Would a drink from any other brand taste as sweet?

Duane did a post on the cost of living a branded life that got me thinking about what my buying habits may say about me. I am guilty of paying $4.10 for a tall (fancy word for small) no fat (made with skim milk) whatever-flavour-of-the-month latte, extra hot (on cold days) at Starbucks. I am not a regular coffee drinker; I consider it a treat, like ice cream. But, like the true Winnipegger I am (where the W stands for wholesale), my pretentiousness is cheap. I have a Starbucks Visa that rewards me with Starbucks funds every month so half the time I don't pay for those overpriced cups of bean juice. I like Starbucks because every time I go in there I still feel like a kid in a toy store with all my allowance in my back pocket. I hope I never start taking the experience for granted.

Soon I will be a homeowner and I know I'll have to cut back on the experience shopping. Yesterday I checked out the coffee at Macs. They had two basic varieties--breakfast blend and Colombian. The Colombian would have been my pick but it was nearly empty. I picked a flavour shot and got to pump it in myself. Then I poured my own milk. It was actually kind of fun making it all myself. The cost? For the same amount of coffee in a tall Starbucks drink I paid only $1.40. I could buy almost three of those compared to one just up the street at Starbucks. So there you go, Macs was cheaper and it did the job of warming my hands and insides just fine.

I find the idea of branding fascinating. I really admire well branded products because I have an understanding of what goes into building a brand. As a consumer though, I don't think I get too hung up on brands. There are a few I like to support in the same way I am loyal to a favourite sports team but that allegiance usually comes from a personal history I have with the company.

Here are a few brands you can label me with:

Chevy
My dad always drove Chevrolets. He sacrificed his Camero for me when they realized it was awkward to put a baby seat in the back. He had an old green truck for a while that I loved. When we watch a race together we cheer for Chevy teams. I know what everyone says about the American car makers but it would feel very wrong if I tried to become a Honda Civic girl.

McDonald's
I don't eat fast food but if I had no other choice I'd pick McDonald's over any of the other places. My Aunt, who I admire a lot, had a long career with McDonald's working her way up from the store level to Community Relations Rep. As a result, I grew up on McDonald's schwag. I went to the beach with a Ronald McDonald towel, I poured Kool-Aid from a McDonald's pitcher and I happily amused myself for hours with all the Lego sets from McDonald's Happy Meals. When I got my first job in advertising working on the McDonald's account I felt like I was part of a legacy. The job also gave me a lot of respect for the business and how it became successful.

MTS
My friends tease me about how my dad swears by the local phone company. They know he works there but I don't think they know how deeply rooted the company is in our history. My dad started working for MTS when he was 17. It was where he met my mom--the shy, blonde, small town girl who delivered inter-office mail and blushed when he whistled at her. He's worked his way up and around the company a bit and managed to survive the cuts and layoffs. When he retires in three years he will have put in 38 years of service. So yes, I am a little biased, but I think MTS is the best choice in Manitoba for phone, Internet and cable services.

The Bay
My Grandma worked at The Bay office in downtown Winnipeg for years. I remember going down and meeting her for lunch at The Paddlewheel Restaurant with my mom and sister. I remember her proudly introducing us all to the other ladies that worked there. I remember all my Christmas presents being wrapped in Bay boxes. Sears and Eaton's were just department stores, The Bay is family.

Google
I'm adding this one for Vince. About two years ago Vince tried to get me to open a Google account and I refused to give in. I don't remember what finally made me make the switch from MSN and Hotmail to Google and Gmail but today I am almost completely Googlified (Google branding actually does not appreciate the use of their name as a verb. Sorry Google). I use Gmail, Gtalk, Google Picasa, Google Reader, (Google) Blogger, Google Maps, and Google Search. Today, my loyalty to Google is reinforced by the fun Google experience I had last summer. I don't know what I'll do if Vince goes back to work at Microsoft.

