Absorbing change is appropriate. But resisting bad change is also called for at times. I think I know what “product” means. But I found it odd when my banker recently described the various home mortgages she was offering me as “products.” My broker talks about the available choices of mutual funds as investment “products.” OK, so I’ll eventually get used to this.
But when I recently asked the PR director of a major resort about snow conditions, she answered, “Oh, we’ve got plenty of product on the mountain.” Had I heard correctly? Was she really talking about snow—that glorious, beautiful, shimmering, glistening, fluffy, sexy stuff we need for all manner of fun, such as building snowmen, throwing snowballs and all types of exuberant sliding? This is a “product,” for heaven’s sake?
Is a sun-drenched beach a “product” to the Coppertone set? Or a brilliant, curling wave a “product” to the surfer? Or a dish of Beluga caviar a “product” to the gourmet diner?
If our industry starts to think of snow, whether natural or machine-made, as a product, we’re in trouble. I don’t think our own sales executives should think this way any more than Tiffany’s would market a $57,000 bracelet as a “product.” Snow is the very basis of our sport’s appeal. It is our most prized asset, the quintessence of our most compelling image. To think of it as “product” is more than insensitive: it is suicidal.
Please, think snow; don’t think product!
