 A few months ago, the Heinz corporation introduced personalized ketchup bottles, which will surely be remembered as one of the most ridiculous new product ideas in history, just behind Spray-On Toilet Paper and Burglar-Proof Ham.
We ran a little contest where we invited you to submit your funniest phrases to print on a bottle of Heinz ketchup. Heinz rejects anything they deem inappropriate, which was most of your ideas, but we did manage to get ten bottles of personalized ketchup, after several months of back-and-forth with the ketchup censors.
I have to say, I was not overly impressed with the quality of the labels, which look like they were laser-printed at Kinkos. I was also saddened by the cost of the ketchup: each bottle was fifteen dollars with shipping, which would buy you a healthy vat of non-personalized ketchup on the open market. Now that I had the wacky ketchup bottles, however, I could finally execute my prank.
I went to my local supermarket and bought three bottles of regular Heinz ketchup. Unfortunately, they didn't have the glass bottles, so I had to go with the squeezable kind, which I then took home for the ol' switcheroo.
PRANK RETURN #1: HOLD THE MAYO
Now that I had a receipt for three legitimate bottles of Heinz ketchup, I put one of the joke bottles in my plastic bag and took it back to the supermarket return counter. First I returned the one that read MAYONNAISE.
The customer service booth was staffed by a young black man with thick black-framed glasses: Urkel's less-successful younger brother.
"I'd like to return this mayonnaise," I said, holding out my receipt. "I think something's wrong with it."
"Whoo-ee!" he said, holding it up to the light. "Day-um!"
"I think it's rancid or something."
"Hoo!" he said. "This doesn't even look like mayonnaise."
"Maybe the eggs are spoiled," I suggested.
"I don't know what this is."
"I know I'm not putting that in my tuna," I said firmly. "It looks like it has salmonella or something."
"How do we return this?" the clerk asked his co-worker, a heavy Latino guy.
"Does it have a barcode?" the co-worker asked, holding the "mayonnaise" to the light. I hadn't anticipated the barcode problem, but they shrugged it off. "Ah, just refund his money."
I had spent over a hundred bucks on ketchup so far, but now I was two dollars richer. The prank was paying off.
PRANK RETURN #2: PEOPLE EATING THE ANIMALS
I walked into the same supermarket half an hour later, this time with the bottle reading NOT TESTED ON ANIMALS, BUT TASTES GREAT ON THEM. Fortunately, the same two customer service guys were still on duty.
"I just got back to my apartment," I told them, "to discover this."
Urkel's brother turned it over, frowning.
"What the hell is this?" I fumed. "I find this label offensive, since I'm a great lover of animals. I belong to PETA."
At the mention of the radical animal-rights group, the two customer service clerks shot a glance at each other. "I'll call Bob," said the Latino guy.
Secretly taken from my cameraphone as he calls Bob.
They called the store manager. You know I was sweating tomato sauce as Bob, a middle-aged bearded guy, came over to see what was wrong. "What's the problem?" he asked the clerks.
"You'll have to see this to understand," said Urkel II, handing him the bottle.
"I want a refund," I demanded. "I have a receipt."
"I don't know what this is," said Bob, turning the bottle in his hand. "Maybe it's some kind of Heinz promotional stunt."
"Is it funny?" I asked.
"No," he admitted. "No, it's just kind of weird."
"Well, I find it offensive," I told him. "I love animals. In fact, I'm a vegetarian, so it's factually incorrect as well."
"Maybe there was some kind of labeling error," Bob reasoned. He couldn't have been more helpful and friendly. "No problem," he told the customer service clerks. "Give him his money back."
I sensed they weren't super-keen on the idea of refunding my money this time, but they did as they were told, and I walked away victorious on Round 2.
PRANK RETURN #3: RED-HEADED STEPCHILD
For the final round, I chose the bottle that read LATHER. RINSE. REPEAT. I slathered my head in ketchup, really working it into my scalp, all the way to the roots. I had ketchup on my forehead, my face, my hands, as I walked into the supermarket. I looked like I had suffered massive head trauma in a condiment factory explosion.
