By Manish Bhatt
Founder Director, Scarecrow Communications
It was during our stint in Fallon, Minneapolis in 2003. The agency was Ambience Publicis, Mumbai.
We were at a pre-production meeting for a TVC for a leading skincare brand at the client’s office. One of the biggest debates during the discussion was “What should the protagonist wear – a spaghetti top or a saree?”
Predictably, the CMO had the last word and convinced the director that the leading lady of the ad-film should wear a saree, but with a sleeveless blouse. What better way to add a dash of sexiness and make the protagonist look modern and aspirational, he thought!
But then, the CMO suddenly remembered the importance of ‘corporate democracy’ and asked the Brand Manager (wearing a Mickey Mouse tie) for his opinion.
The BM hadn’t uttered a single word throughout the debate, and was feeling like a loser as he wasn’t adding any value. Expectedly, he pounced on this opportunity.
His prompt reply gave a whole new twist to the PPM: “I am OK with the sleeveless blouse, but the leading lady should not have any tetanus shot marks on her biceps. After all, we are a skincare brand and our USP is clear skin,” he declared. The CMO and his army of managers nodded in unanimous agreement. Every argument the director and agency tried to build in their defence thereafter was blasted away by the CMO and his dominant army. They counter-attacked by reminding us of category codes, research insights and brandished other ‘super logical’ weapons.
The director had no choice but to hunt for the one-in-a-million ‘sleeveless beauty with no tetanus mark’. Realizing how hard the task was, I decided to join the hunt. Being a creative person, I thought of an innovative solution to find the coveted lady in question. I asked my driver to take his annual leave and got myself a monthly pass on the Western Railways local line. I started taking the sweaty, chaotic 8.43 am Virar local to office. En route, I kept an eye on the adjacent ladies’ compartment, and checked out the women’s biceps for tetanus marks as they raised their arms to grab the support handles.
The seemingly lecherous routine continued for almost a month. My local pass was on the verge of renewal, and my married life had come close to divorce, thanks to my newly cultivated habit of staring at the biceps of women wearing sleeveless clothes.
On the last valid day of my local pass, when I had almost given up hope, I saw a stretched-out sleeveless arm in my own mardana compartment. As I examined it closely, I was delighted: it had no tetanus injection mark!
I gathered courage and tapped on her shoulder, and as she turned back, all my excitement fizzled out. She greeted me in Raza Murad frequency and my eyes stopped at her hairy, unshaven chest. Yes, gender-wise, she belonged neither to this compartment or the adjacent one!
In despair, I never knew when I fell asleep, with both hands still raised, holding the handles. I must have looked like a surrendering soldier in a lost battle. It wasn’t long before the words of a Maharashtrian woman jolted me out of my sleep.
The subtitles of her conversation in Marathi with a fellow passenger went like this:
“Do you have any good-looking friend who doesn’t have a tetanus shot mark on her biceps?”
"Why?”
"For a role in an ad-film!"
"How much are they paying?"
"Ten Grand."
"How do you know them?"
"I am the casting director for that ad-film!"
Suddenly, the excel sheet of the production house’s approved estimate flashed before my eyes. I recalled that the figure quoted to the client for the protagonist - the woman without a tetanus shot mark on her arm - was a whopping Rs 2 lakh!!! Realization dawned, and I figured out why even spot boys from the ad films I made in the 90s have started their own production houses today!
I totally forgot about the tetanus mark and a whole new topic of ‘Inflation in Advertising’ engulfed my mind!
(With inputs from Raghu Bhat, founder director and Sarvesh Raikar, creative director, Scarecrow)
Feedback: manish@scarecrow.asia
