"You're feeling relaxed...more relaxed than
you've ever felt before...Listen to my voice. Just my voice and relax. The next
time you eat chocolate it will taste like raw, bloody liver." So said the
hypnotist at Champneys.
It was some years ago. A four-day detox prompted by a
little – shall we say – relationship to-do. In spectacularly unoriginal
fashion I'd taken refuge with my friend Mr. Absolut and industrial quantities
of the cocoa-based stuff. And having long assured myself that my arse would
never be as big as my head, I was spurred into action when I realized that this
was no longer the case: a high-flyer still, but now one in the form of a
balloon-dog.
I'm not, generally speaking, one for anything with the
prefix of 'alternative' (comedy apart) but things had got to the point where
I'd try anything. I was prostrate and Paul McKenna-lite had asked me to name
the most revolting thing I could be asked to eat and bloody, raw liver was top
of the list. He started to do his 'thing'. But the more he told me that I was
'under' the greater my realization that I was not. But I didn't want to
embarrass the chap so I went along with it.
On the drive back I wondered if I had indeed been put
under. Never having done it before, how would I know? There was only one way to
find out. Having dropped my bag in the hall I marched over to the fridge, which
I knew was keeping a Chocolate Orange warm for me. I tapped it. Unwrapped it
and then, gingerly, put half a segment in my mouth. Bugger me! It tasted just
like...Chocolate Orange. So much for that.
I suppose my will is too great. I can't be persuaded
that black is white and the wool cannot be pulled. This episode came back to me
lately because I started to wonder why some companies indulge in their own
brand of corporate hypnotism and think they can get away with it. You know,
company X fecks-up big time in a very public fashion. Everyone knows they've
fecked-up and why. But instead of admitting it and putting into practice the
stuff they drone on about such as, ‘knowing their customers are not stupid’ and
that 'authenticity is key', they sail on as if nothing happened. Worse still,
they spin, or try to persuade us that it was all about something else all
along.
Take Tesco – their
flagship Covent Garden store was unceremoniously closed just over a month ago
by Westminster council. I turned up one lunchtime to find the doors locked and
lots of people taking photos of something stuck in the window. It was an
order of closure, which outlined, in monochrome, why I'd now have to schlepp
over to Regent Street: an infestation of mice, poor in store cleaning and
hygiene regimes. Oh dear!
For three days it was the biggest tourist and local
attraction in WC2. It was all over the media and a prime topic of conversation and
not just in that neck of the woods. Locals and regulars pondered over the extra
fillings that they might have possibly ingested.
Some days later 'window blocker' posters appeared
telling us that Tesco was bringing us a 'brighter store' on April 10th. Deep-clean aside, it was clear to me that the enforced
closure was being used as an opportunity (disguise) to introduce the recently announced
in store rebranding elements. But there was no mention of 'the problems', just
something that seemed to suggest that they were tarting the place up and thus
doing us all a big favour. Disingenuous and foolish, I thought, especially
given the prevailing mutinous mood: the inconvenience, the mice and the
..."I don’t want to think about it." Many I know have voted with
their feet and defected to Sainsbury’s and M&S, vowing never to set foot in
the place again.
What will they do to reassure that all is now well and
problems resolved, I wondered? I needn’t have wasted my time; because the
answer is that they did big, fat, nothing. An in store poster of
acknowledgement and apology was the least they could do, I thought. But no.
Nothing. Just a load of balloons, 'warming' bits of wood over the bakery bit,
vinyl graphics on the columns and people on the street offering £3 off a minimum
£10 shop. It's like it never happened.
'Look at my balloons. Look at my balloons. Not around
the balloons. You're under. Nothing happened here. No problem here.' But there
was a problem and we all know what the problem was and we really don't like being
taken for fools, Mr. Clarke. It doesn't take anywhere as long to get in and out
of the store now. I wonder why?
Transparency, Tesco. It's a must. Admit and
acknowledge and it goes away. Spin, ignore or deny and it goes on. You
propagate, annoy and alienate.
The truth, Tesco. Every little helps...you.
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