Moral of the Story: Marketing to Alcoholics Edition
So LIZ STRAUSS called me on the phone this evening. (Some people call it “name-dropping”. I call it “adding flavor to the story”.) I told her this story. She said I should blog about it.
Oh yeah, and for the doubters? This SO has to do with home business. Just wait.
Um, when LIZ STRAUSS tells you to blog about something, you should probably blog about it. She knows a little bit about this sort of thing. (Blogging, not the story itself. I’m sure when it comes to the story she’ll wash her hands of it and claim she doesn’t even know me.)
Here’s my story.
I like red wine. A lot. Jamie drinks beer, Jack drinks Ribena, I drink red wine. I also live in Ontario which is convenient because we make a lot of wine here. It’s handy. Nowadays, with the whole “the environment is really important and stuff” kick that’s been going on, wine makers have been packaging their products in Tetrapaks. Tetrapaks, more commonly referred to as juice boxes. Big-ass, grown-up, boozy juice boxes. Yeah, baby. I have tasted their Tetrapak offerings and found them worthy.
Anyway, we’re in the liquor store about a week ago and I’m trying to decide what to get. Jamie suggested we get a box of wine.
Let me press hold on this story and let you know that while I will happily drink wine from a Tetrapak, I draw the line at boxes. My mother used to buy white wine in a box and store it on top of the fridge. Warm. I drank it one time. Not cool.
So I look at him like he’s insane and he says it’s the same wine we always buy and it’s way cheaper than buying a bottle, plus we won’t have to go back to the store later. Well, I’m nothing if not cheap and lazy so a box of wine it was.
Flash forward a few days.
We’d drunk the wine. It was lovely. Completely without incident. Jamie’s on his way out and he asks if we need more wine. I don’t know how much is left and because I’m cheap I’m going to check before dropping another forty bucks.
Have you ever tried to see how much wine is left in a box? The thing about boxes is that they’re not clear. They’re pretty opaque, actually. Nobody but Superman can look at a box of wine and know how much is in it. Shaking the box doesn’t work either because the wine is stored in a bag and you can’t hear the swishing.
Let me tell you, I am nothing if not resourceful. There’s no damn way any more wine is entering this apartment until I’m absolutely certain the wine that’s already here is done. I notice that the hole in the top of the box that acts as a handle is about the size of my hand. I figure I’ll just stick my hand in to see how far down the wine went.
You know where this is going.
Jack is in the stroller. Jamie has his coat on. I’m standing in the hallway with my hand wedged in a box of wine and I can’t get it out.
The baby is screaming for milk which I cannot get him because I only have ONE FREAKING HAND. My husband has stopped breathing he’s laughing so hard. And I come to the cold realization that my hand is not coming out of that box.
Have you ever tried to cut your hand out of a box of wine before? They use really thick cardboard, the kind you can’t cut through with regular scissors. You need something serious to cut a box. Like a box cutter. You know, those things the terrorists use to kill people on airplanes? And my hand is so far in the box that the place the blade would hit would be right around the veins in my wrist.
The actual story of getting the box off my hand isn’t very funny so I won’t give you details. (If you ever find yourself in this situation, consider a bread knife. That’s all I’m saying.) Just do me a favor and try to imagine what it feels like knowing you may actually have to take your 14-month-old to the emergency room with you while you have your hand removed from a box of wine. Imagine that for a sec.
“So what the hell are you getting at?” you ask.
There are many morals to this story. Don’t be cheap comes to mind. Don’t be lazy, maybe. Don’t be greedy works too. These are true and wise but they’re not what you’re here for. I’ve chosen a different — and completely topically relevant — moral.
Moral of the Story: Marketing Begins In Product Development.
When you are building your product, think about the stupidest person you’ve ever met. That person is your customer. Think about what problems they could have with your product.
When you are a wine producer, you want your customers to be well aware of how much wine they have on hand at all times. (Please pardon the pun.) You do not want them at home, trying to bust a move on their wife, setting up candles and massage oils and doing whatever people without kids do, just to find out they’re out of wine.
(Since I know you’re wondering, yes, I did just throw the offending box into recycling. Yes, I realized you shouldn’t recycle cardboard and plastic in the same box. And yes, when I separated them and realized there was still wine left in the bag, I drank it.)
If you liked this post, you might also like Moral of the Story: Problogger Edition or Moral of the Story: NeoCitran Edition.
If you like those too, you should subscribe to the feed. You can feel better every day knowing you’re not as dumb as I am.
