Before I saw this sign, I had started an essay about business branding versus business personality, about how it seems that the first can be soul-less and opportunistic, and the second full of human presence and quirkiness. I also was thinking about how individuals can apply their power of the purse, that unstoppable outflow, to their own satisfaction and the common good.
I was cooking away on the draft. After all, examples are not difficult to find. Buying books on Amazon is one thing. Phoning a bookshop which receives your obscure inquiry with enthusiasm, says they’ll think about it and call you back, and then does, is another.
It’s partly a matter of size, I posited, although I might contend that there are very large businesses that have personality, and very small ones that seem imitatively branded.
We’ve always had things to consider as we spend our consumer dollars: quality, convenience, cost. It is also good in this day and age to consider the collective power of consumer behaviour, and the personality of the places we patronize, and our possible paths. For example: actively avoiding businesses that apparently no longer believe in diversity, equity, or inclusion. Abjuring those who flat knuckle under to government pressure, and those who preemptively yield. Paying a modicum of attention to the behavior of billionaires, and remembering that sometimes our dollars, downstream, flow into their pockets. Do we want that?
I was cooking away on all that, and then I saw this sign, and the essay took a turn.
Allow me to present an example of a business with personality (category medium to large). My new favorite grocery store was unfamiliar to me until I went in with a list of things to find, and saw this aisle sign. It turned this essay toward the attractiveness and scarcity of wit in retail settings, and how a smile delivered can lighten the day. Even better when a young staffer sees you photographing the sign, and asks, straight-faced, if you are interested in the million dollars.
And then suggests that I check the signage for Aisle 15. “Ice Cream. Frozen Novelties. Cheese. Yogurt. Butter. Lost Spouse.”
I found no spouse, but I looped back to Aisle 4 and gave it a good look. The million dollars must be out of stock. I assure you, I intend to check again.
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Photo by the author.
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