I knew they were out there. This American Life had made me aware of people such as these in an episode called Plan B. In Act One of this episode, John Hodgman follows a young man named Ryan who dons the persona of Cuervo Man to help push tequila sales in bars. As Hodgman described the bars he visited, I knew that these weren't my kind of places. Not that there was anything inherently wrong with these establishments; it's just they didn't seem like the types of bars I was into. So my chances of running into someone like Cuervo Man seemed pretty slim.
That is, until last weekend when the Jagermeister girls came to Blind Bobs. I should preface by saying that I don't have anything against these product reps, persay. Back in the days of yore when smoking in bars was still legal in Ohio, the Camel reps would often visit Elbos and were perfectly nice and subtle about what they were doing.
Subtlety is what the Jager girls lacked. In other bars, where people have not paid money to hear live music, I shrug off a group of girls in tight tanktops loudly asking my table whether they liked shots of Jager. I also would've have merely rolled my eyes if they had called the bar to attention to have a contest for a t-shirt or some blinking plastic necklace. However, when they interrupted the band and joined them onstage to ask the crowd whether they liked Jager, I was pretty livid.
I don't care whether it's the best, worst, or an in-between band, it's so extremely rude to interrupt a band on stage. And what an awkward position to put a band in. If you're onstage, you don't want to throw a fit about someone interrupting you and look like a total prima donna, but you should also be a afforded some respect as the person performing.
I think Jagermeister and other brands need to take these things into account when training their reps.
