I’ll never forget the first time I first sank my teeth into an Arby’s Roast Beef sandwich. I was at Burger King of all places. I was about to take a bite of my Whopper with Cheese, no onions, when a mysterious figure approached. Due to the glaring sun that day I couldn’t make out his features, only that he was tall and that he wore a large, ten gallon hat. In his hand was a sandwich filled with layers and layers of thinly-sliced roast beef. “You should try one of these,” his voice boomed, causing several people in the restaurant to clutch their ears in pain. I took one bite of that sandwich and my life changed. The roast beef was delectable. It was as if you had taken a cow and pumped it full of steroids, transforming it into a beefy, super delicious animal. The horse radish sauce was a superb fusion, perfectly combining the flavors or radishes and horses. The taste of the bun could only be compared to making out with a wheat field in the middle of a sesame seed storm. I could tell it was pulled fresh out of the bag with pride. I set the sandwich down and looked up at the stranger. “I didn’t mean for you to eat my sandwich!” he shouted.
But I was hooked.
Since that day I’ve purchased my own ten gallon hat, which I wear with pride, not at all to the dismay of my wife. I’ve also bought a curling iron, which I now take with me on business trips, in case a town doesn’t have an Arby’s and I have to curl the fries myself. My doctoral thesis in college was a comparison/contrast between “Jamocha Shakes” and the island nation of Jamaica (there are many surprising differences). And in the early 2000’s I refused to use an oven mitt out of respect for your then mascot, which, I’ll admit, lead to several of my meals being burned and even a few trips to the emergency room.
It saddens me to report, however, that I have not eaten at any of your restaurants in the past few months, nor do I have any plans to do so in the immediate future.
It all began as I was watching television. ‘Lopez Tonight’ was on and I had tuned in just as the most entertaining part of the show had started, the commercials. A Dodge ad had just ended when suddenly, on screen, there was a bank robbery. A well orchestrated hold-up involving a team of thieves. ‘Did I accidentally change the channel to some high intensity, action packed movie?” I asked myself. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, a young man, who I presumed to be a stoner, walked into the bank and handed the robber a bag of Arby’s. I thought for sure the robber was going to shoot him right there on the spot. Instead, the thief took a bite of a sandwich and was instantly reformed (presumably much to the dismay of his colleagues who had obviously spent much time in preparation for the heist under his leadership). Then an Arby’s graphic came on screen. “A commercial!” I shouted, “how clever!”
That same stoner who had handed the robber the sandwich popped his head through the Arby’s slogan, spoke the word “Arby’s” then sang “It’s good mood food!”
Instantly a feeling began to weld up inside of me, a feeling like none I had ever experienced before. After doing some research, I determined that feeling was rage.
Over the next several weeks, I watched in horror as that presumed drug addict popped his head through my beloved logo repeatedly singing his ‘good mood food’ song. I eventually became so angry that I shot my television with a bow and arrow. Unfortunately it only cracked the screen, so I ended up canceling my cable subscription. Now it’s gotten to the point where I can’t even look at the Arby’s logo without becoming enraged. I’ve even rerouted my drive to work, tacking on an extra hour to my commute, so I could avoid all Arby’s.
Now, I realize this must all come as a shock to you. You’re probably horrified that this advertisement is having such a negative effect. I know you’re likely tempted to fire the man (or woman?) who created the ‘Good Mood Food’ campaign and sue him (or her?) for corporate sabotage, but I have a better idea.
Instead of having the “Good Mood Food” guy suddenly disappear mysteriously from the airwaves (much like the Oven Mitt mascot) and then having to deal with customers becoming confused (like what happened when you suddenly got rid of the Oven Mitt mascot without explanation), why not show what happens to the “Good Mood Food” guy (like you failed to do with the Oven Mitt mascot)
I believe the only logical action to take would be to kill the “Good Mood Food” guy in one of your commercials.
Here’s what happens. The “Good Mood Food” guy pops out of the Arby’s logo and sings. Suddenly, he’s shot back into the logo by an arrow. Cut to a guy sitting on the couch with a bow. “That’s for America” the guy on the couch says. Cut to behind the Arby’s logo. It’s the kitchen of an Arby’s restaurant. Two workers stand by the Good Mood Food guy’s body. “Good thing he didn’t fall into the food” one of them says. “Yeah, it’s safe to eat here,” the other one says. “Where’s the beef?!” We hear off camera. Cut to a guy. He turns round. It’s Ronald McDonald. “Shut up old man,” one of the workers says. Enter the Oven Mitt. “Hey, what’s up guys?” he says. “Glad you’re back from vacation,” they tell him. “I never left,” the Oven Mitt says with a gleam in his eye. “Aww yeah!” the workers say giving each other a high five. Fade to black.
You may use the above add free of charge. All I ask is that I get to play the guy on the couch and the Oven Mitt.
Thank you for taking the time to hear my suggestions. My hope is that you will adapt them and that my boycott of your wonderful restaurant can finally end.