the new money experience:
box store corporate in-house radio = soft rock classics, hard sell pitch
Timely topic. Just last week I was low on necessities and had to stop in at a K-Mart. Then because the building was heavily air-conditioned, I stalled and browsed. The sparsely filled aisles were serenaded by an in-house commercial from "Hello, K-Mart shoppers, I'm ... "
You know, I was so genuinely appalled .... I forget which one it was ... but it was one of the Brooks and Dunn duo talkin' intimately, down-home and cozy, tellin' about their new record, and invitin' the K-Mart shoppers to head on over to the CD racks to pick up their new album. And all without a trace of a Southern accent.
That really wasn't so much of a surprise, but how these soursops hang together on the same tree surely was. Within moments, the in-house radio began spinning the corporate selected set-list, which included "Bad Case of Lovin' You" (the famous version).
You know, the opening line "whew-ew-oh-oh, hot summer night ... " just sets the the tone and atmosphere in malls of the nowheresville farm belt everywhere, even up heah where the thermometer's stuck at 105 F in the daytime. "Hot buttered death, aisle twenny-five."
And I confess that I wasn't at all surprised to hear that tune, as Brooks and Dunn are known to be maganimous types (only charging their fans $15 to register at their petty yankee peddler site for the privilege of using the message board and buying everything and anything Brooks and Dunn from Brooks and Dunn, from their refrigerator magnets to their plastic beer mugs, even now offering crystal glassware to those fans who've developed more pretentious tastes for them new-fangled pretty drinks).
Those old boys are true to their school and they're likely to help fellas who are by nature just so down with them they don't likely even need to wear mullets in My-Linn, TN.
I know this, because that very "whew-ew-oh-oh, hot summer night ... " tune was pre-selected as a throng song for the local groups who are hired to play and warm up the crowds as the peeps head on in the clear channel venues for those big ol' Brooks and Dunn neon circuses and tailgate parties where you have to pay $4 for half a pint of water.
Yes, indeedy, the in-store music was playing and someone listened and heard. And I tell you, the sight of all those past-prime middle aged women shoppers, those thick waisted redneck ladies with cheap beauty school haircuts ... who even in these parts dress up in the middle of summer, wearing nylons with their white leather open-toe sandles, matching purple tank top and short shorts ensemble ... them rusted steel magnolias ...
... they're the fading-from-local-fame types, the outlines of whose once-upon-a-time racy rose tattoo nestled suggestively on the bust, just above the plunging lacy neckline, the colors and outlines of even their tattoos are becoming fainter as the years roll on .... those are the ones you think'll keep you in your three hundred dollar haircuts, five hundred dollar shoes, and your mansions in the French countryside, all right.
My, that whole experience just screamed "new marketing demographic!" for me.
Shoot, yeah, just get a few thousand of them particular boomers to buy your new record, or your old record, and you 'n yours'll be sitting pretty once again in your shiny new his 'n hers beemers.
Though Lord knows for certain I'm telling the truth to my readers -- those people wouldn't be seen anywhere near a mall like that, or shopping in a box store like that, or even have a single item from a store like that anywhere near them, not if their lives goddamn depended on it -- that's just part of their mystique. But they sure wouldn't mind having their products in WalMarts everywhere, because that's part of their mystique, too. My advice to you-all, read Molly, your phony-baloney Shiite Republican toast 'n crumpets is about to become unbuttered.