Agent Squirrel – ‘The Supremacy of Marketing’ Part 5Squirrel was ensconced on a Virgin Atlantic VS055 flight to Washington DC – seat 14A and was in a reflective mood. After all he had been on what appeared a simple mission to sort out some lingerie in Aberdeen and on first sight of the client he thought that the project would raise some interest from a marketing perspective – little had he banked on the kidnap attempt and the complete lack of marketing skills of the supposed client.
So these thoughts were now occupying his mind – that, and the delicate fingers of the in-flight beauty therapist who was gently massaging his head and neck. This, thought Squirrel, was a rather curious activity at thirty seven thousand feet – he was after all sat ‘up the front’ of the bus…where you turn left when you get on rather than trudging right and heading towards the back. Here the legroom was as good as a Bentley, the carpet bijou and the catering bistro arriving with the plastic wrap removed first…so why did he need the pamper? It would have perhaps been better to offer it to the parents of the unsettled child in row 41 – they looked like they could do with it (along with everyone in row 40,41 and 42) as Squirrel had observed on his half hourly stroll to the rear of the plane.
Adding value to the offering really only works if the value being added has meaning and from what Squirrel saw, the parents in row 41 would not only welcome that kind of offering but would probably tell everyone they met for a week about it…which in commercial terms thought Squirrel was a pretty good deal all round…whilst those passengers with expense accounts could extract social value by declining the service - a perfect pamper paradox thought Squirrel.
But there again – an attractive masseuse is an attractive masseuse and her fingers were certainly doing the walking…and Squirrel thought walking in rather a seductive way as if they were shod in 6inch heels and walking towards a large bed.
Washington DC, as every school child outside of the US apparently knows stands for District of Columbia – as opposed to Washington State, which was a coincidence as Preacher, Squirrels unofficial handler, had text him whilst he was waiting at Heathrow with instructions for a meet with old friends from Washington State.
‘You feel tense’ said the fingers in one of those New England type accents (like Mary-Ellen from the Walton’s),
‘I like camping equipment as much as the next person’ replied Squirrel eyes closed and slumping forward in his seat, head somewhere near his knees in order to allow the masseuse access to his shoulders, ‘ but I don’t really have the kind of fetish that needs to reach out and touch temporary nylon shelters – to be honest!’,
Fingers stopped – obviously computing the answer and working through the difference between spoken and written English – after a few seconds the fingers resumed normal service but soon made an excuse for the completion of the treatment. By the time Squirrel had surfaced from the 2 inch axminster Fingers had struck up a relationship with an attractive business lady in 12D – he was aware of furtive glances being thrown in his direction.
Eight and a half hours is just about bearable on a plane thought Squirrel, although he was now regretting being smart with Fingers the masseuse. The nice thing about Virgin was that the in-flight entertainment was about as good as it got; films, radio, albums even web browsing and telephone…although the cost of a call equated to the price he had paid for his first car and he wondered would he have to ask for the permission of the owner before he made ‘that call’?
Even so, the brilliance of the bearded brand was not to be overlooked. What you had here was a captive audience. It reminded Squirrel of a bar in Hamburg where you could pay to be held captive…but that was another story. No, here, above the rain - passengers paid to spend eight and a half hours as your customers or more precisely potential customers of all the other things your brand was associated with. Placing this concept into another context Squirrel mused why other businesses had not explored the idea. Just think about any waiting room in any office…what did they say about the business and what were they saying about the complimentary services on offer?
The Boeing B747 would deliver the flying Squirrel to Dulles airport in time for a late dinner. Washington people ate early in Squirrel’s experience and such Capitol Hill grazing habits extended to breakfast. He was due to meet his contacts at 6.00am at Corner Bakery on Pennsylvania Avenue – somewhat of an institution in ‘Capitol City’ –, which is the local’s nickname for the nation’s capitol city…conservative lot in Washington!
Squirrel’s mind wandered to Wales: Cardiff City of Culture, Swansea City by the Sea, Newport New City, Wrexham nuff said!
Longish flights were rather peaceful by and large for Squirrel. As a disavowed agent of the Institute most daily routines were conducted with caution, however once everyone was safely strapped into their seats and he had taken a casual but calculating look at the fellow occupants a flight was rather pleasant, if anyone wanted to cause harm to the Business Intelligence Agent in seat 14A they would wait until the arrivals hall at least – that would be the protocol – especially as weapons were a bit tricky to get onto a plane these days! He sat pondering these thoughts ballpoint pen in hand knowing full well that he was actually sat in row 13 but aircraft manufacturers were obviously more superstitious that Stevie Wonder who was, well: very.
The ‘Avon calling’ tone announced that the flight would soon begin its descent into Dulles – Squirrel had always thought that the Avon cosmetics firm had been slow to make more of this in-flight audio advertising…but there again who was going to open the door and let the Avon lady in?
He stretched, again regretting his glib comments to the soft and sensual digits of Fingers the masseuse. The plane landed with the customary bump and the customary comedian somewhere attempting to applaud – but such events were always accompanied by a collective sigh of relief throughout the cabin…he wondered if they had a round of applause on the flight deck? He was in no hurry to exit…the welcome from the guardians of homeland security would make sure that early exit from the cabin was no guarantee of an early exit from the terminal building.
But there was an upside to slowing down…Squirrel’s exit velocity matched that of the masseuse and the occupant of 12D…12D looked Squirrel straight in the eye: ‘you
goin
g do
wn town – wanna share a cab with Mary and me?’ she said, eyes darting towards Fingers and dart
ing back to Squirr
el while simultaneously extending a hand to be shaken, ‘I’m Ellen, and you are?’
‘Squirrel’ said Squirrel, ‘just Squirrel’.
30 minutes later the cleaning operative assigned to ‘premium’ found the empty
shell of a hazelnut on the arm of 14A…and later made a call. Hunting season for squirrels had just begun.
To be continued…
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