Billboard Magazine's No. 1 single in 1954 was Kitty Kallen's "Little Things Mean a Lot."
Billboard's No. 1 single in 1956 was Elvis Presley's "Heartbreak Hotel."
Do you see how the world changed?
Elvis didn't start it. But he was the one who nailed it down. If it had just been Bill Haley and Chuck Berry, the culture wouldn't have shifted the way it did. Rock and roll needed a king, and Elvis Presley was it.
It is 30 years today since Elvis died. I remember where I was. Can't say that about Kitty Kallen (if she is no longer with us) or Bill Haley, or even Buddy Holly. Just JFK and Elvis Presley.
Elvis fulfilled his destiny in four years. He did it with beauty, sex and records. He was exactly the right figure, in exactly the right place, at exactly the right time. Just like Jesus. The two men grew in public consciousness because of unique sets of qualities. Take away one of those qualities, and maybe history doesn’t happen. When Elvis walked out of Memphis, practitioners of a new movement circled around him. They knew they were only rock and roll disciples, and they gave thanks for this beautiful white boy who could sing like a black man, and for his outrageous name, Elvis Presley, and the way he walked, and held himself, and twitched. He had everything that Uncle John need, oh boy. They could see this individual was going to make news, and for them it was good news.
Elvis made news with his looks, sex appeal and attitude. The music was great, but that's not what drove a huge wedge between kids and their parents, particularly girls. Parents were dead serious when they wondered if their daughters should be listening to this guy alone in cars. The teen rebel mood, that had started showing up in "The Wild One," "Blackboard Jungle," and "Rebel Without a Cause," fed smoothly into the Elvis image and created the kind of 24/7 demand for Elvis that gave rock and roll its first real air time. In the 1950s, only the really big cities had more than one or two radio stations, and car radios were clogged with stuff that let only a few minutes of rock and roll get through on any given day.
Elvis blew the clog plumb out, and by 1957, new stations were going on the air to play nothing but Elvis and the disciples, and a new religion was certified. There were no more Elvises, and only one band of Beatles, so the worship has mostly been about music and attitude. With Elvis, on his death anniversaries, it is never just about the music. "Jailhouse Rock" is a great song, and so many of them – "Any Way You Want Me," "Tryin' to Get to You," "Baby Let's Play House" – still make your hair stand on end. But "Jailhouse Rock" is not complete without the movie, this god who looks like Elvis Presley, black hair and lips and skinny, singing "Jailhouse Rock" and doing that dead-man-walk thing with his legs and hips. You have to see that, to know what happened.
I didn't pay much attention to Elvis after 1958. He got drafted, served his Army time, came back and for the rest of his life made bad movies and ordinary music. He didn't seem to care. His work was done.
August 16, 2007
August 15, 2007
Playing with a Brand
I appreciate Jim McDonald's comment on the branding Abilene blog. He is another member of the Abilene High Class of 1961, which is a damn good group if I do say so. Re the fee for the Abilene brand, I waxed sentimental about those roots and briefly considered setting my fee for "Abilene, Texas Style" at $61,616.161, tacking on the tenth of a cent, like the gas pumps do, to preserve symmetry.
Then I decided against it. My fee is firm, $99.999.99, one cent less than the six figures the Abilene authorities are willing to pay North Star Destinations. That name – "North Star Destinations" – pops to mind another possibility for the Abilene brand: "Lone Star Destination."
But you can't do as much with that as Abilene, Texas Style. I know the deal is done, but it is still fun to play with the thing. Right, Jim? On a yellow pad, I doodled everything that Abilene, Texas Style, might go with, in setting Abilene apart in the global mind. "Global" includes Tye, Potosi, Hawley, Hamby, View. Global starts at the front door, and it's as vital that "Abilene, Texas Style" means something in Colorado City, as much as it does in London, Paris or Dallas. Imagine, Dallasites driving 180 miles for a weekend of "Abilene, Texas Style." Getting somebody to leave Dallas for a weekend wouldn't take all that much, actually, but that is a direction for another day.
So I doodled.
