Jasper was.
And may very well still be.
A bit of a twat.
Twat.
It wasn’t just me that thought Jasper was a twat, mind.
He was 6 foot 4.
Thin as a rake.
Glasses.
Spoke fast.
(Always about himself).
And he was my Senior Area Manager when I managed McDonald’s Restaurants.
But as well as all that ‘Jacob-Rees-Mogg-with-a-five-star-badge-ness’ – he, accidentally, taught a 22 year old me quite a lot about brand.
Rubbish.
You see, every time I saw Jasper.
Up close.
Far away.
Silhouetted.
Whatever.
He had at least one hand completely packed with rubbish.
Golden Arches.
If the Jasper I knew back then fell into the world’s largest circular saw.
Sideways.
So that it bisected him at the waist.
You’d have seen not blood.
But Golden Arches.
Because Jasper loved McDonald’s.
He loved McDonald’s through-and-through.
Jasper loved McDonald’s so much that wherever he was in the world.
If ever he saw McDonald’s packaging he’d pick it up, stuffing cup after cup after bag after straw after McDonald’s branded box into one, or sometimes both of his McDonald’s adoring hands.
Brand.
The 22 year old me, obviously thought:
“There goes twatty Litter-Picker Jasper.”
The 55 year old me, obviously now realises:
“He. Knows. Brand.”
Jasper understood, probably before most people, that any brand’s discarded crap erodes brand love.
And he actually had the balls to do something about it.
So for that memory, I will be forever grateful to Jasper.
Even though when you shook his hand, it was smelly.
And he was.
And may very well still be.
A bit of a twat.
…
Full disclosure.
One of the reasons I wanted to write this story is to use the word ‘Twat’ as a subheader.
Thank you.
