How to weave a story, boloco style

My last three visits to boloco have been filled with snippets of the story the burrito chain is trying to tell me. Instead of telling me outright, they've been leaving clues and I'm finding it an interesting approach. Normally restaurants tell you what their story is on a plaque, in a brochure or on the back of a menu. There's no such thing at boloco. Instead their story has been unfolding in the actions they choose to take.

The first time I visited I noticed a sign on the door Member of Dine Green. Dine Green is a non-profit dedicated to helping restaurants become more environmentally sustainable. On my second visit I noticed that boloco only uses naturally raised chicken, beef and pork in their burritos (as noted on the menu). And the third time I visited I noticed that written on my smoothie cup was the message This cup grew up in Blair, Nebraska. It really did. It's made entirely of corn. It's 100% compostable. It will disappear no matter what you do with it.

It took me three times to fully hear the boloco story, but it was an interactive experience. I gained more from it than I would have reading a corporate statement. I'm not saying corporate statements are bad, and boloco might even benefit from being more outward with its story. But a story with no obvious action doesn't work either, and its within its actions that boloco excels.

The story of eggs

While discussing The Omnivore's Dilemma at my book group a friend noted that fresh eggs were available at the farmers market in Copley Square (Boston) this year. Another recalled getting fresh eggs from a semi-crazed farmer near her summer home and the buttery flavor that the fresh eggs contained. And yet another recalled how the taste was unparalleled to that of commercial eggs. After digesting this information I left with a mission – to get my hands on some fresh eggs.

After three weeks of visiting the farmers market and being told “sorry, we sold out an hour after opening,” my lucky day arrived (the beauty of scarcity, three weeks later and I was still excited about eggs). There was a refrigerator full of fresh eggs awaiting me. I paid my $4 for 6 eggs and was on my way. The next morning I toasted and buttered some bread, cooked the eggs ‘over easy’ and sat down at the table with pure anticipation, only to become completely under whelmed. The eggs tasted just like the eggs I routinely buy at the grocery store (and only pay $1.59 per dozen for).

The story I was told about fresh eggs was that of taste and quality, incomparable to commercial eggs. The eggs I bought at the farmers market didn’t live up to that story. And the farmers market offered no alternative version. The story I should have been told was that of sustainability, local support and famers’ pride. Essentially, by spending the extra money on fresh eggs at the farmers market I can make a difference in my community and receive a product produced with care.

The moral of this story – when marketing your product, make sure you offer a story that’s believable and lives up to the experience. Otherwise you under whelm and your brand under performs.

Image by cobalt123