Costumed crusaders

I have relied on my college education to help me acquire gainful employment, work out complex statistical analysis (ha! Just kidding, Professor Robert E. Lee--not joking--tried his best but couldn't turn me into a statistical wizard) and provide a good foundation for understanding the world around me. Until recently, I thought my alma mater had given me everything I needed to go out into the world and whip up a mean editorial or communications packet, but I'm beginning to think she failed me.

As a marketing minor, I thought I understood the marketing beast (even though the Husband did complete most of my senior level marketing class homework...let's be honest...I had no business being in that class) but, lately, I've been confounded by what seems to be a widely accepted form of guerrilla marketing here in the Kansas City metro area: the costumed street stander.

It all started last summer. I was driving home when out of the corner of my eye, I saw what appeared to be a woman wearing a banana costume on the side of the street. Thinking this was surely a mirage, I did a slow drive-by and confirmed that it definitely was a woman in a banana costume. She was holding a sign advertising the crazy (hence "bananas") low prices of the produce at a nearby grocery store. Naturally, my first thought was: how many bananas must this grocery store sell in order to pay for a banana costume? I called the Husband immediately to report the banana lady sighting and, of course, he didn't believe me. I recall his exact words were: "There's no way there's a woman in a banana costume on the street. You are making that up." I knew I needed proof so I pulled a U-turn and did another drive-by with my camera poised and ready to capture a photo of the banana lady and capture it I did.


A few weeks later, I was cruising around when I spotted a person in a chicken costume holding a sign that read: Eat at Granny's. I have no idea if Granny's specializes in chicken or if the chicken costume was the only one on sale at Marvin's Costume Emporium. From the menacing glare of the chicken, I took his message to be more of a command than a suggestion. For the record: I did not eat at Granny's nor do I have any plans to eat at Granny's, menacing chicken or not.


Apparently this trend of employing costumed characters to inform Kansas' traveling public of low prices on bananas, generally irritated non-water fowl and other products is not limited to the summer months. As tax season rolls around, Liberty Tax has taken to employing individuals to don crudely constructed Statue of Liberty regalia and wave to passersby on the street. No matter the temperatures, these Lady Liberty impersonators brave the elements to let us know that Liberty Tax wants so badly to do our taxes that they will pay people minimum wage to dress in drag on street corners. My particular favorite Liberty Tax guy wears a black ski mask and doesn't wave. I'm actually not sure if he was hired by Liberty Tax or if he just held up the liquor store on the corner and is trying to blend in with his surroundings to evade police. Curious.

And just this week I was making my way to the dentist's office when I pulled up to a stop light and witnessed a Liberty Tax guy engaged in some seriously risque dancing on the street corner. Had the Infant been in the car with me I would have shielded his eyes to protect his innocence. There was so much gyrating and pelvic thrusting, I had to wonder if he could be cited for conduct unbecoming of a national symbol. Had I not known about Liberty Tax's costumed campaign, I may have thought this individual was selling something far more salacious than tax services.

I cannot help but wonder how many people are persuaded to buy bananas, eat at Granny's or get their taxes done by Liberty Tax because one of these costumed crusaders convinced them to do so. And this practice seems so pervasive that I wonder if maybe I missed something in a Marketing 101 class that predicted that all marketing roads would lead to costume marketing. I may as well have gotten an online degree.

The hills of Kansas

I know what you're thinking: "Hills? Kansas? Such things do not exist." But I am here to tell you that they do exist and we just so happen to live on one. Typically, this wouldn't be worth mentioning; however, when a wintry mix descends upon us from the heavens, as it is today, the trials and tribulations of having an incredibly steep driveway make themselves all too present.

So, this morning started off like few mornings have since the arrival of the Infant. The little nugget didn't wake up until 8:45am. Don't think I didn't take advantage of that and catch a few extra zzz's myself because I did. Now, I did go in and check on him several times to make sure he was still breathing (he was) but even sleeping in until 7:45 beat the heck out of the 5:45 wakings earlier this week but that is neither here nor there.

Upon waking this fine Friday morning, I see that it is indeed snowing but the ground is barely covered. I needed to run a few quick errands and had a limited amount of time before the Infant would need to return to his sleeping quarters. From my window the roads (meaning the one in front of my house) looked fine so I packed up the Infant and headed out into the snowy abyss.

My first indication that this might not have been a good idea was when I pulled out of the driveway and proceeded to slide down the rest of the hill in my vehicle, blowing through the stop sign at the bottom of the hill. We didn't T-bone anyone so I breathed a sigh of relief. I parred down the errand list and didn't stray far from home. Upon returning to the homestead it had snowed at least four inches and the driveway was covered. I proceeded to do what I always do when the driveway is covered in snow: rev the engine and try to make it into the garage without hitting the house. I got about half-way to the top before spinning the tires and slowing sliding backwards. Undeterred, I backed up, trying to get a running start, and attempted the climb again...and again...and again. At one point, I was completely sideways. I felt a little like Austin Powers when he tries to turn that people-mover cart around in a small hallway. Finally, after a good half dozen attempts I decided that maybe shoveling a path for each tire would be all I needed to get up the hill. I parked on the street, left the Infant in the car listening to NPR and began to shovel. In record time, I had semi-cleared two tire paths and topped them off with salt. I returned to the car and backed up the hill to get enough speed to make it up the driveway and wouldn't you know it: I made it half-way up and slid all the way back down AGAIN. All that physical exertion for nothing! Finally, I threw in the towel, parked on the street, unpacked the Infant and trudged up the driveway on foot.

I knew what had to be done: total driveway snow removal. I put the Infant down for a nap and bundled up in my winter woolies. It was me v. the driveway and this time, I would emerge victorious even if it resulted in another herniated disc. It was still snowing but if I didn't take charge now, it would just get worse. I started at the top and shoveled and shoveled and shoveled. After all of my shoveling, this is what my driveway looked like:

CRIPPES!

I realize that tomorrow I might not be able to lift my arms and will probably hobble around holding my back like a little old lady. I blame all of these shenanigans on the hills of Kansas.