BASF

Eli Manning, stop playing with my emotions.

It's really grey out today, as it is just about every day here in Ann Arbor. Perhaps it was the grey sky that made me drop a resume for BASF last week. BASF owns that monstrosity of a plant right off the New Jersey turnpike. You can see the plumes of smoke billowing from the plant from miles away. I google earfed BASF so you can see what I'm talking about...here...

When I told my Dad I was applying for a job at BASF (Florham Park Office...Flo Park represent) he said what is it exactly they do again, to which I replied "I'm pretty sure they don't make the products I buy, but I'm pretty sure they make the products I buy better". So why did I apply for such a job? I don't really know. Probably because they are close to New York, and because I memorized their slogan...which if you are a little slow on the draw this morning is ""We don't make a lot of the products you buy. We make a lot of the products you buy better." And that's trademarked by the way. BASF is far and away my favorite company that I have absolutely no idea what they actually do.

Yesterday morning a friend came up to me and asked me for some advice on his interview with a bank. First of all, when you're coming to me for that kind of advice, I mean, I'll do my best to help but there are at least one or two, maybe three people out there better qualified to help. I asked him why he was applying for the job since he was focusing on consulting. He said "I turbo dropped", and I said "you turbo chinesed what now?". Turbo drop is apparently when you drop your resume for a billion different places, which is I guess kind of what happened with me and BASF. I didn't realize being a moron had such a fancy name these days, but I'm rolling with it.

So this brings me to a little anecdote. I went to Red Hot Lovers yesterday, which is basically a hot dog place down the block and is actually owned by an old friend. I'm there probably once a week, and despite dogs being their specialty, I usually get the "Grand Slam", or as I like to call it, the "Grand Slamburger". Basically, a double cheeseburger with everything. So I go to the counter and I order a Grand Slam and the guy says they're out of Grand Slam patties, which as far as I am concerned is the pinnacle of unholiness for a dog and burger joint. I asked if he was messing with me because I saw the line cook flipping burgers at the grill not 15 feet away. He explained that the charburgers were not the same patties as the patties used for a Grand Slam, because they were thicker and essentially better. I'm paraphrasing, because I also heard "Shit", "I don't know", and "It's my first day here" in his explanation. I just tell him to put two charburgers on instead (yeah business school problem solving skills) because it wasn't my fault they can't stock properly.

Did I make the product I bought? No, the cook did. Did I make the product I bought better. Yes.

So I say this: BASF, I live your brand. If you decide to move your offices to Manhattan then come holler at me but until them I'm going to just hang out slamburger style.