To the point: You're quite a brand!

My mom thus expressed how relieved she was about the uninjurious outcome of the matter - and how little my action matched her image of me, the "Friederike brand".

The dictionary explains a little more matter-of-factly that people say "You're a brand" when a person behaves strangely. The other day, Mom's exclamation came back to me, or more precisely, to my tongue. I almost exclaimed "You're a brand!" myself - in a classy watch boutique on Zurich's Bahnhofstrasse. Because some things there struck me as very strange. Above all, it was not at all compatible with the image I had had of the brand up to that point. With foreseeable consequences.

But from the beginning: The summer vacations are the right time to strap the plastic alarm clock to the wrist again and to give the valuable life stage companion watch for revision. My dear husband owns a Schaffhausen gem, I'm more into George Clooney. After our vacations, it was up to me to catch up with our gems again.

First I walked past Clooney. The heavy door of the boutique on Bahnhofstrasse was opened for me by a tiny Chinese woman so quickly that the breeze refreshed me wonderfully. Already a second lady hurried to meet me, who, after I had sunk into the comfortable leather seat, floated away with my pick-up slip and was back again in a flash. Since I didn't want to put on the piece of jewelry, which had been polished to a high gloss again, because of a competitor on my wrist, the lady wrapped it in a red, embroidered velvet case and dismissed me with "Thank you Mrs. Heinrich, have a nice day Mrs. Heinrich" into the summer heat. I would not have to pay the bill - after all, I had received a CT for a higher three-digit amount. That was included in the service. All that was missing was a snappy Nespresso and a foot massage. And perhaps a wink from George.

Delighted, I floated to the next watch boutique, full of expectation of what would be offered to me there. Perhaps a foot massage after all? One price class higher equals one class better?

I stood in front of the door and saw the bouncer strolling up and down inside. Me, sweating behind glass, he did not dignify a glance. I took a deep breath and put my hand on the door handle - the gentleman continued to walk up and down. So I pushed the door open. The gentleman let it happen, his hands folded behind his back. He said "Grüezi" artfully and looked at me expectantly. I wanted to pick up a watch, I almost apologized for disturbing him. The gentleman said nothing, but waved a man in a white coat from offstage. The dentist? "Yes?" the latter spoke. I held out to him one of the many pieces of silver-stamped paper that had been sent to us. His response, "No." I was beginning to get a little annoyed. I pressed the whole pack into his hand: "I'm sure you'll find what you need here."

He nodded briefly and disappeared behind a heavy dark door with a super security lock. I stood there. There were enough chairs, but no one wanted to have anything to do with me. So I continued to stand, the gentleman behind the door strolling. I felt stupid. To distract myself from this feeling, I looked at the clocks in the glass cases. Nobody was interested in me. The dentist came back, "Like this!" He slammed the clock on the table. I was allowed to sit down. "I'd still like to have the bracelet changed," I said. "That's possible," he said. "Pretty great, congratulations!", I thought and said "yes please". Again, it took him forever to return with the piece of leather, which, as it turned out, cost about the same as the overhaul at George's, which I hadn't had to pay for.

As I slid my card into the reader to pay the total amount for which we could have bought 37 Pop Swatches, the dentist barked at me, "Hold it, we don't do this fast!" "Sorry," I heard myself say, thinking, "you stupid cow, why do you put up with this?!" After all, I knew I was near the end of this shameful performance and just wanted to get out of the store. Oh, said the dentist, with the Böxli, by the way, they had delivery problems, whether I wanted to kill the clock immediately. Exgüsi, it is a men's watch. Moreover, I already have one on my wrist. Well then, he could wrap it up a bit for me.

Finally, I received a package: my husband's good watch, highly polished and ticking wildly, in a piece of bubble wrap. I asked him if he could put some tape around it, I said with an ironic undertone. Unmoved, I also received this service, of course free of charge.

Shortly after this experience, I read that screams alert the fear center in the brain. And I wondered whether there is also an alarm center for brands, where all the bells ring if someone damages the brand properly. In any case, if I ever have the embarrassment of buying a watch again - for our boys' confirmation or for our godchildren, of whom we have a few - I have instructed the bells in my brain to make a big fuss if I even consider buying a Schaffhausen product. Because some things are preserved far into the next generation. 

Anne-Friederike Heinrich, Editor-in-Chief
f.heinrich@werbewoche.ch