"Vambora, vambora! Look at the time, vambora, vambora!" - the Jovem Pan theme tune, was a non-negotiable part of my grandfather's routine.
He always got up very early. I remember once waking up at 6:30 in the morning and finding him standing up doing a crossword puzzle.
He looked at me over his half-rimmed glasses and said, ironically: "Good afternoon!"
"But, Grandpa, it's too early," I retorted.
"It's late for me." - he determined. And he always said that to everyone.
In fact, my grandfather was full of catchphrases. He had dozens. In every situation, people already knew what he was going to say from the context.
When my grandmother was preparing lunch, he would pull over and say quietly: "Are you going to be long? If it is, I'll get a sandwich around the corner". When she started complaining about him, it was his turn to "talk bad, but talk about me".
Whenever I was leaving, I'd say "see you on Wednesday!". No matter what day of the week it was.
He also called everyone Francisco or Francisca.
Yes, my grandfather was a real character!
Always an entrepreneur, he moved to São Paulo in the early 1970s, at the time of the economic miracle. People were super optimistic and felt they had built the future. São Paulo was at the height of this progress, and my grandfather was one of the thousands who woke up early to create a new world.
And nothing captured the spirit of that moment as much as Billy Blanco's Sinfonia Paulistana, used as the opening of Jovem Pan's program, or Franco Neto and his "here on the Paulista spike, six o'clock. Repeat, six o'clock." - which my grandfather often listened to from his office on the radio he had bought to keep on his desk.
It turned out that, as he arrived at work very early, he ended up leaving early too, and his colleagues who stayed late started using his radio to listen to rock and roll.
One day he arrived, turned on the radio and it was on another station. Until he tuned back into Pan, he lost the music. The next day, it happened again.
First, he asked his classmates to always turn the dial back to his station, but the kids forgot. Until one day, tired of having his morning ritual disrupted, he picked up the radio at lunchtime, took it to a neighborhood electrician and decreed: "You can solder it"!
The problem was over. Now the radio was on his favorite station forever.
But why am I telling you this family "mythology"?
Because, after years of laughing about it, this story gave me food for thought: apart from irritation with colleagues and attachment to the morning routine, what led my grandfather to weld the radio to a single station?
You have to have a lot of emotional attachment to that brand, to that program, to dismiss all the possible options.
It's not about reason.
It was my grandfather's heart that triggered the order and sustained the decision.
Yes, it was his heart. Touched and warmed by a catchphrase that spoke deeply to his entrepreneurial soul. By the music that symbolized his purpose at that stage of his life. He felt embraced, understood, connected.
When do brands make consumers "weld the dial"?
Starting from this story, I began to think: do I have an extremely loyal relationship with any brand? Which companies do I treat as part of my family? Which products or services welcome me to the point where I don't consider trying competitors?
Do I have that with a cell phone? Car? My son's school?
I confess it wasn't easy, but I managed to identify a few.
There's a Mediterranean restaurant near my house. Good, cheap wine, some tasty tapas and a cozy atmosphere. But what keeps me there is the story of the owner Adriana, who was abandoned by her husband and former chef. He went back to Spain and she was left with the restaurant and the debts. She had no experience of cooking. But she battled on, overcame a stampede of staff, a pandemic and is still going strong. We are faithful to her.
My gym. I went there coming out of burnout and with exploding cholesterol. I gained a second family. Several other gyms have opened that are cheaper, cooler and closer to my house, but I'm not leaving. They were there for me and helped me out of one of the worst phases of my life.
The pharmacy near my house. The pharmacist Amparo (that's her name, I swear!) calls me by name, always asks about my son, gives me incredible tips on offers and services and the staff talk to me on Whatsapp and bring my shopping home. During the pandemic, I took several tests there and I feel that we have crossed this hurdle together, and we will stay together.
Yes, I choose for price, convenience and payment terms. But I also believe that, in a world that seems like an ocean full of giant waves of uncertainty, people need "calm islands", which are the experiences and places that make them feel safe and welcome.
This doesn't mean that experiences have to be perfect. Of course, sometimes the app that always gets your food to you in a few minutes has problems and runs late. The attendant who meets you at the bakery isn't there at that time, the cafeteria is full or an ingredient is missing, and so on.
