« The Way I Heard It with Mike Rowe

Episode 48: An Unmistakable Sound

2017-03-28 | 🔗

Bob was a Mad Man who could sell anything - but this new product gave him a terrible headache.  

This is an unofficial transcript meant for reference. Accuracy is not guaranteed.
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Hey, there's micro. This is the way I heard it's the only podcast for the curious mind with a short attention span: hey if you already picked up my book the way I heard it. Please accept my heartfelt thanks. I am grateful and if you liked it I'd, be grateful again if you took a second time you would, over at Amazon by publisher, says the reviews are really important and I'm trying to impress my publisher if you haven't picked up a copy, you can find one at micro dot com, slash book. The book itself is a combination of worries from this podcast, interrupted by a series of story
from my own misspent youth and dubious career in the world of nonfiction television, eight brag. But it is the New York Times best seller and my mom says it's. The feel good head of the holiday season had an about that. But we do have a few autographed copies left at micro, dotcom, Slash book and I'm told they would make ideal. Christmas presents hashtag just say and pick up a copy micro dotcom, Slash book stuff me in somebody stocking I'd, be grateful this the Wired for Bob Stanford, the moments of inspiration was accompanied by the unmistakable sound of aloud and noisy fart humbling and unexpected reverberation. That made his secretary sir
copperhead around and blush with embarrassment. On his behalf, the year was one thousand nine hundred and sixty six and the legendary advertising executive admitted his desk all morning fighting off a splitting headache brought on by an old product that needed a new name, a name that Bob Stanford was floundering to find. Perhaps you should call it the ice pick in honor of his biggest client and the stabbing sensation behind is right. Eye bob chuckled at the irony Uncle Johnny would have appreciated that back in the days before everyone had a refrigerator uncle Johnny sold ice to the working stiffs in Dallas customers counted on Uncle Johnny to be there when they needed him. So Uncle Johnny open early and close late customers loved him for that, because
Back then, grocery stores were only open from ninety five, not much good for the blue collar type two got up early and came home late, so it was only a matter of time until people started asking Uncle Johnny to stock more than nice, they wanted milk and eggs and cheese and vegetables, so Uncle Johnny, obliged them keeping produce cold was no big deal for a man who sold ice and besides, he was open anyway. Thirty years later, at three hundred miles, north of Dallas, another shopkeeper was
trying to appease another group of demanding customers. Unfortunately, Omar need Lake had himself a busted soda fountain bad news for the sweaty kids of coffee, Vill Kansas, who lined up every day for ice cream sodas. Worse news for Omar Need lick, who resigned himself on that hot summer morning to mixing the sodas by hand, Omar shoved a case of pop into the back of his deep freeze, hoping to call them down in time for the lunch rush. Then he got distracted. A shopkeepers often do until little Nathan Anderson wandered in and requested an ice cold. Coke o Omar ran back to his freezer, hoping the bottles hadn't exploded. They hadn't, but when little Nathan took a sip of o Mars ice cold soda, he got more than a bargain. For after that thing,
happen fast Nathan told his best friend MAX about the weird colors over it. Needless shop MAX told his big sister, Clara and before long, the sweaty kids of coffee veil, Kansas, were lined up on the sidewalk demand, a soda from oh Mars, magical freezer, Omar Sensing, something akin to an opportunity, quickly, pact, all his soda pop into the deep freeze and prayed for more hot weather. He got it, but he also got a hell of a mess when his pop bottles started exploding there's just no way to properly time their removal so Omar in what can only called in homage to his inner Macgyver removed and air conditioner from an old Ford, along with a tumbler, a fan belt and a few other odds and ends. It took him three years of tinkering to perfect his d
eyes, but when it finally came together, Omar knew he was onto something big. So he took his proprietary machine to Uncle Johnny's little store and asked a very reasonable question. Do you want one? The short answer is yes, so Uncle Johnny's people quickly licensed the rights to Omar need lakes, new fangled machine, but they didn't licence its name or the name of the product it made, and that brings us back to Bob stand for its office in nineteen. Sixty six, his splitting headache and his desperate search for a new name, Bob rubbed his temples and racked is green for something fun, something whimsical, something unexpected the legendary add man regarded the nameless product now sweating all over his mahogany desk, then, in the time honoured trading,
of Madison Avenue, Bob Stanford picked up the product, put it into his mouth and started sucking hard Bob sucked hard enough to create an unmistakable sound, a sound that snapped his secretaries had around and caused her to blush a sound that many believe inspired the greatest name in the history of modern advertising. The rest, as they say, is history thanks to a few bottles of exploded. Soda pop and the slushy mess they left behind Omar Need was inspired to create a brand new form of refreshment and thanks to Uncle Johnny a man who opened early and closed late, his former ice house would become
the permanent home of O Mars, great and lasting contribution to western civilization. Today, Uncle Johnny's is still called seven eleven, even though their open twenty four hours and their kids of all ages still stand in line to risk. A brain freeze
the very same headache that plagued Bob Stanford as he enjoyed a product Omar had christened the icy sure he could have remained at the forty in honour of the unmistakable sounded made when he slept the contents from the bottom of the cup, but Bob Stanford being a legendary. Add man wisely concluded that the forty probably wouldn't led to twenty billion dollars in gross sales. The slur be, however, now that was a name that didn't suck anyway. That's the way I heard.
Transcript generated on 2019-12-31.