Brick and Mortar

In B-school (that’s Business School for those of you who aren’t familiar with the term) we learned about how the Internet has changed forever the business landscape (although there are some folks out there who still think the Internet is just a fad), and also about the concept of “virtual stores” as an alternative to the traditional “Brick and Mortar” stores. 

The concept that was discussed was that for certain goods like electronics, music, videos, etc the consumer doesn’t need to touch, feel, try on the product, and therefore there is little need for actual physical retail locations.  Eliminating the retail outlet saves on all sorts of overhead (rent, utilities, certain liability insurance, etc)

Although it is true that the Internet has killed off a number of traditional “brick and mortar” businesses, I have been pondering other low-cost, non-traditional approaches to selling products other than the internet.  Here are some interesting other alternative, low-tech approaches I have seen lately:

Instead of leasing space for a pet store, why not squat in the Walmart parking lot to sell pets?

Or, another option is to partner with an existing business and sell your products in an existing location.  This is particularly beneficial if you have complementary products or services, like putting a car-rental agency counter in an airport, putting a bank in a grocery store, or selling tobacco products in an insurance agency:

Or possibly heavy machinery and furniture:

Anyone need a good diesel engine to go with your loveseat?

Another low-overhead approach is to build a micro-building (essentially a kiosk):

This approach isn’t just for sno-cones:

Another low overhead approach is to use only the most essential equipment materials. Who needs refrigeration, for example?

River cat fillets anyone?

 

I have a dream… of a double-wide

In the USA we have a type of pre-fabricated housing that is factory-built on wheels and shipped to it’s semi-permanent location via tractor-trailer.  We call them “trailers,” and a neighborhood that is composed of many of these “trailers”  is called a trailer park.  Sometimes these trailers are built in two halves that are each just wide enough to transport on the normal road system and then at their destination they are put back together.  We call these “double-wides.”

When my father was 15 or so, his father retired from 20+ years in the US Navy; his last assignment was in Washington State, on the northwestern tip of the continental US, but he announced to the family, much to their chagrin that they were moving to the Atlanta area where a friend was holding a job as a security guard with Lockheed.  My grandfather thought it was the perfect plan; the rest of the family wanted to stay in the Pacific Northwest.

My grandfather packed up his wife, three kids and the family’s possessions (which included a small motorboat on a boat trailer – see the picture below) and headed south-east for the 2,700 mile (4,200 km) trip to Marietta, Georgia.  On the trip down, Smitty (as he was known to his friends and grandchildren) talked incessantly about how he was going to buy a trailer across the street from the VFW where he would spend his free time drinking himself into oblivion.  In case you don’t know what a VFW is, it is a place where you can buy and consume large quantities of cheap beer.  Smitty wanted to be within walking distance to avoid DUIs.

 

My sister, Christine, my cousin Clair, Smitty and Me circa 1974

My father, being the oldest son begged Smitty to reconsider, and to buy a normal house that would be big enough for two adults, two teenagers and a pre-teen son.  The other family members joined in trying to convince Smitty to buy a real house.  For some reason Smitty had it in his head that he wanted to live in a double-wide.  Apparently years earlier he had stayed in Marietta in an old Navy buddy’s mobile home when he was in town for training.

In the end reason won out, and my grandfather’s dream was put on hold for a few years.  Instead of the trailer, Smitty bought a house and a service station (which happened to be in front of a bar where Smitty would retire to after my dad got home from school and could relieve him of his duties pumping gas, changing tires and other sundry repairs to customers’ vehicles).  That same service station is where my dad learned how to work on cars, a skill that he taught me and a skill that I plan on passing down to my children.

Several years later, however, Smitty and my grandmother, Barbara (more on her later) split up and my grandfather met Val.  (More on Val in another blog.)  Smitty and Val packed up, and moved to Panama City (also known colloquially as “the Redneck Riviera”) where he finally achieved his dream:  Smitty bought a single-wide trailer that was no more than 60 yards from a VFW post.  He found himself a job working as a security guard and parked the little motorboat in back of the trailer beside the above-ground propane tank.  After a couple years, he talked my dad into coming down and helping him add on to the trailer to make it more like a double-wide.

Val and Smitty

We would visit as children in the summer.  The little trailer was right down the road from one of the nicest beaches in the world.  When we would visit, my grandfather Smitty and Val were gracious hosts, but since my grandfather had given up drinking the two of them smoked incessantly.  In fact they had such a phobia of not having a lit cigarette available at any given moment they would light up another cigarette before the last one had finished.  At times there were four or more cigarettes going at one time.  It was like they had installed a permanent fog machine from a nightclub in their front room.  If I ever end up with lung cancer, I will know why.

Eventually Smitty went to that great trailer-park in the sky (kidney failure), and Val followed a few years later.

Strangely enough, my father had different dreams.  He now lives in a gorgeous brick house that is roughly nine times the size of Smitty’s “quaint” trailer.  It sits on an acre lot in a lovely neighborhood with a pool and tennis club.

At least I know that my family has a history of achieving their dreams.

