This is a short story of my journey into the reality bomb.
01 : Reality? In who's opinion?
It’s raining again in Amsterdam center and I’m standing at a tram stop, refusing to huddle under the tiny shelter in the middle of the chaotic street as to not be subjected to the foul cigarette smoke piping out from one human chimney, not a picture of health and happiness. At least the rain is natural right? I mean it rains for pretty much most of the time anyway. The story goes that Holland was created from the sea, and now it wants it back again. The rain is real, my soaked clothes are a testament, and umbrellas here are useless anyway if that harsh ice cold North Sea wind has anything to say. But I chose to live here, and being famous for flat
I can see a group of about twenty want to be passengers huddled behind the glass shield, slightly obscured by the matrix like running rain water over the glass, beyond the bellowing cigarette smoke, all stirring into their glowing hands, as if nothing else exists outside their personal spheres. One girl was actually uploading a picture she just took of a tram, going the opposite way I might add, onto Instagram, obviously a tourist as there seemed to be a slight hint of enjoyment as she selected the “Clarendon” filter, and adjusted the brightness, lowered contrast, and boosted the warmth before posting with #amazing.
She tried to take a selfie, but there were too many people in close proximity for the extended arched arm and duck face, and would have only captured a rain soaked me stirring directly back at her through the rippled wet glass behind. It may have been one of those funny stranger looking into your soul kind of photo bombs, but I doubt she would have found it amusing. No filter in the world would make that scene any better.
I try to avoid public transport as much as possible, and quite often other people when it suits me, but sometimes it’s unavoidable and necessary. Not adverse to a good walk in the right circumstances, but my soaking wet socks were squelching heavily in my boots and the thought of a hot shower after a heavy days work, stirring in to the black mirror, developing forecasts and business strategies, was super compelling.
I understand that time perception is altered under so many circumstances, as if some kind of Schrödinger cup of tea effect. Sorry, just the thought of tea seems super appealing as the ice winds battered my wet clothes. The tram seemed to be taking a very long time to arrive, and the electronic board was displaying one minute for the last five at least. So long in fact the smoking man lit up another one, in his non-stop chain of gradual suicide. I must add though that everyone seemed very tolerant, but then again their glowing hands seemed to be their only focus anyway, but I respect his right to exorcise his freedom, even at the cost of everyone else’s.
Again, I’m the only one bothered and noticing this, but maybe because I was on the outside looking in. There was a potential gap I could squeeze in the shelter and light up my hand with my new iphone, but the rain strangely seemed the lesser of two evils. But time was officially not moving, but the evidence suggested it was. That minute did in fact allow three cigarettes to be desperately consumed, and four trams to pass by in the opposite direction before the board flashed with “Storting” meaning the system had broken down, again.
It did that last time I took the tram from this very same stop several weeks earlier. It seemed to only happen for me, and yes it was also raining back then, but what are the odds. So this can only be perception of a bored mind. If I was to technically time the length of time it takes to boil a kettle of water, and then time it again by watching the process, it would appear to take longer but to the impatience, anticipation, and the focus required to stop the mind wondering away to do something more interesting anyway. So does the universe operate differently when your looking at it, rather then just focusing on something else in the mean time? Maybe that’s the magic of the black mirrors everyone uses, all the time. A realisation that the glowing hands are the escape from time and reality itself. Obviously I need something more to occupy this mind, as too much focus allows reality in.
My eyes wondered to a rolling electronic billboard, the only other black mirror that drew attention for those without the glowing hands due to battery life? A sequence of four rolling adverts electronically displayed either side of the tram stop were delivering to us other realities. Turkey apparently is the sunshine capital of Europe and super cheap to fly to for a luxury holiday. No matter how crap the hotel, the sunshine image of a blue sky, turquoise water, and white sands lapping at the feet of a perfectly young and healthy smiling family had to be better then freezing my ass off again this summer time in down town Amsterdam. I guess the current uprising against Erdoğan in the last few weeks was no concern for alarm, and that it was telling us Turkey is a part of Europe, even though in another continent must not have any political value at all, considering their application to join the EU, which we all know is a happy and stable community right? Turkish Airlines?
