If you were a box of cereal, what would your name be?
Are you impervious as a grape nut, or are you a colorful spray of chalky sweet marshmallows? Bland as a Cheerio, that lifesaver tossed to our heart in its Dead Sea of cholesterol, or do you embody the pretentious simplicity of Life? Perhaps you’re complicated, a homey type who wants to pretend they run a bed & breakfast, where every morning is a Blueberry Morning. If you like every day to be Halloween, you can choose the chocolaty immortal regence of Count Chocula.
Would you have a spokesperson, or be the spokesperson? Imagine your logo.
Your name streaking across the box like a comet. Chet! The cereal. The product.
You were born a product. Your parental committee gave you your brand name before you ever had a chance to be all you could be. They chose it carefully, perhaps in honor of a favorite aunt or a deceased Olympic medalist, a pantone color or a mechanical part of a firearm, and you’ve used it to market yourself aggressively on playgrounds ever since.
So before you get condescending, realize you’ve already done this job. Every day of your life. Now pick up that phone and tell that old bag how much she needs to buy this, even if it means cat food for dinner, or you’ll be selling boxes of Chet: the Bland as Kix Cereal, just like everybody else! on monster dot com, you cute little sanctimonious prole, you.
© 2011 Thomas Pluck