Uptown Girl

On Sunday I went to the mall. I took the bus down there as a quasi protest to the $1.19 gas prices. I also had a thought about heading downtown to the planetarium after I finished my shopping and quite liked the idea of not having to deal with downtown parking. It was almost easy. Apparently on Sunday the bus I took downtown doesn't go as far as I had hoped so I had to do some walking.

The show was good. I went there wanting to find out what the glittering diamond was that I saw the night before just below the moon. I had a hunch it was Venus and hey, I was right. I forgot how cool the planetarium was. I really enjoyed it. I think it would be a good place for a first date. The only draw back was the small crying children drowning out the presenter guy. If I was two I'd probably be crying too sitting there in the dark with some huge scary machine whirring around in the middle of the room.

Anyway, after I was reacquainted with the night sky and once again confident about locating the north star, big and little dippers and Leo the Lion, I hiked back to the bus stop. On my way I passed by two funky red chairs in the window of an antique shop. I love red. I love red Popsicles, red Lifesavers and red shoes. The shop was closed so I decided I'd go back on my lunch hour on Tuesday to check the chairs out.

Joanna drove me down (in her little red car) on Tuesday afternoon and agreed that the chairs were awesome. At $170 for the pair I figured they were a pretty good deal given the excellent condition and quality. Sold. As we drove back to the office I remarked to Jo how things seemed to line up perfectly that weekend in order for me to find the perfect chairs. The planets were quite literally aligned, because had I not noticed Venus in the sky on Saturday night I would not have gotten the idea in my head to visit the planetarium and then I would not have found myself walking down Main Street that Sunday afternoon. Hit me with a bus, I found my destiny.

Today my mom took Truck to meet me after work so we could go pick the chairs up. She slid over to the passenger side to let me drive at which point I realized that I was going to be commanding my vehicle through rush hour traffic. On a Friday afternoon. Downtown.

Construction. Closed lanes. Pylons hugging the inside lane. One way streets. Lost drivers. Casual pedestrians sauntering across the road. Pothole! Driving in circles trying to find the closest parking lot.

These things stress me out but we made it to the store without anyone getting hurt. I walked up to the lady at the cash desk and announced that I was there to pick up the two red chairs in the front window.

"Do you have anyone here with you to help?" she asked.

"My mom."

"Oh, well... you have to carry them out yourself, I can't help you and they're pretty heavy chairs."

"You don't have a dolly or something?"

"No, I'm sorry. You can come back on Sunday when the owner is here and he can help you."

So I went home chairless. Thank God it's the weekend. Someone get me a drink.

...uptown girl
She's been living in her white bread world
As long as anyone with hot blood can
And now she's looking for a downtown man

--Billy Joel, Uptown Girl

a toy story

It turns out that George did not whack Monkey. He had one of his goons carry out the deed. That goon's name is Animal.

Monkey made a miraculous recovery but something had to be done. Sometime this morning before George got in, Animal was skulking around, jamming up printers, stealing files, and generally just up to no good. You can imagine his surprise though when he found himself cornered by Penguin Pete, Lil' Penguin, Hamburglar, Monkey (who was not dead) and the number 24 Dupont Chevrolet.

Penguin Pete pointed some kind of paperclip weapon at Animal. "Get'im boys," he instructed.

The boys got him alright, but they didn't really know what they were supposed to do with him. After all, they were just filled with fluff. So they put him in the back of Baby Truck and drove.

The gang ended up at a local sports bar. "Buy us drinks!" Monkey commanded Animal (even though Monkey really was not supposed to be drinking, having recently being nearly dead and all). Animal, not quite sure what to make of the gang, obliged and bought a round.

After a few, the gang mingled with some other patrons. Animal, however, continued drinking.

Feeling pretty good and spiffy, Animal decided to try to chat up a girl. Sadly though, the girls were not buying what he was selling.


Whoa, Animal, what did you say to Kelly-Marie?

