Advertising Agency Brisbane, Interactive Media, Creative Marketing and Digital Branding - BCM: Two Cents

You might say your work blog is not the ideal place to confess to something you’ve kept to yourself for too long. However, after finally owning up to my wife and kids last week, I thought I’d keep going while I was on a roll.

It concerns something I did at a boating store in Brookvale (Sydney) last year. I was there looking for a life jacket and a pair of padded sailing pants to protect myself from the hard fiberglass gunwale of my Laser sailing dinghy.

Anyway, after choosing a life jacket I was in the change room trying on a couple of sizes of sailing pants when I noticed a tag on the floor. It was barely branded, had some tiny type that read, ‘Child’s wetsuit pants’ and a barcode with a price, $24.95.

Now the garment I was trying on was a little more expensive. It had purpose-built zipper pockets, key and belt clips, removable padding sections and was made with heavy duty nylon which allowed for sliding your weight up and down a racing Laser’s gunwale.

At this moment, two things went through my mind. The first was disbelief at how the amount for the life jacket and the pants was going to total well over $200. The other was how young and disinterested the girl and the guy at the cash registers had looked.

I approached the check-out and coolly put my purchases on the counter. The bored girl scanned them through, put them in a bag and starting taking my money as the guy looked on, seemingly into space.

‘Excuse me!!’ My heart jumped. The guy’s eyes had suddenly pulled focus on the electronic read-out. In a moment he was right there (much bigger than I remembered) looking accusingly from read-out to barcode to tag to me all at once. A couple of people who were now queued up started looking at me accusingly too.

I remember clearly that it was the actual second I nervously uttered, ‘Is there a problem?’ that he made his mind up that the tag must have been attached fraudulently. I made a small move to the door which he followed like a shadow. ‘Sorry sir’ he said, ‘I’m afraid we’ll have to speak to the manager about this.’

As he ushered me (with evidence in hand) towards an office at the back of the store I started to realise I was not in a good situation. Are they going to call the police? Will I be charged and if so, what with? Do I use my one call to organise legal help or tell my wife I can’t meet her at Coles at 11.30am?

He knocked lightly and we entered the manager’s office only to find it empty. ‘Have a seat sir.’ His look was firm and threatening and I sat down obediently. ‘The manager and I will be back in a sec.’ He closed the door heavily behind him and I heard his footsteps slowly disappear as he hurried away.

I was distraught. My once tiny decision, in the smallest of moments had suddenly escalated into something really serious. I looked around me like a schoolboy in a principal’s office. There was the manager’s desk, all neat and tidy, and who by the look of his kid graduating in a framed photograph, must have been in his forties at least.

I sensed a draught and looking up, noticed a window, only about 30 cms high, running the length of the wall just below the ceiling. I also noticed it was slightly open.

I quickly looked away then just as quickly back again. No, no, no. What I’d done was ridiculous enough surely? I ran to the door and put my ear to it. I could hear a couple of distant footsteps then nothing. I began to realise I could actually get out of this. Get my day back to where it started. Maybe even meet my wife at Coles at 11.30am.

With a huge backward lunge I dragged the manager’s desk over to the windowed wall. It groaned loud as a monster as it vibrated across the lino floor. There was no turning back now. Next I flung the chair I’d sat in onto the desk. As I jumped to join it, I heard the first thump of running footsteps accompanied by wild and aggressive yelling.

Now on the chair, I pulled the window open wide enough for me to squeeze through and as I dragged myself upwards and into the sunlight, I heard them burst into the room behind me.

There I was, three-quarters of my way into a blissfully sunny carpark (for a split second smiling stupidly at a stunned woman and her toddler next to their open boot) when my progress was suddenly reversed as a person (and then another) took hold of my leg.

As much as I could try bracing against the window frame with shaking arms, I was losing the battle. They were just pulling my leg too hard.

Pulling my leg. Just like I’m pulling yours.

While I have to apologise for telling stories, this is one story that for me has great resonance. Ever since my mother somehow kept a straight face telling a version of it to me when I was a teenager.

I just wanted to use it to demonstrate that whether a story is true or not is irrelevant. Only that any story which engages and involves people will always be remembered.

That’s something we would do well not to forget when we’re putting communications of any sort together. As soon as a story resonates with people, it becomes true, and effective.

Geoff Reid is BCM Sydney’s Creative Director

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