On branding

One of the earliest lessons in branding I learned in life took place inside a dark movie theatre, during the 1960s in Lebanon where I grew up.

As teenagers, going to the movies was the ultimate pleasure in life; something we aspired weekly to, and planned meticulously for, while struggling to get our parents' permission - which was always tied to school performance. The few theatres that were available in our small city had divided the market, if you can call it that, into common-sense-specialisation - one theatre featured Arabic movies (mostly Egyptian), another one featured Indian movies, and a third one featured foreign films.

The last one was our favourite, naturally!

Back then, seating was gently monitored by the employee at the ticket stand. If he was strict, he would separate the boys from the girls - which we hated, of course! If he was not strict, he would let you sit anywhere. Lest your imagination run wild here, girls went to the movies always in groups, mostly accompanied by an older family member for extra protection.

All cross-gender attempts at communication in those days consisted mainly of feeble, dismal and short-lived glances followed by giggles and guilt feelings. Period! As boys, we also went in groups. A kid going alone to the movies would have seemed more of a weird psychopath, who risked being pulled aside and questioned about his motives.

So, my first lesson in branding happened when it was time for the soda salesman to walk around inside the dark theatre, armed with a powerful light in his hand, usually after the film had started. Never mind that the salesman would be ruining your concentration on the film or blocking your view totally; life was much simpler then and everyone was more tolerant, I guess.

In a shrill, ear-piercing, high-pitched tone, perfected by years of mindless repetition, the salesman would carry his wooden box, filled to the hilt with glass bottles that were always rattling and clicking, and he would cry out loudly: "Pepsi, Cola, Seven Up!" That was it!

Three magical words were enough to whet our appetites, whip our imagination and transfer us to the same world of the actors on the screen, who were always pouring themselves a drink.

So we would call the salesman to order our drink.

"Hey, Abu Issam, I'll have one". One of us would yell at the top of his voice as we needed to compete with the running sound of the movie.

Quickly, Abu Issam, the travelling salesman (inside the theatre, that is) would switch the light towards the yeller, and then your face would be in the spotlight; literally and figuratively. For few fleeting seconds, everyone in the theatre would know that you ordered a drink, that you have enough pennies to pay for it, that you are somehow in charge of your own destiny!

"What you want?" Abu Issam would yell rudely, as he didn't need to be nice to anyone.

"Pepsi"

"I don't have Pepsi"

"Cola"

"I don't have Cola"

"Seven Up"

"I don't have Seven Up"

"What do you have, then?"

"Jalloul!" That was a local drink light years inferior to any of the brands he advertised.

Inevitably, we would order a bottle of "Jalloul".

Of course we never dared ask Abu Issam why he would claim stuff that he didn't have.

I think now I have a better understanding of Abu Issam's branding philosophy; he cornered the market (the movie theatre), had an inferior product (Jalloul) and adjusted his advertising message accordingly!

In short, Abu Issam was acting no differently than Bill Gates today - who corners a slightly bigger market (the world), has a similarly inferior product (Windows) and is free to say anything he wants!

As for the "Jalloul" brand, it died many years ago. Which means I can attempt describing it to you as plainly as possible: it tasted like dinosaurs' vomit left to dry in the sun for a week!

That's all we had back then - and we liked it!

Ahmad Zahzah is a media consultant based in the UAE.