The last time I travelled in Europe for that price, ended up accidently in a resort in Falaraki in Rhodes, an unfinished apartment block from the 1970’s, complete with a camp bed and a poo on the bathroom floor. The next advert was a picture of some nerdy guy hugging a refugee and clutching a flower at Amsterdam’s central station, followed by the poster for the “Lion King”.
The final poster in the ten second rotation of four was a group photo of the smiling staff of Albert Heijn, holding a trophy telling us “Award for the best Supermarket in the Netherlands.” Albert Hein is the largest supermarket chain in the Netherlands and Belgium. They are everywhere, and super expensive with low quality meats. Their staff all seem to be angry young teenagers with little love for, anything at all really, with a heavy contempt for the general public, something I share, but not within a communications and serving role, as one has to have a sense of occasion. The shopping experience is I believe one of the most soul crushing experiences, just like the corporatization of all our streets, and paying a lot of money to see Martin Garrix perform at Ushuaia in Ibiza, another mixed bag destination.
For years I’ve gone out of my way to avoid Albert Heijn, not just because of the homeless guy attached to every entrance selling the homeless weekly paper, a nice piece of commerce and good cause I support from time to time, but not every time, and without the guilt that I bought the same paper from someone else, several days earlier, and that he was wishing me a good day as I struggle past him trying to not make eye contact, with more plastic bags stuffed with over priced nonsense food, and he’s probably sleeping in a box in the wind and rain that night.
Not because of the hypnotic signature jingle they play, every minute of every open hour, of every day in the years I’ve known them, which after initial irritation, becomes catchy and a recognizable subconscious link to associate food and hunger to their brand. Not at all because HEMA do the same thing, but everyone loves HEMA! Maybe that’s why I have the association with HEMA every time I see Bra’s and panties? That’s a long story for another time.
Not even because of the child staff whom all have a searing hatred for us, smashing public out the way in order to fulfill their orders by stacking shelves with packets of broken biscuits, fueled by hatred and deep contempt. I must mention though that not every trolley slam accident is caused by pure hatred, sometimes it’s because they’re steering loading trollies whilst looking into their glowing hands, flicking through snap chat or some other non-thing for the bored.
No, it’s not the sticky dirty floors and trails of black trolly lines and foot prints running through broken glass and something that was once pasta sauce. Or the fact their blue signature colour just makes the over packed isles dark and depressing holes to which few travelers return happy from the event horizon, stuck in very long slow moving queues as only three of the six tills are operating at peak time.
It’s just down to the simple hard fact of quality representing price. I’m a big advocate of good customer service, something that was close to my heart for a long time, even before I manage a Customer Service team for a large international company. It’s down to those two majorly important factors that if you sell quality, then it is expected to come with a price tag. I find no justifications at all for expensive trash, and am a major advocate of putting your money where your mouth is and support those other businesses who maybe smaller, but are willing to compete and give a damn.
I once told my VP that I design the service team using myself as an example. His look of bewilderment changed when I told him that I’m the worst type of customer you can have. I’m what people would term as a “bastard”. I’ve walked out of so many restaurants and venues without paying because my satisfaction or expectation was not met. No matter if your selling building materials solutions, or bread, you have one small window of opportunity to please the customer, and satisfaction can be easy, and is not as subjective or complex as some suggest.
I’ve always been interested in messaging, communications, as well as strategy and influencing. This is why this advert suddenly resonated with me. It was only there for ten seconds, but grabbed my attention for the wrong reasons.
The tram rolled past without stopping, showing an “Out of Service” sign in the window, and eventually the electronic sign flickered into action. The one minute was replaced by a further fifteen minute wait for the following one. Understanding the altered state of the reality of time from what the tram service was telling me, I dragged my soaking body across the city to another tram line, hopeful that it would at least add value to my journey somehow.
