Friday, April 16, 2010

Applebee's new 'local' campaign confuses loyal customer

Posted by on Fri, Apr 16, 2010 at 7:00 AM

click to enlarge Applebee_s.jpg
Applebee's is getting more

'hoody.

So Applebee's wants its 2,001 locations to feel more "local," according to a story in this week's Kansas City Star.

It's confusing. Hasn't Applebee's, a subsidiary of Glendale, California-based DineEquity Inc., always been the place to go for the quintessential neighborhood dining experience?
 
I remember the night Applebee's stayed open after we lost the Big Game.

We had fought valiantly. It just wasn't enough. We walked from the visitors' locker room to the bus with our heads hanging low.

On the ride home, I could hear Coolidge, our best player, making whimpering noises. He took the loss hard. Or maybe he was sad that Salami broke his Discman.

As the bus cut through the night, Gomez suggested that we stop at Applebee's. "Riblets," he said quietly.

"Shoot, Applebee's ain't open this late," Goldstein said.

But Gomez had a notion that the underpaid and overworked Applebee's crew members might stick around for a bunch of meathead athletes. The bus pulled into the lot, and sure enough, the Applebee's apple was dim. But just as we were kicking the ground, the manager waved us in the restaurant. Our sorrows drowned in boneless Buffalo wings.



Coach announced his retirement later that year. Yep, the old man finally put away his whistle and his Bike shorts.

Good ol', vaguely ethnic Coach. A lot of guys on the team thought he was a pie-faced, stentorian jerk. But district championships don't win themselves.

What I remember most about Coach are the pep talks. During basketball games, he'd tell us to put the ball in the basket. Another time we huddled up and he said, "We can win this." The man was an inspiration.

There's picture of ol' Coach on the wall at Applebee's. I heard a story that he got tricked into hanging his portrait. Maybe it's apocryphal. Maybe it's true.



As for me, I joined the fire department when my playing days ended. Being a probie wasn't a lot of fun, I can tell you. Mopping floors, shining boots, finding tampons and wads of chewing tobacco in my coffee cup.

But there are times -- like when I'm sitting around a plate of crunchy onion rings with the guys and our white-haired lieutenant -- I know it's all been worth it.


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