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- May 23, 2003
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- 4,580
Beware urban myths which catch the unwary in a web of lies
The lads' magazine Loaded had to issue a grovelling apology to Heinz, the baked beans maker, this month. The magazine, as part of a piece called Pointless But True, had fallen for a persistent urban myth that Heinz once manufactured a special range of alphabet spaghetti for the German market during the Nazi years, consisting entirely of tiny pasta swastikas. In the process, the magazine had woken to the corporate nightmare that such legends can represent.
We all know urban myths - the dead granny on the roof rack who, unaccountably, disappears; the alligators released into the sewers that climb up the lavatory U-bend. Psychologists explain how they allow us to laugh at exaggerated versions of what might otherwise be real fears.
The late Norman Mailer coined the word factoid for a fact that, while entirely untrue, has been circulated so widely and is believed by so many that it might as well be true. A large number of prominent companies have attracted such myths, and they have spent years and millions trying to extirpate them.
The internet provided such myths with both a seedbed and a powerful source of fertiliser. One of the most pervasive concerns Procter & Gamble, the American detergents group that makes Tide. The company has pleaded for some decades that it has no links with Satanism, a belief that has to do with its original Man in the Moon logo. This dates back to 1851 and is claimed to contain a disguised 666. In addition, there are 13 stars. And if you look at them in a certain way... The rumours were kickstarted again by reports that the company's president had appeared on a television chatshow and revealed that P&G donated a proportion of its profits to the Church of Satan (he didn't). This is a quoted company on the New York Stock Exchange. As Snopes.com, the excellent American website that chronicles urban myths, puts it dryly: Were P&G handing any portion of its profits to Satan, that would be readily apparent in its financial statements.
There are plenty of other corporate myths. With grateful thanks to Snopes.com, here are some:
The car that didn't go: the Chevrolet Nova failed to sell in Spanish-speaking countries because it translates as doesn't go in Spanish. In reality, Novas had no problem selling south of the Rio Grande. Plus, as Snopes points out, Mexico's national petrol company sells fuel under the same name.
Teenage mutant Cabbage Patch Dolls: Coleco, the maker of these toys, was reputed to have sent official-looking death certificates to little kiddies who had the temerity to send damaged ones back for repair. Or, in another version, bills for the doll's funeral. Needless to say, it didn't.
Coca-Colonialisation: the soft drinks gets an entire page on Snopes. Yes, it did used to contain cocaine, but a long time ago. No, it is not owned by the Mormons. And no, it never outraged the Muslim world by plastering an ad over the Dome of the Rock in Jerusalem - even though the clearly Photoshopped evidence is often produced. However, the company was accused of being anti-Semitic during the anti-Israeli boycott by Arab nations.
Pizza the action: Domino's Pizza shelved its promise to deliver within 30 minutes or less after one of its vans ran over a child. Quite untrue, but the claim was dropped over concerns that the company might be seen to promote dangerous driving.
Named and shamed: adidas is not an acronym for All Day I Dream About Sex. It comes from the founder Adi Dassler. Nor does Gap stand for Gay And Proud.
Power failure: PowerGen set up a subsidiary in Italy, complete with website, named PowerGen Italia. This fact was even confirmed by Jeremy Paxman on the BBC. The site exists. It belongs to an Italian company with no links with this country.
Finally, a nod to the patron saint of business urban myths, George Turklebaum. Or Turkelbaum. Or he may have been Henry. The workaholic if uncommunicative proof reader at a New York publishing house who got into the office before colleagues and left well after them. George, or was it Henry, sat, dead, for five days, surrounded by 23 colleagues, before somebody noticed. You may have read that the story was a myth. But I heard it from a reliable source, and he heard it from a friend who works in ...
http://entertainment.timesonline.co.uk/tol/business/industry_sectors/technology/article3739566.ece
The lads' magazine Loaded had to issue a grovelling apology to Heinz, the baked beans maker, this month. The magazine, as part of a piece called Pointless But True, had fallen for a persistent urban myth that Heinz once manufactured a special range of alphabet spaghetti for the German market during the Nazi years, consisting entirely of tiny pasta swastikas. In the process, the magazine had woken to the corporate nightmare that such legends can represent.
We all know urban myths - the dead granny on the roof rack who, unaccountably, disappears; the alligators released into the sewers that climb up the lavatory U-bend. Psychologists explain how they allow us to laugh at exaggerated versions of what might otherwise be real fears.
The late Norman Mailer coined the word factoid for a fact that, while entirely untrue, has been circulated so widely and is believed by so many that it might as well be true. A large number of prominent companies have attracted such myths, and they have spent years and millions trying to extirpate them.
The internet provided such myths with both a seedbed and a powerful source of fertiliser. One of the most pervasive concerns Procter & Gamble, the American detergents group that makes Tide. The company has pleaded for some decades that it has no links with Satanism, a belief that has to do with its original Man in the Moon logo. This dates back to 1851 and is claimed to contain a disguised 666. In addition, there are 13 stars. And if you look at them in a certain way... The rumours were kickstarted again by reports that the company's president had appeared on a television chatshow and revealed that P&G donated a proportion of its profits to the Church of Satan (he didn't). This is a quoted company on the New York Stock Exchange. As Snopes.com, the excellent American website that chronicles urban myths, puts it dryly: Were P&G handing any portion of its profits to Satan, that would be readily apparent in its financial statements.
There are plenty of other corporate myths. With grateful thanks to Snopes.com, here are some:
The car that didn't go: the Chevrolet Nova failed to sell in Spanish-speaking countries because it translates as doesn't go in Spanish. In reality, Novas had no problem selling south of the Rio Grande. Plus, as Snopes points out, Mexico's national petrol company sells fuel under the same name.
Teenage mutant Cabbage Patch Dolls: Coleco, the maker of these toys, was reputed to have sent official-looking death certificates to little kiddies who had the temerity to send damaged ones back for repair. Or, in another version, bills for the doll's funeral. Needless to say, it didn't.
Coca-Colonialisation: the soft drinks gets an entire page on Snopes. Yes, it did used to contain cocaine, but a long time ago. No, it is not owned by the Mormons. And no, it never outraged the Muslim world by plastering an ad over the Dome of the Rock in Jerusalem - even though the clearly Photoshopped evidence is often produced. However, the company was accused of being anti-Semitic during the anti-Israeli boycott by Arab nations.
Pizza the action: Domino's Pizza shelved its promise to deliver within 30 minutes or less after one of its vans ran over a child. Quite untrue, but the claim was dropped over concerns that the company might be seen to promote dangerous driving.
Named and shamed: adidas is not an acronym for All Day I Dream About Sex. It comes from the founder Adi Dassler. Nor does Gap stand for Gay And Proud.
Power failure: PowerGen set up a subsidiary in Italy, complete with website, named PowerGen Italia. This fact was even confirmed by Jeremy Paxman on the BBC. The site exists. It belongs to an Italian company with no links with this country.
Finally, a nod to the patron saint of business urban myths, George Turklebaum. Or Turkelbaum. Or he may have been Henry. The workaholic if uncommunicative proof reader at a New York publishing house who got into the office before colleagues and left well after them. George, or was it Henry, sat, dead, for five days, surrounded by 23 colleagues, before somebody noticed. You may have read that the story was a myth. But I heard it from a reliable source, and he heard it from a friend who works in ...
http://entertainment.timesonline.co.uk/tol/business/industry_sectors/technology/article3739566.ece