Thanksgiving, Abilene, Texas Style
Christmas Parade, Abilene, Texas Style
Fourth of July, Abilene, Texas Style
Easter Sunday, Abilene, Texas Style
Education, Abilene, Texas Style
Football Classic, Abilene, Texas Style
Football playoffs, Abilene, Texas Style
Golf tournament, Abilene, Texas Style
Resort Ranch, Abilene, Texas Style
Weekend getaway, Abilene, Texas Style
Corporate retreat, Abilene, Texas Style
Regional Outlet Mall, Abilene, Texas Style
Filming location, Abilene, Texas Style
Senior prom weekend, Abilene, Texas Style
Culture, Arts, Music, Abilene, Texas Style
Broadway road show, Abilene, Texas Style
Concerts, Abilene, Texas Style
Championship rodeo, Abilene, Texas Style
Livestock shows, Abilene, Texas Style
Horse shows, Abilene, Texas Style
Any kind of celebration, Abilene Texas Style
Barbecue championship, Abilene, Texas Style
Premier, Abilene, Texas Style
Partnership, Abilene, Texas Style
Conventions, Abilene, Texas Style
Drag racing, Abilene, Texas Style
NASCAR, Abilene, Texas Style
Worship, Abilene, Texas Style
Leadership, Abilene, Texas Style
Patriotism, Abilene, Texas Style
Business, Abilene, Texas Style
Caring telethon, Abilene, Texas Style
Historical pageant, Abilene, Texas Style
Lifestyle, Abilene, Texas Style
Pride, Abilene, Texas Style
So there are things that can be done with it. The project has not turned out to be a burning issue in the Abilene community. I've counted about a dozen letters to the editor, some in favor, some opposed, most against paying anybody money to create a brand. There were a couple of offers to do it for free, or have a community contest with the winner receiving not much more than recognition and a few free dinners at participating restaurants.
I would never do it for free, and no one else should, either. I do think six figures to Tennessee thinkers is excessive, but there is a thing called "perceived value," which gives a thing value in the public mind simply by placing a value on it. Branding Abilene is something that will have to have value, both in the public mind and the participators' mind. This is a business deal. A brand should prove to be worth millions of dollars to whatever the branded thing is. To a city like Abilene, it should be worth hundreds of millions of dollars, to spend on infrastructure, schools, culture, subsidized water rates, rehabbing the near north side before the wind blows it over. Whoever conceives it, the brand should not be cheap, and it certainly should not be provided free by its creator.
While we're on the subject, does Abilene have a city flag?
Then I decided against it. My fee is firm, $99.999.99, one cent less than the six figures the Abilene authorities are willing to pay North Star Destinations. That name – "North Star Destinations" – pops to mind another possibility for the Abilene brand: "Lone Star Destination."
But you can't do as much with that as Abilene, Texas Style. I know the deal is done, but it is still fun to play with the thing. Right, Jim? On a yellow pad, I doodled everything that Abilene, Texas Style, might go with, in setting Abilene apart in the global mind. "Global" includes Tye, Potosi, Hawley, Hamby, View. Global starts at the front door, and it's as vital that "Abilene, Texas Style" means something in Colorado City, as much as it does in London, Paris or Dallas. Imagine, Dallasites driving 180 miles for a weekend of "Abilene, Texas Style." Getting somebody to leave Dallas for a weekend wouldn't take all that much, actually, but that is a direction for another day.
So I doodled.
Thanksgiving, Abilene, Texas Style
Christmas Parade, Abilene, Texas Style
Fourth of July, Abilene, Texas Style
Easter Sunday, Abilene, Texas Style
Education, Abilene, Texas Style
Football Classic, Abilene, Texas Style
Football playoffs, Abilene, Texas Style
Golf tournament, Abilene, Texas Style
Resort Ranch, Abilene, Texas Style
Weekend getaway, Abilene, Texas Style
Corporate retreat, Abilene, Texas Style
Regional Outlet Mall, Abilene, Texas Style
Filming location, Abilene, Texas Style
Senior prom weekend, Abilene, Texas Style
Culture, Arts, Music, Abilene, Texas Style
Broadway road show, Abilene, Texas Style
Concerts, Abilene, Texas Style
Championship rodeo, Abilene, Texas Style
Livestock shows, Abilene, Texas Style
Horse shows, Abilene, Texas Style
Any kind of celebration, Abilene Texas Style
Barbecue championship, Abilene, Texas Style
Premier, Abilene, Texas Style
Partnership, Abilene, Texas Style
Conventions, Abilene, Texas Style
Drag racing, Abilene, Texas Style
NASCAR, Abilene, Texas Style
Worship, Abilene, Texas Style
Leadership, Abilene, Texas Style
Patriotism, Abilene, Texas Style
Business, Abilene, Texas Style
Caring telethon, Abilene, Texas Style
Historical pageant, Abilene, Texas Style
Lifestyle, Abilene, Texas Style
Pride, Abilene, Texas Style
So there are things that can be done with it. The project has not turned out to be a burning issue in the Abilene community. I've counted about a dozen letters to the editor, some in favor, some opposed, most against paying anybody money to create a brand. There were a couple of offers to do it for free, or have a community contest with the winner receiving not much more than recognition and a few free dinners at participating restaurants.
