She gingerly placed the scissors down on the counter with the smugness of one who had just proven the Mona Lisa a counterfeit. Charlie tried a different brand on the next visit, but those too couldn’t cut it.

The third time was a charm, as they say. Charlie unzipped a brand-new, Corinthian leather case with twenty pairs of gleaming grooming scissors in dazzling display on a black, crushed velvet field.

“These are exactly what I was looking for,” she proudly proclaimed, grasping the very same pair of brushed-satin scissors deemed unacceptable just two weeks prior.

Now that’s what you call “shear delight.”

And it’s freedom of choice in action.

The ability to select from an array of alternatives empowers us. We have weighed the daunting options, deployed our agile intellect and deft discernment, applied our personal criteria, and exercised our preference. The wheat has been duly sifted from the chaff.

We feel good about the decision -and about ourselves.

Charlie’s experience reminded me of designing movie 1-Sheets, you know, the posters plastered on theatre walls hawking some upcoming blockbuster that you just gotta see. The majority of 1-Sheets are designed by smaller “boutique” advertising and design firms that specialize in entertainment marketing. My dad owned one of those companies.

When developing a campaign for marketing a movie, he would present multiple ideas or concepts to the studio decision-makers. Why? Not only because there usually is more than one way to market a movie, or even because the film might have a variety of potential audiences.

“You always have to give them something to reject,” declared dad.

No matter that he had adeptly performed the “Vulcan Mind Meld” with the studio executives and produced a marvelous masterpiece of marketing that was exactly what they had envisioned.

He would still accompany that presentation with several less satisfactory, alternative directions, thereby making his preferred concept stand even taller. Otherwise, human nature and executive prerogative being what they are, he would have risked having his superb solution blasted out of the creative universe by the studio’s photon torpedoes.

Just like those brushed-satin scissors on the first go-around.

Now, every salesman worth his salt knows that you never offer a customer the choice of “do you want this or not,” but “do you want this or that.” Even better, perceptive retailers position product or service choices in threes: Good, Better, and Best.

(Obviously, good is not as good as it gets.)

Think car wash. There’s the Basic Wash Package and the Deluxe Wash Package. Then there’s the Super-Duper, Bells-a-Ringin’, Lights-a-Flashin’, Hand Wash, Spray Wax and Spit-Shine Package. Good, Better and Best in operation; something to select and something to reject.

Of course, Good, Better and Best are also reflected in the price.

Thus, the upside of giving customers something to reject is that you are also allowing them to upsell themselves, maximizing your potential profits with minimal additional effort.

Most grooming shops I’ve seen post their prices “ala cart,” if they publish them at all. True, such affords the discerning dog owner the freedom to choose, with plenty to reject. But that doesn’t necessarily result in more robust revenues for the groomer.

Enter Good, Better and Best.

A few savvy shop stewards have discovered that when grooming services are “bundled,” as retailers refer to such consolidation, they see an up tick in profits.

Take for example, Muttropolitan, in Los Angeles, a “sophisticated, modern salon for chic downtown pets,” according to their web site. While they do post many of their services “ala carte,” they also offer full-service grooming packages, uniquely designated “Refresh,” Touch-Up,” and “Make Over.”

Of course, we naturally expect that a “package” results in a savings over the combined cost of the individual elements therein. However, when your customers purchase more of your services more often you’re truly volumizing your profits.

In the process, the precious pooch’s “mommy” has been duly empowered to exercise her prerogative to pamper the pup with special “spa” type treatments. And, she usually will even feel better about having spent more in the process.

Everybody wins, including the dog.

And Charlie? You’d best believe that the brand-new, Corinthian leather case with twenty pairs of gleaming grooming scissors in dazzling display on a black, crushed velvet field has become another appendage.

The only problem now is keeping it stocked.

About the Author: Randy Pate, Marketing Director of WAGS, may not be a marketing maven, but he does know a lot about rejection.

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Long ago, in a galaxy far away, I installed custom spas.

One of these was in a condominium basement where space for the equipment was at a premium. So we mounted the air blower (you know, the thing that makes the water fizz like a carbonated cola) on the wall in the adjacent underground garage.

Not long after the tenants began moving in, an old woman, who bore a striking resemblance to Yoda in both appearance and syntax, complained, “smells like GAHbage the jacuzzi.”

We had unknowingly mounted the blower directly above what turned out to be the location of the building’s dumpsters. It was sucking in the not-so-fragrant aroma wafting up from all manner of refuse residing below, infusing the spa with its essence.

Now, you don’t have to hail from another planet to know that water can carry contaminants. Just ask any parent who has placed her young child in the neighborhood swimming pool. That yellow water ain’t lemonade, folks.

Well, maybe it was at one time.

Transporting contaminants is one thing; but can water create them as well? What happens when you add water, a “natural” substance, to “natural” shampoos, called such because they contain, among other things, no preservatives?

“Natural” Water + “Natural” Shampoo = Contaminated Product

Eventually, that is.

Nature is the original recycler. Simply stated, water contains bacteria. Bacteria feed on plant and animal matter. It’s one of nature’s ways of breaking matter down to its primary components.

At the basic, molecular level all living things are recycled. Thus, when any living thing dies, including our bodies, the molecules of minerals and other elements that comprise it are gradually deconstructed through decomposition, to eventually become reconstructed as a part of some other living thing, plant or animal.

All shampoos (and conditioners) contain some form of plant matter; some even use animal protein. Add water, and the bacteria, like swarms of ravenous piranha, begin their feeding frenzy; the decomposition begins.

By the way, foreign matter, like dirt and hair, also carries those hungry little buggers, and when introduced into undiluted shampoo can likewise cause contamination.

