"Bring On The Dancers!"

Last week I joined a friend out for a few adult beverages at a local sports bar. It was a fun night, even as my friend channelled my grandfather in asking me just how long I was planning to go until I shaved my face again. One of the local sports talk radio station's street team was also there, running a promotion with Bacardi rum. They were giving away things like ski trips, mugs and t-shirts. (There are few things in life that are more of a let-down than a free promotional t-shirt. People are always really excited to get at them, willing to knock over children and the elderly to make sure they procure one, only to notice once they have it that the shirts only come in size 'Large' and fit more like a medium.) Having done more than my fair share of these during my time in radio, I was less than interested. About half an hour after we got there the promotions guy stepped to the microphone. Now, we were seated at the bar and couldn't hear him very well because the speakers were facing away from us, but he said a few muffled lines before concluding with, "The Bacardi Dancers!"

At this point six scantily-clad women came out of the adjacent room to do a quick dance routine. They were fairly attractive, but you just know these are the girls who make it to the third round of try-outs for both the Patriots and Celtics dance teams before getting cut. [Sidebar: I've been told that this assessment sounds kind of mean. Well, I'm just speaking the truth. After a decade of going to bars when promotions like this are going on I am absolutely sure of one thing: none of these girls are going home with me. They are only showing interest because they want me to buy something, which I'm not going to do, and therefore they will forget me as soon as they reach the next table. Knowing this, there is no need to pretend I'm even slightly interested in anything they are selling or make them think they are hotter than they really are. We can move the transaction along. The day a man comes to this reality is the day he is officially a grown-up.] Anyway, they break into their dance off to one side in a small space, with only half the bar half-watching. And when they were done they got a smattering of applause, mostly from the young drunk guys who have yet to learn the lesson I spoke about in the sidebar. Mostly, I just felt awkward for everyone involved.

This got me to thinking, and I have decided that having a dance team might be the worse way to sell a product ever. I'm sure it was an attempt to bring a beer commercial to life, but it doesn't really work on a cold February night in Massachusetts. Mostly I just found myself hoping the girls had jackets to put on before they left. Now, let's say each girl was given $50 for the night. You mean to tell me that was the best use of $300 by this company? There wasn't a magazine ad space to purchase or online viral video they could have shot with that money? Really, why not go old school and hire a plane to drag a banner behind it, because I feel like that would have been a better use of $300. (Think about it - when you see one of those banners in the sky, who doesn't stop what they are doing long enough to read the entire message?) So, I appreciate the attempt to be different Bacardi, but giving out $300 worth of free samples probably would have worked out better for you.