I would never do it for free, and no one else should, either. I do think six figures to Tennessee thinkers is excessive, but there is a thing called "perceived value," which gives a thing value in the public mind simply by placing a value on it. Branding Abilene is something that will have to have value, both in the public mind and the participators' mind. This is a business deal. A brand should prove to be worth millions of dollars to whatever the branded thing is. To a city like Abilene, it should be worth hundreds of millions of dollars, to spend on infrastructure, schools, culture, subsidized water rates, rehabbing the near north side before the wind blows it over. Whoever conceives it, the brand should not be cheap, and it certainly should not be provided free by its creator.
While we're on the subject, does Abilene have a city flag?
July 26, 2007
Branding Abilene
My hometown, Abilene, Texas, is seeking to establish itself as a brand, to better compete in the state, national, and international, public consciousness for the purpose of attracting business and tourism.
A "brand" is a term, phrase, or symbol that makes a product or service unique in the public consciousness ("Xerox," "Google," "Neiman's"). Examples of branded cities are "The Big Apple," "Big D," "Cowtown," "Vegas," and "L.A." Abilene had an original brand, "The Key City of West Texas," and now uses "The Friendly Frontier." The first has lost its scope, and the second is restrictive and not memorable. "Abilene" is the title of a famous song by George Hamilton IV, which rightly describes Abilene as pretty, but lies about the women there, and does not provide any other information.
Abilene has proven attributes which include location, seasons, civic pride and motivation, existing attractions and opportunities, opportunities for new attractions, savvy, future-oriented municipal, civic and business management, a favorable business climate, affordable cost of living, three universities and affiliations with others, strong traditions but no longer straitlaced, and friendliness. Abilene could truthfully adopt a slogan: "America's Home Town." "Abilene" is also a very pretty name, and easy to remember.
I first learned of Abilene's branding effort a few weeks ago in a story in The Abilene Reporter-News. The Abilene Branding Partnership, a consortium of five civic entities, had called for a Statement of Qualifications from eleven marketing companies. I have affection for Abilene, and the Reporter-News, where I began my career in 1969, and I have interest in how people feel about Abilene. In researching a book about Abilene history three years ago, I had the opportunity to spend time there on several visits, and talk to Abilenians about the city's present strengths and weaknesses.
Thus was I compelled to stick my branding iron into the fire. Three or four days later, I had an idea. On June 21, I emailed the Abilene Branding Partnership, but I was too late. The June 14 deadline for submitting my Statement of Qualifications had passed. I asked to be considered if the search was reopened, and that was agreed to.
Today, the Reporter-News reported that the consortium has agreed to hire North Star Destination Strategies, out of Nashville, Tennessee, to develop an Abilene brand, and a branding strategy, for a fee in the "low six figures," should the money be found locally and a contract signed. North Star was one of only three companies, out of the 11, responding to Abilene's call for a Statement of Qualifications.
So the deal is done, and I can publish my idea. For a penny less than six figures - $99,999.99 – I would have provided Abilene all rights to a three-word brand that co-opts an already global brand, has four distinct applications and one state of mind, and it offers multiple branding strategies.
It would identify a place.
It would identify a thing.
It would identify an event.
It would identify a product.
It would identify a state of mind.
It would be:
"Abilene, Texas Style"
Published, copyrighted, protected. North Star will earn its money and give Abilene something that works better than "Friendly Frontier." And I will always know "Abilene, Texas Style" was good, and came in in an x-way tie for second place.
A "brand" is a term, phrase, or symbol that makes a product or service unique in the public consciousness ("Xerox," "Google," "Neiman's"). Examples of branded cities are "The Big Apple," "Big D," "Cowtown," "Vegas," and "L.A." Abilene had an original brand, "The Key City of West Texas," and now uses "The Friendly Frontier." The first has lost its scope, and the second is restrictive and not memorable. "Abilene" is the title of a famous song by George Hamilton IV, which rightly describes Abilene as pretty, but lies about the women there, and does not provide any other information.