Urkel Jr. saw me approach the counter, and his eyes bugged out. "DAY-UM," he said.
"I thought it was shampoo," I said, holding out the bottle and my receipt.
There was a long, uncomfortable silence.
"Rhonda?" he asked, and the manager behind him turned around. This was the executive store manager, the VP of Supermarket Operations or some Shakespeare. She was a short, middle-aged woman with curly hair who recoiled slightly at seeing me.
"Did you return two bottles of ketchup earlier?" she asked, quickly regaining her footing.
"Yes."
"There were no barcodes on those bottles," she said. I could tell right away I was going to have my hands full. Which was a problem, since they were already full of ketchup.
"I don't know what to tell you," I responded. "I thought this was shampoo, and I'd like my money back." I held out the bottle, which was slippery with catsup.
"Should I review the videotape?" she asked.
"Sure."
I waited at this counter for a long time.
She left, and was gone for fifteen solid minutes. Man, was it awkward. I patiently stood at the courtesy booth, while customers bought scratch tickets and cigarettes. People strenuously avoided looking at the tomato-headed freak.
"I reviewed the tape," she said when she finally returned. "And it looks like you bought three squeeze bottles of ketchup, not glass bottles. Is that possible?"
"Well, I do buy a lot of ketchup," I admitted. "But I have my condiments extensively organized and cataloged, so a mixup would be highly unlikely."
"If you're a ketchup collector," she said, "the Heinz label would be familiar to you. How would you mistake this for shampoo?" She was good. She was Frost-ing Matlock.
"It was an honest mistake," I said. "It was dark in the shower."
"The label has ingredients of tomatoes, corn syrup, water..." She was cross-examining me now. "Also, there is a nutrition label." It figures I would get the manager with a Frost-ing law degree. "It says on the label, myheinz.com."
"But it also says LATHER, RINSE, REPEAT," I pointed out.
Now there were half a dozen supermarket employees surrounding us. One woman was radioing for security. I cannot tell you how difficult it was to keep a straight face. Staying in character was excruciating.
"The way I see it," the manager continued, "we returned your two earlier bottles, so you're ahead $4.00."
"Let me make you a deal," I conceded, pulling out my wallet. "Take the $4.00." I handed her four bills.
She eyed the money warily, as if it were a flesh-colored piece of rubber she suspected might actually be a butt plug. Reluctantly, she took it.
"I just want to make sure there's no misunderstanding here," I said.
"Okay," she said, not prepared for this latest turn of events. "And I'll give you the bottles back?"
"No," I said. "I want you to refund my $2.00 for the ketchup masquerading as shampoo."
One of the assistant managers threw her hands up in the air, exasperated. "I'm going to go wait for security." She ran out the front door, and I kept an eye on her, trying to time my exit.
"You just gave me $4.00," the manager repeated slowly. "Now you want $2.00 back."
"Yes. I'd also like some free shampoo, to wash the ketchup out of my hair."
"That's not going to happen," she said.
"Is this Candid Camera?" one of the nearby customers asked, cracking up. "Where the hell is the camera?" Idiot didn't know that we can't afford a camera.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw three uniformed security guards coming in, so I knew it was time to wrap up. "I've got to go now," I said. "I'm sorry we couldn't work this out. But one more question: do you sell french fries?"
"Right around the corner," she said, now more confused than in control.
"Thanks," I said. I took a quick right turn up aisle 3 (baking needs), then ducked out the front door. I waited there until the security guards left, trying desperately to get a picture on my crappy cameraphone.
You'll have to take my word that the shadowy figure is the last of the three security guys walking away.
Just so there were no hard feelings, I went home and ordered a custom bottle of ketchup to be delivered to the supermarket:
John Hargrave, the King of Dot-Comedy, is a performer, speaker, and author of the upcoming bestseller Prank the Monkey. Thanks to Chris Bell for the ketchup shampoo idea. Click here to read past articles >>
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