The other week I bought donuts for the office. I do this periodically because 1) I like donuts, and 2) if I’m going to risk the indignity of a bit of a tubby tummy, I’m sure as hell going to take everyone else down with me.
Sharing is caring!
No, I really do like donuts, and every so often I like to do nice things for other people, and those two things work remarkably well together. So, donuts for the masses it was. I made a stop at my usual donut place on the way in, and, much to my continued delight, the middle bit of their neon sign was still out.
Childish, I know, but it makes me giggle. Their secondary clientele must be fascinating!
In the daylight it says “Chick’s Donuts”, but that’s not nearly as interesting. In any case, in addition to any sidelines they may or may not be running, they make excellent donuts, and I procured two dozen of their finest assorted and hauled ass to work. Normally, this would be the end of things. The big pink box would go on the table in the break room, people would help themselves, there would be much rejoicing in the kingdom.
Thing is, the box was different this time. Instead of your normal Pepto-Bismol pink, the box was white with pink stripes. I didn’t really think too much about it at first, beyond the obvious “Oh, look, the boxes are different,” but once the box was on display to my co-workers, it became apparent very quickly that the stripes were causing a different reaction the the normal pink box. Everyone was curious. “Where did it come from?” “What’s inside?” It was as if the same donuts I’ve been bringing for ages were suddenly made infinitely more interesting by an unexpected upgrade to a fancy box.
They say we eat with our eyes first, and to a point that makes sense. If it looks appetizing, we’re more likely to want to eat it. If it looks like sludge, not so much. The thing that takes this one step further is the presentation beyond the plate--or perhaps prior to it. A pastry in a clear plastic wrapper is fine, but add a cutesy label and suddenly not only do more people want it, you can charge extra for it and everyone will pay the increase gladly because “It’s just so cute!” Now, there are any number of reasons for my donut shop to have changed boxes. Perhaps they changed suppliers. Perhaps they were going for a new look. Perhaps there is a current global shortage of pink cardboard (though if there is, I’d like to know why the media isn’t covering it--pastry boxes are essential to human survival!). Whatever the reason for the change, it has given them a subtle edge on the competition. Fancy boxes equal fancy product, or at least that’s what the human animal has been conditioned to think. Square and black is manly. Slap some pink on it and round out the edges for the ladies. (Obviously those are sweeping generalizations.) It’s remarkable just how much thought goes into making things look nice so that people will buy them. It’s an art form.
And it works.
When it doesn’t, someone goes back to the drawing board until it does, or the product is abandoned. If you stop to think about things you use every day, things you buy regularly, it’s astounding the level of consideration that companies put into this sort of thing. Let’s take toilet paper as an example. Everyone needs it. Everyone is going to buy it regardless. The only reason it needs any additional decoration on the package beyond a label telling you what’s inside is for purposes of profit.
“Hey, they’ve put knitting grannies in their commercial to tout the softness of their TP. What should we do to one-up that?”
“How about a puppy?”
Somewhere in another office building a few weeks later:
“Hey, now we’ve got knitting grannies and a puppy to compete with! Whatever shall we do?”
“I’ve got it! Cartoon bears!”
::everyone stares at Steve::
“Steve, this is why we don’t invite you places.”
Of course, Steve’s idea wasn’t too far off the mark, because now not only is that particular brand represented by cartoon bears, it’s whole families of them singing songs about the quality of their toilet paper.
Which doesn’t even make sense, because the last time I checked, bears don’t even use toilet paper.
In any case, a tarted-up package is always a good bet if you want to shift a product, and when you buy donuts for the office and they come in a slightly-more-fancy-than-usual box, there aren’t nearly as many donuts left over as there might normally be.
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