Silly Bandz – The New Global Currency

My kids are going crazy over a new fad that is sweeping our area called Silly Bandz.  Basically, they are rubber bands that have been shaped into all sorts of fun shapes,  including animals, vehicles, letters and other things.  For some reason my kids are nuts for them, and although they are incredibly cheap, they fight over them like they were gold.

Strangely enough, kids at elementary school trade for them, and use them as a currency of sorts.  My son Nigel, who is seven is a shrewd trader.  I call him Johnny Lingo because he can seem to have the ability to trade anyone out of their favorite silly bands.

 Nigel (Right) proudly displays his collection of silly bands

Nigel basically determines which bands a particular kid really wants, and then makes the kid pay two or three to one to get it.  He then goes to other kids and convinces them that they really, really want one that he has.  His collection continues to grow.

Unfortunately, his older brother, Ernie (in the photo above, on the left side) has fallen prey to Nigel’s predatory tactics, and has seen his collection dwindle lately.  Then, Nigel leveraging Ernie’s emotional response to having fewer silly bandz than him talks Ernie into trading away other toys like a $23 transformer.

I am convinced that Nigel has a future in Investment Banking.  I hope he remembers me when he is a billionaire.

Jesus Sells… Birdhouses?

Just as a follow up to my blog from February 27th, I saw this scene on the side of the road and had to take a photo.

I had never seen anything like it!  Although the workmanship was certainly adequate, I couldn’t help but be perplexed at the idea of making birdhouses out of crosses. 

I know that Jesus Christ was the son of a carpenter, but I doubt that he or his father, Joseph ever built a birdhouse.

I couldn’t help but think about the song by They Might Be Giants entitled, Birdhouse in Your Soul. 

“You’ll never know what you’ll find when you open up your letterbox tomorrow.  A little bird never told me anything I wanted to know, she’s my best friend, she’s a sparrow… make a little birdhouse in my soul”

World’s biggest RV park

I live in Southern Mississippi, where the culture has been impacted by hurricane Katrina to such an extent that even six years after the event I still hear people refer to it daily.  People in this area often use Katrina as a common temporal reference point in order to give context when describing an event: it either happened “Before Katrina” or “After Katrina.”

Because of the fact that I was not living in the area when Katrina hit the Gulf Coast, I have a lot of catching up to do when it comes to the local lexicon and common understanding.  There are simply words and phrases I don’t immediately understand because I wasn’t here during the event.

One of those terms that I learned recently was FEMA trailer.  A FEMA trailer is a RV-like trailer that was (and in some cases still is) used as temporary housing until people rebuild their homes lost during the storm.  Some interesting shots of folks living in these trailers can be found here.

There is little doubt that these trailers sure helped a lot of folks when they needed it, but have you ever wondered where they ended up?  I didn’t either, until I saw this on a trip this weekend:

I took this photo at the intersection of MS 589 and I-59 in Purvis, Mississippi.  To put this in perspective, check out this satellite view I found (I added a red box to show the area photographed above:

Now to really blow your mind, I stitched together a series of satellite photos I found using MapQuest.   I have highlighted the area you can see in the photo above with a red box:

It boggles the mind!  Now, consider this:  These trailers cost the US government about $18,600 each!  In all, FMEA bought 145,000 trailers at a total price tag of about $2.7B.

Although $18K per trailer may sound reasonable, it pales in comparison to the $200K+ per trailer that the government paid in some temporary trailer parks to set them up and maintain them.

Don’t worry, though: the Government did recover some of the costs as they auctioned some off for roughly 40% of the amount paid for them when new.  Before you run out and buy one, though, there are some concerns about excessive formaldehyde levels.  If you have already bought yours, don’t worry, FEMA will buy it back from you.

Jesus Sells

First of all, let me start out by saying that my intention is not to offend anyone, nor is it to sacrilege that which is sacred to many.  I also think it prudent to mention that I am a devout Christian, and I am an ardent believer in the Divinity of Jesus the Christ.  Don’t worry: This is not a religious blog by any means.

I do have to point out that, just like sex, Jesus sells.  I have seen a rash of marketing ploys lately that are incredulously and blatantly sacrilegious.  I saw the following sign as I was traveling through the thriving metropolis of Lake Providence, Louisiana

I am pretty sure that Jesus never sat down with his disciples to a nice hot cup of joe, especially since the first evidence of coffee as a beverage dates back to only the 17th century.  That and the fact that Jesus was never a college student, or struggling musician.

You certainly have seen the WWJD bracelets.  Here Jesus is leveraged in order to market seven dollar bracelets that cost pennies to make.  Jesus is very marketable, especially compared to other religions’ deities:  I have yet to see any WWMD (What Would Muhammad Do) or WWBD (What Would Buddah Do), or WWSD (What Would Shiva Do) bracelets.  There is, however a WWOD (What Would Obama Do) bracelet.  I am going to run out and buy that bad boy in a microsecond.

Sometimes Jesus is used to market, well, Christianity, especially the evangelical kind.  No one can argue the prowess of the Jim Bakker PTL Cash Machine, which in its prime made over $100M per year!

