The Next Big Thing
We’re sitting next to the window of the coffee shop. Being unemployed, we’re throwing preposterous restaurant business ploys at each other, while being interrupted regularly by the sights and sounds of the parade passing at the intersection.
Memorial Day is a big event in this small town. For lack of a large bounty of participants and floats there are always numerous fire trucks from neighboring towns and proud farmers riding their freshly polished tractors.
Let’s focus on building a cult following, she said; her remark punctuated by a fire engine roar. It’s worked for so many food establishments. We just need our own strategy. The guy at my marketing class last week called it a kink — we need our own kink. Branding. Find, or better yet create, our own tribe. New friends, new enemies, new trends! Keep ’em engaged. If bubble tea emporiums can flourish . . .
Only slightly a non sequitur, I replied, pointing at the pageantry outside, but people are always willing to follow, and do it with pomp. Men, women — it’s a thing humans do. So many sticks, so many carrots. You gotta sell them on feeling that they made the choice. Sprinkle some glory on people and their puppet strings are all yours to manipulate. Works in every country in every language. Speaking of which, let’s plan ahead for international franchises.
A group of older men, jackets ablaze with colorful medals, walk along with a large banner. Behind them the perennial favorite for the kids watching, a Sherman tank growls along down the street. The rest of the year it just sits motionless by the VFW hall; although a couple years ago it had a vacation halfway across the country for a battle reenactment.
She’s on a roll: Burger joints flourished with the grass-fed kink. Salad joints — the create-your-own gimmick. Get the consumer to feel like a participant. Heck — one chain’s success kink is they grill their burger buns!
You’re right, I reply, but I’d also suggest a twist of oddball concept on top, like a grind of pepper. The economy and entrepreneur climate is way beyond the Coke/Pepsi thing these days and if we’re planning to be vastly overpaid CEOs someday . . .
Exactly — she fires back excitedly — fried fruits can be a sensation! Hell, we could even have the very first drive-through Fried Fruitarium in the Midwest . . . Oh look here’s the end of the parade.
A group of young men in military attire, march by us, stiffly. And then, just ahead of the approaching marching band, short skirted majorettes twirling batons. A man in uniform, I note — the ladies do like that! Our male employee’s uniform must have just a hint of a regimental style, and let’s remember the short skirts for our female employees.
As the high school band arrived, led by students carrying flags, playing “Amazing Grace” with most notes intact, we realized that once again we had failed to create a viable business plan. But the cold brew coffee and chia seed muffins were great.
Sixteen of thirty-one stories — 500 words or less, written one-per-day during December 2018 — The Hunt & Peck Parables PatchWord Quilt™©.
© AleXander Hirka 2019. All Rights Reserved.