I am not Swiss Chalet’s Demo.

They have never marketed to me .

Home, thine name is Swiss Chalet.I came across a press release today about their marketing efforts to appeal to curling fans (I’ve played once, but would never identify myself as such). And it made me think about their deal.

Over the years, I’ve always seen television ads of happy Caucasian families seated in a booth, about to feast upon delicious rotisserie chicken, playfully fighting over a festive special dessert, or a happy reunion between parents and their university aged child and heartfelt sass talk that leaves you with an warm fuzzy tingling sensation.

This has never applied to me because:

  1. my mother is a vegetarian. Perogies were never an appetizing option for her Indian fire-spice accustomed mouth
  2. my father absolutely hates Swiss Chalet. My first and last experience with him in the dining room involved having the waiter come back with multiple kinds of sauces that my father could use to flavour his chicken because he found the chicken sauce (aka nectar of the gods) repulsing. The mixture of ketchup and tabasco sauce was not going to do it
  3. my parents rarely took us out for dinner anyway, since we could be fed at home. Children of immigrant parents, *double tap to heart* you know what I’m talkin bout.

Despite this. I love them. And by them, I mean both Swiss Chalet and my parents.

I started eating Smoosh* in earnest when I was in University (*a nickname with origins that are long forgotten, like every good nickname).  Available on my University meal plan, ordering delivery was an easy go to during exams, winter nights, or when I hadn’t yet regained the use of my motor skills.

Since then, I have moved to the city and adopted the lifestyle of a sophisticated urbanite. And gone to the Swiss Miss on a bi-monthly basis. I love it. My friends (also sophisticated urbanites) love it. My father continues to loathe it, and laughs when I suggest it on their visits to town.

Now, of course, I am a confirmed devotee to the Haus of Swiss. But they could be doing more to sway the untapped/alienated public. I suggest this to the powers that be at Swiss Chalet: Have a marketing push to South East Asians, espousing the Heart Healthy options, as our population tends to suffer a disproportionate amount of heart disease (and maybe add some tandoori spice to the bird…just give it a go, don’t be shy). Or throw in some sophisticated urbanites in your next ad campaign. In these times, a delicious meal for less than $10 a plate appeals to more than just the Canadian curling population.

    Some may call it theft, I call it love momentos.

 

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3 Responses to I am not Swiss Chalet’s Demo.

  1. Lisa says:

    Let’s be frank. If you were a child of immigrant parents – you ate KFC. A bucket of chicken with side salads bought from No Frills was a TREAT! And don’t even think my parents ever bought any gravy.

    Swiss Chalet? That was too fancy for us.

  2. Pingback: A note for my mom. « KaliSheep

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