Burger King: Master of Economics
So for the last few weeks I've been forcing Dina to go with me to Burger King at least once a week so I can buy all those new Star Wars toys they've been hawking. During the first SW promotion last summer, the deal was if you were a Geek and you had to have your precious toys but needed the extra fat and sodium content that a Kid's Meal just can't provide, you could pick up two toys with the purchase of a Value Meal. And if you were savvy enough to bring along your non-toy-collecting partner, you could get all the toys released in one week with one simple visit. Burger King happy, Toy Geek happy, partner fed. No problem, right?
This was the routine at the local BK for the last two weeks. Unfortunately, BK seemed to be running out of toys rather quickly. The new toys would come in on Saturday (such is my obsession that I actually asked one of the teenage clerks for this information), but by Tuesday (the day I chose for the weekly visit), most of the toys would be gone. Last week, the local BK had to resort to putting outdated Cat in the Hat toys (from the excremental movie, not the eternally magnificent book) into the Kid's Meals, presumably because Toy Geeks like me were buying up all the available stock.
But this shouldn't be a problem for BK. Because Toy Geeks are paying for these toys seperately, above and beyond the cost of all that delicious fat and sodium in the Value Meal, BK is making lots of additional profit from the sale of toys that can, by no stretch of the imagination, cost more than 25 cents to manufacture (I was being charged a buck per toy).
Last night, however, my grandiose plans for total Star Wars toy acquisition came to a dead halt.
The first problem we encountered was the clerk on duty. It was her first day and she had no idea how to ring up the toys seperately from the Kid's Meal purchase. While not an encouraging testimony to the hiring or training practices of BK, this seemed like only a minor setback at the time. We'll just find a more experienced clerk who has dealt with Toy Geeks before and can give me access to those plastic pals that I so need. A clerk who had served us before (at last--someone who understands the daily struggle of the Toy Geek!) gave us a welcoming smile and came over to help the first clerk stare at the cash register and its shiny buttons.
But then came a declaration of such incomprehensibly illogical proportions that I'm still trying to piece it together in my head: "I'm sorry, we can't sell those toys seperately anymore. We were running out of them too fast."
After politely explaining (Really. I was polite. I didn't even say any of the curt phrases that were whirling in my head like "What the fuck??!!" or "Where's your manager, dipshit?" or "Goddammit, I need these toys RIGHT NOW!!". I said all those on the way home.) that I had purchased both toys and Value Meals for the last two weeks (Actually, the first week I arrived too late and all the toys had been cleared out by my more quick-witted Toy Geek colleagues.) and that it was perfectly fine for them to sell me the toys seperately. But no.
As my protestations increased in volume, a red-shirted pimply fellow came out from behind the grill and confirmed the initial clerk's ruling: "Yeah, we kept running out of the toys so we can only sell them with the Kid's Meals now."
Da fuck? Have you ever heard of supply and demand? If you're running out of toys, which your organization has promoted ceaselessly on television and in print and online, then why don't you make more toys? And if you're selling out of the toys, primarily because helpless Toy Geeks are coming into your franchise to buy them at highly inflated prices, isn't that good for your business? Nobody's offering to buy up all those fucking Cat in the Hat toys you couldn't unload, even on the kids that usually buy the Kid's Meals! Running out of the Star Wars toys is a GOOD thing, you dolts!
What can be done in the face of such self-defeating business practices? I cancelled my Value Meal order in an ostentatious huff and proceeded to bang my head on the display case containing all the precious Star Wars toys I will never hold, vowing to place Burger King near the top of my list of Those Who Shall Fall Bloody in the Glorious Revolution.
This was the routine at the local BK for the last two weeks. Unfortunately, BK seemed to be running out of toys rather quickly. The new toys would come in on Saturday (such is my obsession that I actually asked one of the teenage clerks for this information), but by Tuesday (the day I chose for the weekly visit), most of the toys would be gone. Last week, the local BK had to resort to putting outdated Cat in the Hat toys (from the excremental movie, not the eternally magnificent book) into the Kid's Meals, presumably because Toy Geeks like me were buying up all the available stock.
But this shouldn't be a problem for BK. Because Toy Geeks are paying for these toys seperately, above and beyond the cost of all that delicious fat and sodium in the Value Meal, BK is making lots of additional profit from the sale of toys that can, by no stretch of the imagination, cost more than 25 cents to manufacture (I was being charged a buck per toy).
Last night, however, my grandiose plans for total Star Wars toy acquisition came to a dead halt.
The first problem we encountered was the clerk on duty. It was her first day and she had no idea how to ring up the toys seperately from the Kid's Meal purchase. While not an encouraging testimony to the hiring or training practices of BK, this seemed like only a minor setback at the time. We'll just find a more experienced clerk who has dealt with Toy Geeks before and can give me access to those plastic pals that I so need. A clerk who had served us before (at last--someone who understands the daily struggle of the Toy Geek!) gave us a welcoming smile and came over to help the first clerk stare at the cash register and its shiny buttons.
But then came a declaration of such incomprehensibly illogical proportions that I'm still trying to piece it together in my head: "I'm sorry, we can't sell those toys seperately anymore. We were running out of them too fast."
After politely explaining (Really. I was polite. I didn't even say any of the curt phrases that were whirling in my head like "What the fuck??!!" or "Where's your manager, dipshit?" or "Goddammit, I need these toys RIGHT NOW!!". I said all those on the way home.) that I had purchased both toys and Value Meals for the last two weeks (Actually, the first week I arrived too late and all the toys had been cleared out by my more quick-witted Toy Geek colleagues.) and that it was perfectly fine for them to sell me the toys seperately. But no.
As my protestations increased in volume, a red-shirted pimply fellow came out from behind the grill and confirmed the initial clerk's ruling: "Yeah, we kept running out of the toys so we can only sell them with the Kid's Meals now."
Da fuck? Have you ever heard of supply and demand? If you're running out of toys, which your organization has promoted ceaselessly on television and in print and online, then why don't you make more toys? And if you're selling out of the toys, primarily because helpless Toy Geeks are coming into your franchise to buy them at highly inflated prices, isn't that good for your business? Nobody's offering to buy up all those fucking Cat in the Hat toys you couldn't unload, even on the kids that usually buy the Kid's Meals! Running out of the Star Wars toys is a GOOD thing, you dolts!
What can be done in the face of such self-defeating business practices? I cancelled my Value Meal order in an ostentatious huff and proceeded to bang my head on the display case containing all the precious Star Wars toys I will never hold, vowing to place Burger King near the top of my list of Those Who Shall Fall Bloody in the Glorious Revolution.
posted by Chazzbot at 11:47 AM
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