“How can I help you, Mr Ranjit?” asks Paulina (pix below),
her tone sticky-sweet.
“I run a Bengali bread bakery and profits are
down.” A sigh rolls from Ranjit’s lips.“And
I don’t know what to do, so can you help me?”
Paulina leans back in
her chair, rests her elbows on its arms and steeples her hands. “Have you tried cutting
costs?”
“I use dirt-cheap Bangla labour, so there’s
not much I can do in that area. I don’t want to compromise on quality by using low-cost
inferior ingredients. I want to maintain quality.”
Paulina squints in thought for a moment. “Hmmm…So,
that leaves you with two options -- either increase price or pump up sales
volume.”
“People only eat bread in the morning. So, how
to grow the sales volume? Very difficult, some more I’m in retail sales.”
“Then you’ve to increase price.”
“How to justify the price hike?”
“Have you heard of the word ‘artisanal’ “?
Ranjit shrugs his shoulders. “Nope, Maam.”
“Artisanal food means food made by an artisan
and by skilled hands. It’s priced higher than regular food. There’re now
artisanal pizza, artisanal ice cream and even artisanal soap -- they're damn expensive! So, re-brand your
product and call it ‘artisanal Bengali bread’!”
Ranjit gapes as epiphany strikes him. “Well,
I’ll be…”
“What’s
the name of your bakery?” Paulina’s spectacles slide down her nose and she
pushes them up again (pix below).
“Ranjit Bengali Bread, Sentul.”
Turning sideways, Paulina taps a few buttons
on the keyboard of her computer. “I see that your bakery doesn’t have a
Facebook page as yet.” She flicks her gaze from the computer screen to Ranjit.
“Never mind, I can create one for you, call it Ranjit Artisanal Bengali Bread.”
Ranjit scrunches his nose. “What if customers post
bad reviews?”
Paulina gives a wave of her right hand. “No
problem! I can create dozens of fakey Facebook accounts to post good reviews!”
She raises two manicured fingers. ”You know, for every bad review, I can post
two good ones. In that way, we can maintain a healthy ratio of 2 to 1 in your
favour.” She leans forward on her desk, her
eyes gleaming with hope. “So, can we
discuss a social-media-based PR program for your bakery? It can be drawn up to
suit your budget.” She pauses for a reply but there is none. “But if you want
to go traditional, I can get a two-page write-up on your bakery in next year’s
edition of the Holy Book of Sikhism.”
Ranjit’s eyes narrow. “Err, I’d like to
consider your suggestion.” He sits upright suddenly, causing the cushion’s springs
to creak. “Can you give me your bill, please.”
Paulina’s fingers dance on the computer keyboard
and a printer on her desk spits out a
sheet of paper. “Here you are, sir, my
consultancy charges.”
Ranjit’s eyes flare wider when he sees the
bottom figure on the bill.“What? So expensive? This is ridiculous!”
“Mr Ranjit….” Paulina clamps her cherry-red lips
to stave off a grin. “I offered you artisanal PR consultancy advice, not
regular advice.”
/end
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