OUCH!

Feeling dejected but not about to let a good night go to waste, Animal went back to drinking...

...and got pretty darn drunk. Let's hope George doesn't see him like this.

Despite being full of fluff, the gang was also now full of beer. So they did the responsible thing and took a cab home.

And while George and Jill are sworn enemies, it seems that Monkey, Hamburglar, Lil' Penguin and Animal are now the newest Get-Along-Gang. Perhaps there is hope for George and Jill yet. Perhaps.

Update: Animal didn't look so good today

Spy vs Spy at Good Wooden Leg

Joanna and I headed out at lunch today. We were both hoping to catch some sun and warm up a bit. We walked the usual route over the bridge down Osborne. We met up with George, who was coming out of the Shoppers. I gave him a cheerful wave before remembering that we are supposed to be sworn enemies. "Oops! I forgot to snub you!" I giggled.

Earlier in the week George asked me, "which one of us is supposed to be the evil one again?" I explained that after 25 years of being fair and virtuous I was feeling enticed to cross to the dark side, although he clearly is more evil looking than I.

"I'm not very good at this evil thing," I admitted.

"Fine, I'll be the evil one," George said and carried on his way back to the office.

When Joanna and I got back we saw George again at the photocopiers. I can't remember what he said, but I then turned to Joanna and said, "y'know, neither one of us is very good at being a villain. We're just both too nice."

I wish I could eat my sweet sweet words because when I walked into my cube I found a crime scene on my desk.

I'm not really sure what happened, but apparently because last week I hung Abi's pony, George cracked my monkey. I guess some tiny thugs of his came in and whacked the poor little guy over the head with a pencil. Tragic, yes, but I think I might actually have shed a tear if they had done something to the little penguin who sits beside the monkey. Naturally, I took tons of photos for the investigation. I think there may be a finger print too.

Naturally, George has an alibi and apparently Hollene has joined his team. I think she's after my shoe collection.

The evil war is on, but help me readers, how am I going to top this?

Jill is wearing Starbucks and bringing a whole new meaning to "extra hot"

Abi, Joanna and I decided to walk to Starbucks today. I wasn't wearing good walking shoes but Hollene was sweet enough to lend me a pair of hers. I'm not sure what made me think her wedge thong sandals would be more comfortable than my wedge, non toe-severing sandals, but it made perfect sense at the time.

It was drizzling and there was a breeze at our backs as we made our way across the bridge. I ordered a latte with a shot of almond, extra hot because by the time the coffee makes it across the wind tunnel that is known as the Osborne Street Bridge it's usually just the right temperature for ultimate enjoyment.

As we headed back we noticed the breeze was more in the range of gale force winds directly from the north. The wind, in combination with the shoes had me shuffling along like a two-toed sloth. My neon green umbrella, held at a 45 degree angle in front of me, acted as a hazard sign to on coming pedestrians. Just as we passed the Shell station my left ankle rolled and a string of expletives fell out of my mouth. As my faithful readers know, I never curse. My mouth is so clean I could wash my hands in it (I think that metaphor sounded better in my head). I don't know if Abi and Joanna heard me, but they did stop and turn around to see me standing there in the rain with latte splatter on my pants, jacket, dripping off my hand; my umbrella turned inside out; sniffing because my nose is no longer stuffy but running constantly; and, as Abi described it, displaying the saddest look you ever saw on my sweet little face. I think the first thing I did was look at my right hand which was carrying my wallet and realized with grand disappointment that I didn't have my camera with me so I couldn't get someone to take a picture for the blog (if I was going to have to own the experience I at least wanted to share as much of it with the world as possible). Abi ran and grabbed me a stack of napkins from the gas station convenience store (it lived up to its name!). I am now back and mostly dry. I returned Hollene's shoes and left her a sticky note on them to thank her for lending them. There's a lesson to be learned in this somewhere. I think I know what it is.