It's All Marketing

By: Fiorenzo Arcadi, Toronto Hockey Repair

Hick had begun to write his memoirs. He figured his life was entertaining enough to sell some books and bring in some money. But, there are so many things that need to be done n a day. He needed some instant cash, so he, reluctantly postponed his best seller.

He hadn't felt this low since dropping fivve grand on his latest invention the motorized bar stool. Hick thought it was a perfect seat for people who enjoyed bellying up to the bar, but then have to get off their chairs and move them to get a better look at the big screen TV, or to get a better look at the latest piece of performance art on stage at the local dance emporium. With a motorized bar stool you could move freely.

Hick had lost another grand with Bingoman, when Bingoman noticed that old people moved their legs with greater speed when they are in a hurry.

Bingoman invented "the Old Buzzer" named in honour of his grandfather, who had long ago garnered the nickname "Buzzard". As he advanced in years, the "Old" was added. Everyone knew him as the "Old Buzzard". Even members of his immediate family had to pause to recall his real name.

The Old Buzzer was a device that sounded when one exceeded the walking speed of his grandfather. Bingoman thought with people wanting to live longer, they would need a device such as this to warn them to slow down, thus lessening the chance of a coronary. Sales in the first year totalled one. Bingoman's grandfather was proud of his grandson's venture into the world of capitalism and invention he purchased the only one. Which, when combined with his original investment of $50.00 made his total investment in the company $79.99.

This investment entitled the Old Buzzard, or so he thought, the power to call a meeting of the Board of Directors of this Corporation. The Board of Directors consisted of Bingoman, Hick and the Old Buzzard, based solely on the fact that he was the only one who had spent money to buy one.

Trying to look very corporate Old Buzzard was decked out in his blue pin stripe suit. The problem with the suit was he had purchased it when he weighed 185 pounds. He now tipped the scales at 220, so the suit did not allow for a great deal of movement. Any sudden shift could have a disastrous effect, rending seams and exposing large amounts of flesh to anyone who happened to be nearby.

"My boys, the reason I called this meeting today is to discuss the fact that sales seem to be lagging. I think the problem may be in marketing this product. You have to learn from your mistakes. We have had some great ideas, but you didn't market them properly.

Remember the sheep weights? Now that was a good idea. You put vests on sheep, and fill the pockets with weights. That way, when they were out exercising, they would get a workout, building muscle and towering the amount of fat on their bodies. You boys know how fatty lamb can be? With all of the health food nuts out there we could have made a fortune. Low fat lamb. But how did you market it? As weight liking devices for sheep. You gotta sell the benefits boys. What did you think? There is a sheep equivalent of the Mr. Universe contest?

Them health nuts would be an ideal market for some of your other inventions. Remember the oxygen masks. You were telling me that dogs pant because they need extra oxygen and you could put together a little rig with a small tank on their backs and a mask that fit like a muzzle. Wrong marketing strategy boys. Dogs are supposed to get tired. You should have been marketing it as an instrument to prevent dogs from breathing smog. They walk outside don't they? Aren't the health nuts always carping about air pollution. They will buy any thing that saves their animals. Again boys, bad marketing.

Hey guys, if I am going to continue investing in you, you better listen to me and let me take over the marketing of these things. With my knack for marketing, we should all be rolling in dough by now. I can remember one time, when I..."

Hick rolled his eyes and looked at Bingoman, his eyes pleading "make him stop."

Bingoman started to cough. Old Buzzard ignored him, so he started to cough louder, until his chest was wracked with hacks and snorts. Buzzard could no longer ignore him.

"Get yourself a juice boy. Smack the machine on the side above the C and you won't have to pay tor it."

Bingoman went over to the rusting vending machine and dutifully pounded on the side. There was a rumble inside the machine, followed by the sound of glass shattering as it hit the floor. "Damn", muttered Buzzard. "l still gotta get that fixed"

Bingoman moved back toward the table.

"Don't get me wrong Buzzard, you are a marketing whiz, but I think your talents are better suited to product development. You are an ideas man. We are the sales men. Take that vending machine. I know they wanted 80 cents for every jar of juice you put in there and we would sell it for a buck and make 20 cents. But you pointed out to use that if we bought our own concentrate and mixed it and bottled it ourselves, instead of 20 cents a jar, we could make 90 cents. See this is where we need you as the idea man. We still have this trouble of getting the right sized bottles, so you could adjust the machine so it will take any size bottles, then we don't have to spend the money on right sized ones."

Buzzard stopped and stroked his chin. "Yeah boys, I am an idea man, but I still think I am a better marketer."

"Aka bullshooter" Hick mumbled under his breath.

"Did I ever tell you boys about the newspaper business I was in?"

Both Hick and Bingoman groaned. They had heard this story hundreds of times. It seems that Buzzard was dragging a newspaper box towards the back of his running vehicle when the local constabulary arrived on the scene. When the officers approached, Buzzard stopped and grabbed a paper out of the box.

When questioned as to his activities, Buzzard explained to the gendarmes that the location of the box was not suitable to reading the paper in the sunlight because it was under a shade tree. One cop looked at the other, with a look that said "this oughta be good."

The cop urged Buzzard to continue with his explanation. Buzzard then went into this long diatribe about reading in the dark and how it was bad for the eyes, and this location was much getter, because the sunlight would make it easier to read. The cops were giggling uncontrollably now. "That is one of the finest scientific reasons I have ever heard for moving a newspaper box, howled one of the cops between peals of laughter. Now, what does the fact that it is 11:15 at night and pitch black have to do with this"?

At this point, anytime he was regaling an audience with this tale, Buzzed would assume a pose that would make everybody think that he had already considered this eventuality. Both boys could quote him verbatim, 'Why boys, I was just moving this box tonight, so when everyone comes to this stop to get their paper tomorrow morning they will realize how much better the sunlight is to read by, and paper sales will soar. That's marketing boys.

The boys also knew that the cops had checked Buzzard's vehicle. But since it was the start of his evening rounds, the cops didn't find anything except a strange looking collection of home made tools. The cops let him go.

Buzzard had tilted his head back and his eyes were closed. "Then there was the time boys and this will tell you how good at marketing l am..."

Hick looked at Bingoman and made a drinking motion with his hand. Bingoman nodded. He knew they had at least an hour before Buzzard would realize they were gone. As they closed the door they could hear, Buzzard mentioning Henry Ford.

Hick looked at Bingoman. "Marketing, Smarketing. We're the sales guys. Let's go sell some motorized bar stools."

Bingoman asked "Where".

Hick looked him straight in the eye. "In a bar of course. You buying".

Bingoman said "No. Buzzard is. He gave me another 30 bucks for an Old Buzzer."