I Swear It's Like Going to Disneyland

Marketing is much like magic. When done correctly, it blends the lines between reality and fantasy. When done poorly, it invites one to scream out the “secret” to others, dismiss the magician entirely, and proclaim the act a sham. The thing about magic (and marketing) is, sometimes you just want to believe. To steal liberally from what I believe to be the best movie of the past 20 years, The Prestige, “Now you're looking for the secret. But you won’t find it because of course, you're not really looking. You don't really want to work it out. You want to be fooled.” This, my friends, is exactly what the “customer experience” is all about, and harnessing this power, to the fullest extent, and connecting with the correct segment, can be described as nothing short of magic.

12 pages long and containing the unbelievable story of two women who seemingly built an empire out of nothing, and defied conventional logic, the article “True Colors” just didn’t connect with me. My notes while reading the article should have lent themselves to a piece about changing generations, and how a clever, if not inspiring tag line, simply means nothing to those of my generation. How, authenticity, and the spread of social marketing would mean the demise of this style of marketing and advertising, where a character could evoke feelings strong enough to make someone brand loyal, or even a first time customer. How the pioneers were both amazing, and quaint, the right women for the time, but maybe nothing so revolutionary today.

Instead, after reading the articles in “The New Grocery Experience”, I cast my cynicism to the side in favor of the gleeful exuberance that is truly the shopping “experience”, or magic, if you will, of entering a Central Market (or Whole Foods). Let me explain: I am an unabashed food nerd. I make better food than 95% of the restaurants I eat at, regardless of price. My dream job is opening a wine bar where I serve what I want, when I want, playing a random mix of my MP3 player as background music. I LOVE FOOD. It is my one true passion in life.

The “Central Market” experience has become so ingrained in my foodie DNA that anytime I am having a special meal, cooking for a date, or simply feel like treating myself, I swing by a Central Market. The shopping experience in its entirety is worth the extra prices: the abundance of quality, the sheer abundance, the leisurely pace I take; it all even seems to get my creative juices flowing. I have never, in the 30-40 times I have been in a Central Market, left the store with exactly what I planned on getting, with only what was on my list, or sometimes, even in the ballpark of what I had envisioned going in. That is half of the fun. I frequently tell my guests, whoever it is, that the meal sitting before them, and simply the luxury of shopping at Central Market, is inspiring to me. I want to be successful enough at whatever I do, so the special occasion can be a common occurrence. That will be an effective measure of my success, the day I do my basic weekly grocery shopping at a Central Market, is the day I have arrived. This all may sound a bit extreme, to the point of parody, but I assure you, that only goes to speak about how crazy I am about food, and how truly sincere I am when I say Central Market is my favorite store on earth.

Furthermore, this is one place where I willingly give in to the marketing powers that be, rather than fight them. I typically have the strong will to enter a store, whatever store, pick up the one thing that I want that is on special, and leave. I almost pride myself in the ability to sense a “trap”, and avert it. Central Market gets the best of me every time. They frequently sell boneless skinless fresh chicken breasts for $1.99 a pound, or high quality steaks for anywhere between $6-$10 a pound, prices that are comparable with what you may find elsewhere, but unmatched in quality. I wander in, convinced I will pick up what I need (the steak, or the chicken, or the fish, or the bread), and simply leave. This is where the experience of simply being at a Central Market grabs hold, and prevents me from ever leaving with a basket less than $40. I feel “compelled” to meander slowly through the aisles, and pick up a little of this or that, or some crazy vinegar or oil I cannot find anywhere else, and pick up extra meat on sale, simply because it is a scarce resource, and a loaf of some of the most amazing bread anywhere, and some pesto…and on and on and on until the too good to be true sale that brought me in, is only 5-10% of my total bill. Oddly, I never feel cheated, duped, or remorseful of my purchases. Instead, I leave with my hefty bill and small bag of groceries, absolutely giddy to cook them all.

This is certainly what I would consider part of the “magic” category. It defies all odds, all logic, and yet magically repeats itself, over and over again. The entire process, the entire experience, and not merely the finest ingredients imaginable, makes all this magic possible.