Abilene has proven attributes which include location, seasons, civic pride and motivation, existing attractions and opportunities, opportunities for new attractions, savvy, future-oriented municipal, civic and business management, a favorable business climate, affordable cost of living, three universities and affiliations with others, strong traditions but no longer straitlaced, and friendliness. Abilene could truthfully adopt a slogan: "America's Home Town." "Abilene" is also a very pretty name, and easy to remember.
I first learned of Abilene's branding effort a few weeks ago in a story in The Abilene Reporter-News. The Abilene Branding Partnership, a consortium of five civic entities, had called for a Statement of Qualifications from eleven marketing companies. I have affection for Abilene, and the Reporter-News, where I began my career in 1969, and I have interest in how people feel about Abilene. In researching a book about Abilene history three years ago, I had the opportunity to spend time there on several visits, and talk to Abilenians about the city's present strengths and weaknesses.
Thus was I compelled to stick my branding iron into the fire. Three or four days later, I had an idea. On June 21, I emailed the Abilene Branding Partnership, but I was too late. The June 14 deadline for submitting my Statement of Qualifications had passed. I asked to be considered if the search was reopened, and that was agreed to.
Today, the Reporter-News reported that the consortium has agreed to hire North Star Destination Strategies, out of Nashville, Tennessee, to develop an Abilene brand, and a branding strategy, for a fee in the "low six figures," should the money be found locally and a contract signed. North Star was one of only three companies, out of the 11, responding to Abilene's call for a Statement of Qualifications.
So the deal is done, and I can publish my idea. For a penny less than six figures - $99,999.99 – I would have provided Abilene all rights to a three-word brand that co-opts an already global brand, has four distinct applications and one state of mind, and it offers multiple branding strategies.
It would identify a place.
It would identify a thing.
It would identify an event.
It would identify a product.
It would identify a state of mind.
It would be:
"Abilene, Texas Style"
Published, copyrighted, protected. North Star will earn its money and give Abilene something that works better than "Friendly Frontier." And I will always know "Abilene, Texas Style" was good, and came in in an x-way tie for second place.
July 17, 2007
Mary Galbraith
This morning, I learned that Mary Galbraith had died.
I could not believe it. I'm having a hard time with it, not so much emotionally as physically. Mary Galbraith, dead? Not possible. People die. Physical laws do not. If Mary Galbraith has gone, she has only disappeared from this dimension with a force that has sucked all the air out of the space she occupied.
It is that vacuum that I'm trying to understand. I know about death. Mother, father, icons, wife. I have mourned, grieved, raged, denied, processed, adjusted. This thing with Mary is new. She was fantastic, and those she knew will miss her always, but that's not it. Mary was energy posing as matter. Energy cannot be lost. Or so the physicists say. How, then, to explain the space I'm in, where Mary Galbraith was? What has changed in the universe this morning?
I didn't know the complete Mary. Her third child, Dub, and I became close friends in the seventh grade and remained so until his death in 1981 in a highway accident. I knew Mary from the time I spent at her house, 1349 Ross Ave., which was considerable. If statistics had been kept, I believe that 1349 would rank first in visitor traffic, from 1952 through 1961, in Abilene, and maybe in Texas. Mary and Gubo had six kids, Gail, Gervis, Dub, Julia, Kandy and Deborah. Gail was head cheerleader and Gervis was a quarterback in the middle 1950s, when Abilene High was on a long, historic winning streak, and all those kids loved to come to Mary's house, and Dub and our gang then took their place. I wonder how many people feel as I do, a member of an extended family before which Mary placed thousands of bologna and mayonnaise sandwiches and gallons of iced tea. Her funeral is Saturday in Abilene, at the cavernous First Baptist Church, and I wonder how many of those kids will be there.
Mary was brunette and loved music, loved to dance. She could be a little rambunctious. She would much rather have been one of us. She had the lowest threshold of pleasure of anyone I have known. She did not have an off switch. When it was just them, her kids might have had to beg her for some peace and quiet, and not the other way around.
She never lost a friendship, that I know of. Ours continued after Dub's death, and my move to Southern California. I would see her for iced tea and a visit and nine million laughs when I was in Abilene. Pictures would never do Mary justice; you need the sound track, too. In the 1960s, I said to her, "You look like Suzanne Pleshette." She laughed and took to it, and after that, whenever I called or saw her, I said, "Hi, Suzanne." I loved having a unique connection with her.