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[...] unknown wrote an interesting post today onHere’s a quick excerptI like red wine. A lot. Jamie drinks beer, Jack drinks Ribena, I drink red wine. I also live in Ontario which is convenient because we make a lot of wine here. It’s handy. Nowadays, with the whole “the environment is really important … [...]
Naomi,
I think I’m falling in love - how you make me laugh and laugh! You’re like dooce.com, but bubbly. That’s a compliment. :)
Oh my! I laughed until I had tears running down my eyes and had to pause until I could see and read the rest of it! Great writing and great story!!!! Glad you got your hand out… and enjoyed the wine. :)
So damn funny. Nothing puts me in stitches more than self-deprecating humor. Very Dooce of you. I’m addicted.
I’ll share a few stories with you about my client visit today. Your story makes me smile and your moral is a fantastic summary of a long day.
Liz was so right - I’m laughing at my desk right now. That will make me smile all day.
Hey everybody! I’m glad you liked it. Someone may as well revel in my misfortune. (Then again, I guess it wasn’t really misfortune. Misfortune would have been the ER. This was just inconvenience, I guess.)
Whew!
When Liz Strauss tells you to write a blog post, she’s delighted when you do such an outstanding job that you make her laugh all over again!!!
Bravo!!
That’ll teach that darn wine box who’s boss!!
I am SO glad you wrote about this, because I could barely breathe I was laughing so hard when you told me about this.
You’d think that in the case of us wine-drinkers, they’d understand priorities. Which, in this case, is “How much is left because I have an all-nighter ahead of me and my head will explode if I don’t have vino to take the edge off.” Wine meters, people. Wine meters.
@ LIZ STRAUSS - I don’t know why, but in my mind your name is now and always will be capitalized. Thank you for coming. You kick ass.
@ Everyone who is not LIZ STRAUSS - Did you see that? Did you?
@ Susan - Dude, wine meters. That’s fantastic. Please come and work in wine country and MAKE IT WORK.
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Great story. I’ve had my own scrapes with cardboard too. If the wine’s good, it’s like catnip - you can’t help but stick your hand in there.
I stay away from Pledge Wipes containers too. They even TELL you to put your finger in the friggin’ sphincter-top to pull OUT the first lemony-fresh wipe. Bad, bad engineers.
John, I’m gasping! I completely forgot about Pledge. Pledge wipes, Clorox wipes, baby wipes, they’re all vicious! Maybe they do that so when you gash yourself, you’ll have something to clean the wound.
Thanks for stopping by the blog, it’s great to have you!
Welcome to the wine in a box world … we have some good ones in my area as well, and once you get over the packaging I highly recommend them. Never had to deal with my hand getting stuck in there before though, because when I want to know how much is left I usually just PICK UP the box. The lighter it is, the less wine is in the box. Of course, if you drank all of the wine in the box in one sitting then things like volume and weight may be difficult to discern …
@ Margie - Alright, Miss Smarty Pants. It was heavy cardboard. It could have meant anything. I’d never bought a box of wine before. Unlike SOME OF US who apparently are boxed wine connoisseurs…
:) Thanks for coming, hon. Good to see you.
Oh, you know I think you are great! :) And you made a great point about how marketing begins with product development, especially when it comes to things we consume. People like to see what they are eating, or in this case drinking, and it is hard to do that through a cardboard box. The natural tendency of our minds is to wonder what is in there, you know? It’s like that great quote from Carol Tucker Foreman about irradiated meat: “Irradiated poop won’t make you sick, but it is still poop.” If you want to stay in the food and beverage business, you have to make people comfortable consuming what you are offering … or you have to make them comfortable with that opaque box. Sounds like the wine business is trying to do both at once, which may be one of the reasons why it is taking the wine in a box trend a bit longer to catch on.
I can totally understand how that would happen. I too just converted to wine in a box (I even made a Squidoo Lens about it) and no matter how empty the box felt, wine just kept coming out of it–like a magic never ending wine tap. It was pretty cool.
I’m enjoying your blog– Sonia Simone from Remarkable Communication sent me your way.
[...] Moral of the Story: Marketing to Alcoholics Edition [...]
[...] Moral of the Story: Marketing to Alcoholics Edition [...]
This is freaking hilarious!
Haha….. that’s funny. Naomi, you write effortlessly, and that makes it so easy to read your posts and enjoy them!
So then, no wonder you’re Liz Strauss’ friend. I’m a great fan of Liz, too! I spend more time at her blog(s) than any other, including my own :)
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