Tater Tot and I were at the grocery store the other day, and I stopped by the deli to get some turkey and ham. We’ve eaten enough PB&J sandwiches lately to keep the makers of Jiff and Smuckers from going bankrupt anytime soon, and I decided to stir things up on the old lunch menu. You know how we Taters like to live on the edge and all.
Tater Tot was a little on the grouchy side, even though we managed to score one of the airplane-carts. From the deli you can see the floral/balloon department, and there was a Nemo balloon that he was convinced he needed. When a balloon costs more than a pound of ham, Mama says no. Yes, it will last longer than the ham, but we can’t eat it and it will only end up on the ceiling 10 minutes after bringing it home, upon which the toddler’s grouchiness will return. Hence, no balloon, and only one round of grumpiness is endured.
When I asked for the turkey, Tater Tot said, “Mama I don’t want turkey.” I told him that he didn’t have to eat the turkey; I would eat it. When I asked for the ham, he said, “Mama, I don’t want ham,” so I said that Daddy would eat the ham. And then I may or may not have whispered a couple of things in his ear about being a littler nicer, because the cheerful toddler I’m used to reappeared before my very eyes.
As the sweet lady behind the counter was hamming it up, so to speak, Tater Tot said, “I want the chocwit ham.”
Excuse me? Chocolate ham?
“Mama, I want it. I want the chocwit ham! The chocwit ham, Mama!”
I could not figure out what in the world he was talking about. I pointed to the ham and asked if he wanted that. That wasn’t it. I pointed to another kind of ham. ”No, Mama. The chocwit ham!”
Finally, I started going down the line, and at last he said, “Yes! That! I want the chocwit ham!”
It was the roast beef.
Dear Sara Lee,
Here’s a marketing tip. Change the name of your deli roast beef to “chocolate ham” and see if sales pick up. I think it looks like chocolate ham, so I’m calling it chocolate ham. I think I’m eating chocolate ham, and I love it. I want my Mama to buy more of it, and she noticed that it is almost a dollar higher per pound than regular ham. But she’ll buy it because she’s really sick of PB&J sandwiches. If the idea catches on, I would very much like a job in your marketing department in about 22 years, after which I will have my MBA. (My Mama made me write that part.)
See y’all at the deli counter.