After Gubo died, she moved into a house on Blair Street, filled it up with photos and memorabilia and lived alone. I don't imagine she was hard-up for company. If it were up to me, I would position an easel in the church on Saturday, and on it place an enlarged photo of Mary, just her face, looking up at the moment more kids are trooping into her kitchen at 1349 Ross. In that face, you will see the energy that this morning has created a strange void, like air displaced behind lightning. No doubt Mary's life was a bolt of lightning. Now that it's over, the air is closing behind her, just taking awhile following along behind a bolt that was decades long. It will reach us as thunder. When I hear it, I will know that it is her, and what a unique experience I've had. If thunder rumbles through First Baptist on Saturday, it's the sound track.
I could not believe it. I'm having a hard time with it, not so much emotionally as physically. Mary Galbraith, dead? Not possible. People die. Physical laws do not. If Mary Galbraith has gone, she has only disappeared from this dimension with a force that has sucked all the air out of the space she occupied.
It is that vacuum that I'm trying to understand. I know about death. Mother, father, icons, wife. I have mourned, grieved, raged, denied, processed, adjusted. This thing with Mary is new. She was fantastic, and those she knew will miss her always, but that's not it. Mary was energy posing as matter. Energy cannot be lost. Or so the physicists say. How, then, to explain the space I'm in, where Mary Galbraith was? What has changed in the universe this morning?
I didn't know the complete Mary. Her third child, Dub, and I became close friends in the seventh grade and remained so until his death in 1981 in a highway accident. I knew Mary from the time I spent at her house, 1349 Ross Ave., which was considerable. If statistics had been kept, I believe that 1349 would rank first in visitor traffic, from 1952 through 1961, in Abilene, and maybe in Texas. Mary and Gubo had six kids, Gail, Gervis, Dub, Julia, Kandy and Deborah. Gail was head cheerleader and Gervis was a quarterback in the middle 1950s, when Abilene High was on a long, historic winning streak, and all those kids loved to come to Mary's house, and Dub and our gang then took their place. I wonder how many people feel as I do, a member of an extended family before which Mary placed thousands of bologna and mayonnaise sandwiches and gallons of iced tea. Her funeral is Saturday in Abilene, at the cavernous First Baptist Church, and I wonder how many of those kids will be there.
Mary was brunette and loved music, loved to dance. She could be a little rambunctious. She would much rather have been one of us. She had the lowest threshold of pleasure of anyone I have known. She did not have an off switch. When it was just them, her kids might have had to beg her for some peace and quiet, and not the other way around.
She never lost a friendship, that I know of. Ours continued after Dub's death, and my move to Southern California. I would see her for iced tea and a visit and nine million laughs when I was in Abilene. Pictures would never do Mary justice; you need the sound track, too. In the 1960s, I said to her, "You look like Suzanne Pleshette." She laughed and took to it, and after that, whenever I called or saw her, I said, "Hi, Suzanne." I loved having a unique connection with her.
After Gubo died, she moved into a house on Blair Street, filled it up with photos and memorabilia and lived alone. I don't imagine she was hard-up for company. If it were up to me, I would position an easel in the church on Saturday, and on it place an enlarged photo of Mary, just her face, looking up at the moment more kids are trooping into her kitchen at 1349 Ross. In that face, you will see the energy that this morning has created a strange void, like air displaced behind lightning. No doubt Mary's life was a bolt of lightning. Now that it's over, the air is closing behind her, just taking awhile following along behind a bolt that was decades long. It will reach us as thunder. When I hear it, I will know that it is her, and what a unique experience I've had. If thunder rumbles through First Baptist on Saturday, it's the sound track.
July 11, 2007
Dodging bullets
It is 12:37 p.m. I am second in line at the pickup window behind a low-end white Toyota Tercel with dirty windows. The driver is smallish. I can only see the top half of her head over the headrest. I take her to be a woman, by the length of her hair, which is being blown by a strong current. The Tercel's windows are down, but the afternoon is relatively calm. She must have the fan blowers turned up to high. Her head is in constant movement, swiveling. I see no evidence of anyone else in the car. Somehow all this bodes ill for the speed with which I will be getting home with my Jumbo Jack.
She extends her arm out the window. In her hand is a card. Maybe a coupon. Damn. Coupons mean trouble. Now she reaches the card toward a device mounted on the lip of the pickup window. She turns the card sideways and vertical. I see a magnetic strip. Oh, my God. It's a credit card!
I am screwed. A smallish, nervous woman in a dirty low-end Toyota with the fans turned up high is trying to use a credit card at a fast-food pickup window. I didn't even know they took plastic! I have never before seen a card reader at the window!