I passed several stops, each seemed to be a replicated bubble universe of the other. If life was a copy paste, this was a good example. Each stop had a revolving billboard, and I came across the same Albert Heijn advert on every one of them. In fact this was a nationwide campaign telling us all how they were the best super market in the Netherlands. It just continued to fuel my anger. Who gave them this award? How on Earth could they have won? Am I the only person with this problem?
It simply must be me! I know I can be an idiot, and sometimes have a shorter fuse then most, and without other distractions, do have a tendency to maybe over think things. For the rest of the journey, it became another one of those self-deprecating feel sorry for myself moments where it seems to be me vs the universe, and if it was a fight, the universe would win every time, so therefore my position must be wrong. Time for a new strategy.
Striding through the heavy rain and strong opposing ice winds was a discomfort, but was relieved when I managed to squeeze into another functioning tram several kilometers across the city for the last segment of my journey home that night. Pressed up against a window like Garfield the cat, amongst the masses of people with glowing hands, I managed to wipe some condensation away and catch a glimpse of that annoying poster as we slowly rolled away from the stop. There was some text at the bottom of the poster, too small to read, and had a mission to at least find out who presented this award, and try to figure out why?
I pulled out my black mirror and stirred into the glowing hand, asking Google to kindly tell me who is the fairest of them all. Somewhere below the multiple Google Adverts and sponsors showing up as search results was a link to the Albert Heijn campaign. The poster image loaded and there they were, the happy crew, all looking somewhat different from Albert Heijn staff I’ve ever been confronted with. Not only a whiter shade of pale, but most seemed to be middle class, healthy typical dutch middle aged people proudly holding their trophy. There is was again Älbert Heijn, awarded the best super market in the world.”
I scrolled down to the bottom, and zoomed in very hard to read the detail. Finally there it was, the truth. 'Best Supermarket of the Year' is an initiative of the Central Bureau of Foodstuffs Trading in collaboration with Reed Business and the Distrifood and Food magazine magazines. Awarded to a branch of Albert Heijn in a tiny little village deep in the central Netherlands.
So there we have the reality, and this comes as no big surprise to anyone, especially in the business sector, but somehow this resonated with me. For many years I’ve been in the cut and thrust of progressive aggressive business. This is not a crime, in fact they are not even lying to us. The truth is there if we care to observe it. They are celebrating their win on a national campaign, and are proving their pride in their business and people. So why do I know that it’s much more sinister? Again it has to be because I’m wired differently. Maybe I’m again looking too deep below the surface and don’t have enough distraction to care about something better?
‘Beste Supermarkt van het Jaar’ is een initiatief van het Centraal Bureau Levensmiddelenhandel in samenwerking met Reed Business en de vakbladen Distrifood en Foodmagazine.
Albert Heijn break no rules. Why should there be rules and regulation anyway, there are too many, and I’m a major advocate of common sense leadership. I like the basis of some governances and regulations as a finance and operations guy, to ensure things are good, consistent, and correct, but there is a fine line between police, and nanny state vs freedom of choice and thought. We maybe should just have a greater application of intelligent thought.
They clearly understand this is a deception, as we all do. Taking opportunity and advantage to advertise. This is pure commerce and marketing strategy. With super small print at the bottom that we understand nobody will read anyway, especially on rotating billboards where the message for lazy eyes and the subconscious just tell us they are awarded the best, that’s enough we would even care for on a conscious level. It happens everywhere, and it’s our own faults for not reading the small print.
So I can clearly establish that we all distort reality through communication, from Instagram images, conversation, and perception, and it is all subjective, even natural to one up, but what would be that line of acceptability? How far and deep could this go, and would it then lead one to question the nature of reality itself? This is just paranoid speak of an exhausted mind, and why go against the flow? Just continue to be seduced by the black mirror in your glowing hand and read the news headlines or something, because we know the respected news agencies tell the truth!
Finally home and dry, I turn on the TV and catch the late news, the US election is in full swing, BREXIT is happening, and ISIS are planning another Paris attack. So nothing to see here then.