Some shampoo manufacturers add a preservative, a natural or synthetic chemical that prevents bacterial spoilage. Unfortunately, many preservatives release formaldehyde, that fluid of funerial fame, which, incidentally, is used as a preservative to prevent bacterial spoilage of the human body.

Thus, while an unopened jug of “natural” shampoo may have a 3-4 year shelf life, when mixed with water it may only last 3-4 days, at best.

How can you tell when something has gone bad? The nose knows. Odor is a byproduct of decomposition. When the shampoo begins to smell like GAHbage or the conditioner reminds you of Jaba the Hutt’s breath just discard it.

The best adage is “when in doubt, throw it out.” No use risking a bad reaction from your bather or the bathee just to save a few pennies worth of product.

Message in the Bottle

While there is much controversy over what may or may not leach out of plastic containers, plastic’s porosity means substances, like bacteria, can also be absorbed into the containers.

Bacteria can thrive in virtually any container under the right conditions.

Just ask Cody, who works in our warehouse. This past summer he left a large cup of a “natural” fruit smoothie in the office refrigerator over a weekend. The following Monday, seeking a refreshing respite from the sweltering heat, he slugged down a swig of the leftover nectar, only to notice a peculiar taste sensation.

Removing the lid to the cup he discovered that the surface of the drink had errupted into a putrid carpet of furry foam that was creeping up the outside of the straw like some alien life form.

Now, you probably don’t refrigerate your shampoo. But, if you have been careful to avoid spoilage, yet continually contend with contamination, the container could be the culprit. This can be especially troublesome to self-serve dog washes, where plastic bottles are repeatedly refilled with mixed shampoo.

Many helpful sites on the internet, such as eHow.com or howtocleanstuff.net (yes, a real web site), offer effective cleaning tips for plastic containers. Bleach, baking soda, and white vinegar are some of the more commonly recommended methods.

Of course, there comes the time in every plastic bottle’s life when you just have to apply the “when in doubt” rule mentioned earlier.

Plastic bottles are not immortal.

Neither are natural shampoos. Following a few simple safeguards, though, can help prevent irritated pets and irate customers.

You certainly don’t want  an angry Ms. Yoda on your hands, do you?

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About the Author: Randy Pate, Marketing Director of WAGS, although not a micro-biologist, is no stranger to odor. He showers almost regularly, mostly at the insistence of his wife.

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“Pick ‘N Save,” followed by, “that’s a funny name.”

After a brief moment of reflection he offered, “Pick ‘N Nose – now THAT’s a GOOD name!”

Shakespeare’s Juliet reflected, “What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.” Yeah, but if the rose had the name “Corpse Flower” (which actually is the name of a rare flower, which actually does emit the odor of rotting meat), how many people would want to smell it?

You’d never hear anyone say, “you have to take time to stop and smell the corpse flowers.”

Parents wouldn’t be naming their precious little girls after that particular flower.

Obviously, the choice of a name can enhance or detract from one’s perception of an entity.

In a previous life, I lived on the outskirts of the advertising industry for 20+ years. There I learned to appreciate the role an appropriate name plays in “branding” an entity or a product.  However, I have never seen an industry where the use of a play on words as a naming convention runs as rampant as in the grooming business. Don’t get me wrong, I have never backed away from a pun or a clever phrase spoken with tongue firmly planted in cheek.

But I can’t even count how many grooming shops sport names based on Central Park, Park Avenue or Bloomingdale’s Department Store in New York City. Or the title of Roy Roger’s theme song “Happy Trails.” (Don’t you dare ask “Roy who?”)

From the generic (such as laundromats and parking lots) to the famous (like Noah’s Ark of Biblical fame or the Queen of England’s residence, Buckingham Palace), all have been fair game for humorous appellations.

Paws, pets, pooches and puppies have all been pampered. All parts of the dog’s anatomy that you would care to mention at the family dining table, head, nose, whiskers, paws, claws and tail included, as well as those familiar canine vocalizations, “woof,” “bark,” and “ruff,” have been parodied and emblazoned on storefronts, business cards and web sites galore.

And what about that ubiquitous gesture of furry friendship, “wags?”

Oh yeah, we use WAGS, too.

You see, a while before I joined the family business, Ed, my father-in-law, asked me to rename his company. Now, I always assumed that creativity had rubbed off on me after so many years of close association with creative people. So, in an epiphany of self-proclaimed brilliance I thought: “well, wags is what a dog does . . . dogs get dirty . . . Ed sells dog shampoo . . . so WAGS could MEAN something!”

It was short and memorable, but it needed a purpose in life. With a little verbal crow barring, “West” and “Coast” became “Westcoast” and WAGS was born as an acronym for “Westcoast Animal Groomers Supply.”

Back to grooming shop names.

My affiliation with advertising was associated with movie marketing. Thus, in my humble, but biased opinion, some of the more clever shop names have been fashioned after titles of popular films:

“High Plains Clipper”

“Dirty Hairy’s”

“The Dogfather”

“Merri Puppins”

“The Wizard of Paws”

Here’s my personal favorite, “Indiana Bones and the Temple of Groom.”

However, there are also a lot of “plain wrap” names out there as well, like “Homer’s Grooming.” Not necessarily memorable . . . unless you’re a “Simpsons” fan.

Let’s face it. Some groomers just aren’t into “branding.” They think it is just for cows. And some customers merely select their groomer because they’re conveniently located.

But, if you wish to be more easily remembered, perhaps even with a chuckle, go ahead, use a punny name. Just be careful it isn’t such a stretch that customers are left scratching their heads as to its meaning.

Or that it doesn’t detract from the perception of your professionalism.

After all, Pick N Nose? Way too offensive.

And you surely don’t want to pick a name that stinks.