Probably my personal favorite example of how Jesus (or rather the name) has been used to raise cash is a fellow who used to work for me in Indianapolis by the name of Jesus Turk.  Jesus (pronounced like deity, not the Hispanic pronunciation Hey-Suese) was, in addition to being a factory worker by day, a rap artist who went under the nom de plum of Black Jesus.  He had a brief moment of fame when the video of his single, What That Thang Smell Like (Warning, video is NSFW (not safe for work).  Actually, it is not safe for any situation for that matter), appeared on BET: Un-cut.  True to his stage name, he is both black, and named Jesus.

Another favorite example of Jesus being used to market a particular congregation is in Monroe, Ohio, easily visible from from I-75.  This example is affectionately known as the “touchdown Jesus.”  Apparently it is also known as the YMCA Jesus.

Sometimes, apparently, Jesus alone is not enough to sell certain versions of Christianity.  Take for example a church down the road that I have heard referred to as “Six Flags Over Jesus”  Here is a photo:

This photo doesn’t really do it justice.  It has, in addition to a huge amphitheater, a gym with two regulation basketball courts, a weight room, a cardio room, a craft room and a tenth of a mile long walking track.  I forgot to mention the Children’s theater.  Although most artists’ renderings of Jesus show him to be athletic, I doubt if he went to a gym to do cardio.

If Big isn’t your thing, you can try the Biker’s Church.  Apparently the Harley Davidson Marketing Machine is also being used by some to market Jesus.  I guess if it brings some closer to Christ, more power to them.

I guess that the thing that concerns me, is that rarely in our culture do you see examples of Jesus being used to sell what I believe to be the real message of Jesus: Love.  Selflessness.  Service.  Forgiveness.  Charity.

 

Finding your ride

Have you ever had trouble finding your car in a crowded parking lot?  Ever almost get into the wrong car by mistake?  It is a common problem here in America.  The incredibly viable Super-Walmart business model has spawned a new generation of super-parking lots.  That, coupled with Americans’ propensity to buy SUV’s that are offered in only about four colors makes it easy to walk to the wrong car sometimes.

This isn’t just a new phenomenon, either.  Years ago, my grandmother once borrowed my uncle’s Chevy and headed to the grocery store.  When she came out, she put the groceries in the trunk and drove off.  About half way home she thought to herself, “my, my, Reed’s car sure seems clean, and I can’t smell cigarettes, either.”  When she got home, my Uncle Reed noticed that it wasn’t his car at all, and drove it back to the grocery store where he swapped it for his car.  Back then GM only made about 20 variations on their keys, and my Grandmother just got lucky.  True story.

I guess the car confusion issue is why many car owners are resorting to decals that uniquely distinguish their car from others’ cars.  Here is a shot of a car I saw on my way to work.  I am certain that you have seen these on the roads of America, too.

In this example, the driver needs a second reminder which car is hers so she also has her name on a vanity plate.

How cute to have a pictorial reminder of your family on the back window of your car!  Maybe these decals are intended to also remind forgetful parents of all the members of their family so they won’t leave any kids behind at a rest stop (more of a problem when you have six kids like Shonda). That happened once to my mom in Utah when she was a little kid.  She had an older sister and three younger siblings and my grandparents drove off and left her there.  About 100 miles later they realized that they had left my mom just like poor little Macaulay Culkin in Home Alone.  Yes, same grandmother, and Uncle Reed was just a toddler back then.

This whole stick figure family decal thing has me wondering if celebrity families do the same thing.  Do Jon & Kate Plus Eight have ten little figures on the back of their Econoline van?  If so, has Kate scratched Jon off so there is now only nine figures?  Does Rosie O’Donnell’s car have a large lady, a thin lady and four confused-looking kids?

I wonder if there is a niche market for custom-made decals for celebrities.  If so, I think I would be a great designer.  Check out the one I designed for Elin and Tiger Woods:

 

I also made one for the TomKat family as well.  For those of you who don’t read People magazine while you are in the checkout line in Walmart, TomKat is the nickname of the Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes family.  Tom Cruise, a devout L. Ron Hubbard fan, is 16 years the senior of Katie.  Tom, like his mentor Hubbard, is on his third marriage to progressively younger women.  Like Hubbard, Tom also left children without their dad along the way.  Good luck, Katie!  Hope he sticks around when you hit 40!

 

If you aren’t really into the family thing, you have other decal options.  There is the ever-popular Calvin peeing on a Ford symbol.  In fact, you can get Calvin peeing on just about anything you want, except, perhaps in a urinal.

IF you are into hunting and you are a Saints Fan, you could get one of these:

 

If you are serious about making your ride recognizably yours and you have a testosterone deficiency, you should try Bumper Nuts.  Very classy.  Nothing says sophistication like Bumper Nuts. 

In any case, I have found an even better way to find my car in a crowded lot even though it is decal-free.  I hit the panic button on my key fob and follow the sound of the honking.  Sometimes I will do that even if I can see my car, especially if kids are walking by it.