"And, This Little Piggie..."
"Go ahead. Pick up the little pink pig."
How many times is this phrase spoken each day? And in how many languages? Search me, but I'd guess the number is a large one.
Shop owners, school teachers, and Mirage® owners from all walks of life and nationality become magicians if just for those few moments as they seek to entice the uninitiated. A good laugh always ensues, and both the doer and do-ee feel a bit lighter for the experience.
But there was a time when each MirageĀ® did not come with a little pink piggie as they do today. And, like so many other milestones in history, its inclusion was serendipitous. It was the year 1992 when I noticed that one of our customers, a hologram store in Phoenix was steadily increasing its MirageĀ® orders. Curiosity prompted me to call to inquire as to the secret.
It seems that one day a neighboring mall vendor dropped by the hologram store, spotted the Mirage® demo on the counter, took a little pink piggie out of his pocket, and popped it into the Mirage®.
Seeing this, a customer in the store declared that she wanted to buy a Mirage®. Then she dragged in a group of her friends to see the "pig thing." So, the piggie remained on loan for a while to the hologram store, and sales began to skyrocket.
The store owner helped me locate a source of supply for the piggies and they soon became a much-favored addition to our product. Since that time I receive occasional calls from distraught store managers whose demo piggies have "escaped." One particularly porous location that comes to mind are the Smithsonian Museum Gift Shops. For some unexplained reason the escapes are often discovered soon after one of many boy scout troops have exited the shops.
Which brings me to final note of "piggie trivia." For the first few years that a piggie was included with each Mirage®, I thought it was clever to give it a name and identity. So I printed little pink slips of paper advising the new Mirage® owner to take good care of "Wilbur" (remember Charlotte's Web?)
This all went well for some time until I got a call from a fellow in Arkansas. He brought my attention to the fact that our "Wilbur" was actually a "Wilamina" which he pointed out anyone could see by looking at its underside. I thanked him for the brief lesson in animal husbandry and quietly discontinued the little pink slips of paper as enclosures.
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