Into my mind flashes recent television commercials for Visa cards. One is at a nursery, one is at – yes – a fast-food place! As long as everyone is using a Visa card, business flows smoothly, like clockwork, and everyone is happy. Then some Luddite cretin pays with cash. The clockwork slows and stops. Plants wither in the delay. Lettuce rots in the fast-food tacos. In the line, happiness turns to dismay. The offender notices and appears to feel small. At last he is gone and the happy Visa choreography returns.
Ahead of me, the woman, leaning halfway out the Tercel window, slides the card. She waits, turns the card over so the name side is toward me, slides it again. I wince, and look away. Look down. In my left hand are three dollar bills, exactly what my order will cost, unless inflation kicks in before this woman can get her food paid for. Into my mind flashes the small world wars I routinely witness between credit card users and card readers at the supermarket checkout.
Now the woman has handed the card to a hand appearing in the pickup window. I sigh and wonder if I should just cut off the engine. Then, just as quickly, the card is handed back. Out the window is handed what appears to be a cup of coffee and a small sack. I feel I have dodged a bullet. After the usual moments of receiving, positioning, and preparation to drive, the Tercel pulls forward, and I am grateful.
Of course the bullet I have dodged comes in many calibers. Sometimes, and you don't see this much anymore, it is a woman watching her groceries go through, purse slung over her shoulder, and not until the total is rung does she take the purse off her shoulder, look in it for her checkbook, and start to write the check. Sometimes it is a wad of coupons, being scanned one at a time, and every third one needing some kind of extra attention. Sometimes it is someone's diabolical need to pay in cash, down to the penny, counting out thirty-eight cents one coin at a time.
I am always glad when it is over, and I am smiling at the clerk's apologetic shrug. And behind the Toyota, seeing the difference between real life and the Visa commercial, was really funny. And therein, of course, is the truth, or the fib, about the commercial. It isn't a Visa card that creates a clockwork life. It would have to be clockwork people. I really don't think I would want to live that way. I wouldn't want to be a bullet to dodge, either. It's an interesting tension.
She extends her arm out the window. In her hand is a card. Maybe a coupon. Damn. Coupons mean trouble. Now she reaches the card toward a device mounted on the lip of the pickup window. She turns the card sideways and vertical. I see a magnetic strip. Oh, my God. It's a credit card!
I am screwed. A smallish, nervous woman in a dirty low-end Toyota with the fans turned up high is trying to use a credit card at a fast-food pickup window. I didn't even know they took plastic! I have never before seen a card reader at the window!
Into my mind flashes recent television commercials for Visa cards. One is at a nursery, one is at – yes – a fast-food place! As long as everyone is using a Visa card, business flows smoothly, like clockwork, and everyone is happy. Then some Luddite cretin pays with cash. The clockwork slows and stops. Plants wither in the delay. Lettuce rots in the fast-food tacos. In the line, happiness turns to dismay. The offender notices and appears to feel small. At last he is gone and the happy Visa choreography returns.
Ahead of me, the woman, leaning halfway out the Tercel window, slides the card. She waits, turns the card over so the name side is toward me, slides it again. I wince, and look away. Look down. In my left hand are three dollar bills, exactly what my order will cost, unless inflation kicks in before this woman can get her food paid for. Into my mind flashes the small world wars I routinely witness between credit card users and card readers at the supermarket checkout.
Now the woman has handed the card to a hand appearing in the pickup window. I sigh and wonder if I should just cut off the engine. Then, just as quickly, the card is handed back. Out the window is handed what appears to be a cup of coffee and a small sack. I feel I have dodged a bullet. After the usual moments of receiving, positioning, and preparation to drive, the Tercel pulls forward, and I am grateful.
Of course the bullet I have dodged comes in many calibers. Sometimes, and you don't see this much anymore, it is a woman watching her groceries go through, purse slung over her shoulder, and not until the total is rung does she take the purse off her shoulder, look in it for her checkbook, and start to write the check. Sometimes it is a wad of coupons, being scanned one at a time, and every third one needing some kind of extra attention. Sometimes it is someone's diabolical need to pay in cash, down to the penny, counting out thirty-eight cents one coin at a time.
I am always glad when it is over, and I am smiling at the clerk's apologetic shrug. And behind the Toyota, seeing the difference between real life and the Visa commercial, was really funny. And therein, of course, is the truth, or the fib, about the commercial. It isn't a Visa card that creates a clockwork life. It would have to be clockwork people. I really don't think I would want to live that way. I wouldn't want to be a bullet to dodge, either. It's an interesting tension.
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