Author: Family Friendly Daddy Blog

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How To Market To An “Unmarketable” Generation Y Dad

April 25, 2013 at 7:27 pm , by 

2 years, 5 months.

Dear Jack,

Honestly, I can’t remember the last decade I bought any product because of an ad I saw.  Yet still, I buy things… am I unknowingly responding to ads anyway?

Even though I consider myself an unmarketable Generation Y (born in 1981 or later) dad, I will buy products based on the principles a company stands for, like Annie’s Homegrown andChobani, and I privately boycott their competitors; because publicly banning is officially uncool.

(Hint: Social justice is especially a major selling point to Generation Y.)

With that being said, I easily parted with $4.24 today on a product other than food or gas:

I bought you your first Monster Jam monster truck today. I just couldn’t contain myself!

Why did I part with a 5 dollar bill of my blow money today? Did you do something special? Did you earn it somehow?

Nope.

Other than firmly standing behind the moral principles of a company, another way to market to a stubborn dad like me is to make me believe that I am bonding with and/or teaching my child by buying the product; especially when laced in 1980′s nostalgia. (Dads love to teach their kids lessons!)

(Plus, it helps the company to lavish in the fact that I’m not a doofus dad like traditional commercials portray me, like in this Robitussin commercial.)

Well done, Hot Wheels Monster Jam monster trucks. I could have bought the vegan spring rolls at Whole Foods, but no, I bought my son a purple monster truck named King Kraze.

When I took a minute to dissect my thought process in buying you that purple monster truck, I realized that I believe the toy reinforces the masculine play time that you and I share… even when I’m not actually playing with you.

For example, I know that you will be taking King Kraze with you to bed, to dinner, and whenever you’re in the car. My spirit lives on in you through that toy. Sure, I know that sounds ridiculous, but I’m standing by it. Plus, I wanted your purple 1983 Chevy Silverado lowrider to have a friend. (Standing behind that strange comment as well.)

Yes, I love making you happy. But… I’m willing to admit I also like making small financial investments in things that encourage you to be a loud, messy, crazy, little boy.

A purple monster truck, I believe, helps do that.

So, in review, a stubborn, penny pinching, Dave Ramsey following, Generation Y dad like me will magically buy a product for his son if he believes that…

A) the company that makes the product is morally superior (not simply superior in quality) and/or B) that the product will reinforce the traditional ideas and principles that remind him of his own 1987 version of childhood and/or C) the company makes it clear that dads are helpful and important, not idiots.

Well, I guess there is a “D” too:

D) Get my cool guy friends on Facebook to talk about and post pictures of themselves with their son using the product and/or “like” the company on Facebook and have that company acknowledge those Generation Y dads’ somewhat indirect help in guerilla marketing, because Generation Y like to feel their input matters to helping a company with its marketing and sales tactics. (Twitter is the relevant social media hang-out spot for Generation X, not Y.)

But in order to make that happen, A through C probably already apply. Yeah, I’m a hard sell.

 

Love,

Daddy

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Broken Branches On The Family Tree

April 24, 2013 at 1:28 pm , by 

2 years, 5 months.

Dear Jack,

Two weeks ago we visited my grandma, Lola Mendez Metallo, in the assisted living complex. She told us a story I had never been made aware of.

When her own grandmother was only 15 years old, on the way home from church, she was kidnapped by a widowed man who already had 4 children; being forced to become his wife and have children with him.

One of those children born to her was my grandma’s father.

My grandma explained that sort of thing wasn’t uncommon in Michoacán, Mexico back in those days.

It’s a dark story, and a strange part of our family tree.

I also know that your great-grandmother on Mommy’s side came to America from Ireland, as an indentured servant.

That couldn’t have been too awesome.

However, the fact that our family tree contains “broken branches” is nothing unique to our family. Climb any family tree in America, and it won’t take long to find some less than perfect situations which eventually led to modern day.

You and I also share Native American blood. I’m sure there’s an interesting story somewhere with that too. By interesting, I mean less than desirable.

It seems most old movies about the Wild West conveniently portray “the Americans” as the good guys and “the Indians” as the bad guys. (Accidental racist?)

I think about this stuff. Our family tree consists of both oppressors and victims.

While it’s easy to be removed from the reality that our ancestors had to experience because it was so long ago, if it weren’t for their hardships, we wouldn’t be here today. Their lives were just as real as ours are now.

Even just to think: Mommy was born as the 9th child of her family. How few American households in 1981 had a 9th child born?

The fact that Mommy was ever born is a rare enough situation to try to grasp.

You’re not here by accident, son. You are part of this universe for a purpose.

 

Love,

Daddy

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The Compartmentalization Of A Little Boy’s Brain

April 23, 2013 at 10:49 pm , by 

2 years, 5 months.

Dear Jack,

I am told on a weekly basis, by family members, by friends, by co-workers, and readers, that I am a very “black-and-white, cut-and-dry” person; that there is no gray with me.

It’s as if I put every situation and event in it’s own compartment in my brain; as if historyalways repeats itself.

Maybe that’s part of the reason I’m a vegan. All or nothing, right?

Maybe that’s why I make a living by discovering performance formulas for my company to help them become more efficient.

I look at what does work, separate it from what doesn’t work, then check for reoccurring patterns.

Sure, I realize the world isn’t categorized in perfectly organized compartments, but I work to help make it that way as much as possible.

Son, I’m pretty sure you’re going to be a lot like me in those regards. In fact, I’m pretty sure you already are that way.

Sunday afternoon as Mommy was preparing dinner, you got upset because she wasn’t able to play trains with you like I was. After about 90 seconds of a breakdown because you couldn’t stand to be playing without her though she was only 10 feet away, I had to take action.

