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Iced Tea
by Sean Crose Cruising northward up Route 8 on your brand new BMW K 1600 you couldn’t help but smile under your protective helmet. Zipping past one car, then another, you let your imagination run wild. You were cruising towards a bright future, after all, just as you were cruising to the Berkshires on a cutting edge pair of wheels. Iced tea. Your future would be in iced tea – the very iced tea that old woman sold in her diner in West Virginia. The most effective way to sell a beverage, after all, was to have that beverage taste good. And this woman’s beverage didn’t just taste good. It tasted great. She had the product, and now you would come up with a sales plan. Racing up through Torrington, you let your intellect merge with your ambition. If you could get someone to buy the product – if you could do that – your fortune would be made. Who could you go to, however? As you got off the ramp and turned right at the end of Route 8 it occurred to you that it didn’t actually matter. You could go to anyone, after all. You were in the industry. You sold vitamin water to upscale gyms in Brooklyn. If you couldn’t get someone to listen to a ten minute presentation, then who could? Rolling along past Northwest Community, you began to fully understand that the whole thing came down to the presentation. It all, in the end, came down to the plan. What kind of plan, then, would allow an old woman’s iced tea to compete with brands like Arizona, Nestea, Lipton and Fuze? A plan, you figured, that would appeal to contemporary sensibilities. You could push the idea, for instance (you’d actually lie and say it was a sticking point) that the iced tea be made from water which was bottled in both an environmentally and socially friendly manner. You nodded your head at the thought. How the contemporary powers that be loved telling people they were all about the environment and the community, all while running countless factories in environmentally indifferent China. It was bullshit, sure, but it was what it was. Why should you be blamed for playing the game? You didn’t make the unwritten rule which said surface gestures and catch phrases were more important than sincere efforts. You were simply abiding by a rule that the great unseen forces that be had created. As you crossed the border into Massachusetts, you realized the iced tea would need both a terrific name and a marketing gimmick if it were to succeed. In short, you needed to find a way to create consumer awareness, the kind of profound consumer awareness that would lead to eventual customer consideration. You continued racing along, running parallel now with the river on your right. You caught sight of a bald eagle soaring through the sky. Perhaps, you thought, the iced tea could have a kick ass bald eagle as its mascot. Maybe it could be called something like “All American,” or even something more upscale, like “Contemporary American.” By the time you passed the egg farm, however, you realized that American-focused marketing would lead only to American clientele. And you didn’t want that. Nope. You wanted that old lady’s iced tea for sale in China. The more thirsty potential international buyers, the better. Turning left towards Lee, the idea finally came to you. The iced tea would be called “Cruise,” for now you would always associate it with this ride to the Berkshires. Cruise. What a great name. Perhaps the spelling could be changed so it wouldn’t be confused with the aging star; or even, you laughed, with the seventies’ band. Zipping past the shopping center and the McDonald’s just beyond the bridge, you figured you could come up with a marketing gimmick, something the public could engage in, before you even reached the Cranwell. You upped the speed of the K 1600. You wanted the bike to start keeping up with your thoughts. You felt this was your time, after all. You felt this was your moment. Little did you know that drunk kid would literally tear your body to pieces with his ancient Monte. Little did you know that you’d be dead before you reached Lennox. |
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