You and I went upstairs to play. You had to be moved out of the compartment of “Mommy, play with me!” to “Me and Daddy are playing like boys!”

By the time we stepped into your room, you were fine with Mommy being downstairs… in a “different compartment.”

The base of our papasan rocking chair broke, only leaving the dome-shaped seat part intact.

As I spun you around and quickly swayed you, it magically became a yellow submarine, a monster truck, and a horsey.

Together, you and I were loud, rough, and technically violent in our Daddy-son compartment.

You stripped yourself down to your pro-wrestler/superhero attire, which is a diaper and nothing else.

But once Mommy entered the room, you became a different little boy; a little boy who wanted to read and wear clothes, not play.

I’ve also noticed that everyday when I drop you off at school, you get quiet the moment I hand you over to your teacher, not speaking or showing emotion again until after I’m out of sight.

Different compartments.

Who knows? Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe I’m drawing too many conclusions; because after all, I’ve already established that I look for patterns and formulas in everything.

Maybe little girls can just as easily be the same way. I wouldn’t know about that; no history to build on since you don’t have a sister.

 

Love,

Daddy

 

 

 

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The Public Demand For Vegan Chocolate

April 22, 2013 at 10:50 pm , by 

2 years, 5 months.

Dear Jack,

A few weeks ago in “5 Reasons Your Facebook Friends Are Going Vegan,” I mentioned that you and Mommy were practicing recipes for cupcakes for my 32nd birthday.

The outcome: Mommy and I agree that my vegan cupcakes (the Vegan Chocolate Cupcakes With Almond Buttercream ones from the vegan recipe blog, Oh She Glows) were so good, they were actually better than those trendy “$4 cupcakes” that we used to buy.

We were able to enjoy all the physical and psychological thrills of eating chocolate cupcakes, but without the guilt hangover afterwards. (The fat in the cupcakes comes from almond milk and olive oil, not animal products or bi-products.)

They were so perfecto, we’re going to make them again this weekend. Lucky us!

(Yes, I meant to say perfecto.)

As a vegan, it is nearly impossible to find vegan chocolate.

It’s one thing to find chocolate that just so happens to not contain milk or eggs, or even honey, but that’s not good enough for most vegans like me.

I also will not accept high fructose corn syrup (Monsanto much?) nor food dyes derived from bugs (Carmine or Crimson Lake) or petroleum (Red 40, Yellow 5 and 6).

As I’ve mentioned before, 2.5 percent of the country  now identifies themselves as “vegan,” up from 1 percent in 2009.

In other words, the public’s demand for vegan chocolate, as well as chocolate treats and snacks, has more than doubled in the past 3 years; in theory, at least.

So even if I sound extreme in my search for vegan chocolate, I’m clearly not alone.

Annie’s Homegrown, an admirable brand that keeps finding its name randomly mentioned by me on a regularly basis, is clever enough they actually have a “Vegan Snacks” tab on their website, featuring my personal favorite: Chocolate Bunny Grahams.

I should point out that Annie’s Homegrown is the only affordable and easily obtainable vegan snack source I have been exposed to so far.

For example, for my birthday Mommy bought me these awesome coconut cocoa ball truffles from some fancy vegan company, but they probably cost as much as a couple of bald eagle heads.

In other words, affordable vegan chocolate is a rare find.

Even if the major food companies ever pick up on this growing demand, I doubt they will be able to make a product in which vegans approve.

It’s probably not worth it to them to market to the 3% of the population who (I assume, if they’re like me) generally distrusts food companies who use petroleum and bugs in their food designed for children to eat.

We’ll stick with the plant-based stuff; even if we have to make it ourselves.

 

Love,

Daddy

 

 

 

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That Silly Purple 1983 Chevy Silverado Lowrider Truck!

April 22, 2013 at 6:49 am , by 

2 years, 5 months.

Dear Jack,

While my flat tire was being replaced at WalMart on Thursday morning, I decided to let you pick out a toy car. I was willing to spend some of my blow money (that’s Dave Ramsey lingo) on you; as much as $10.

You had been saying for the past month, “I want a purple monster truck.” So I figured you’d finally get it.

As soon as we stepped up to the toy car aisle, we stood before a wall of coolMonster Jam monster trucks, with a tough-looking purple one right there in our sight. You grabbed it.

Unlike U2 in 1987, you had actually found what you were looking for.

I thought, “Well, that was easy. How do we kill another 45 minutes?”

Then you saw a black monster truck… then a red one… and a green one…

Whichever new truck you discovered every 18 seconds, it automatically became superior to the previous one.

The original purple monster truck was 4 bucks, but now you were dipping into basic 97 cent Hot Wheels. I actually wanted to spend more money on you, distracting you with “Rasta Carian” from Mater’s Tall Tales, a $9 item.

You weren’t impressed with the dreadlocked Jamaican monster truck. (Really?!)

“Okay Jack, it’s getting about time for them to call my name over the speaker and tell me my car is ready. Go ahead and decide which one you want to take home,” I explained.

My own expectations had now been properly lowered. I guess I was just confused that you didn’t want me to buy what clearly you had been talking about for weeks.

And there it was, a purple… 1983 Chevy Silverado lowrider with white and lime green flames.

That’s the one you just couldn’t let go of. So I spent 97 cents on you and you were completely happy.

I like spending money on you by buying you special gifts, but you don’t care how much money I spend on them. I mean, hey, I’m not complaining.

You just seem to like the adventure of obtaining and opening a new gift. Then you always trace that gift back to the event in which you got it.

Sure enough, you have been bragging to everyone you see about your new purple truck.

Not just any purple truck, but that silly purple 1983 Chevy Silverado lowrider that Daddy got you when his tire got a nail in it and had to be replaced… or as you say it, “Daddy, yours tire fell off?”

 

Love,

Daddy