The Fiji Brand

One of the great pleasures of reading The Economist is a regular graze through the ads for employment and other opportunities. A few years back, there was a most excellent Excellency one for secretary to H.R.M. Queen Elizabeth.  We did not apply. (But we did post about it.)

The latest one to catch my attention solicits “expressions of interest for the development and operation of [Fiji’s] first casino.”

Only reputable and successful full-casino developers/operators need apply.  They want folks “who would enhance Fiji’s brand.”

I was going to say that baby needs a new pair of shoes, but then I noticed that the dudes in the Fijian coat of arms appear to be barefoot. So it’s not baby that needs a new pair of shoes, but Fiji that feels it needs more of a lure than what I imagine is the standard tropical paradise value proposition: get away from it all to a place with white sandy beaches, aquamarine waters, catamarans, fried conch, shlooshy rum and pineapple drinks with parasols, thatched luxury hotel “huts” on stilts over aquamarine water, bougainvillea, sarongs.  I’m making this up, of course, as not only have I never been to Fiji, I’ve never even seen the travel brochure.

In truth, to me the Fiji brand is a keg party at a Fiji (Phi Gamma Delta) frat house, featuring drunken frat boys in wigs and grass skirts (and maybe even coconut bras), and lots of before-during-and-after vomit. I’m making this up, too. I went to an all women’s college, and if we’d taken a vote, I suspect I would have won the prize for “Least Likely to Go To a Frat Party.” While I did, of course, see Animal House, I am not now, never have been, and never will be the sweetheart of Sigma Chi and/or Fiji.

Then there’s Fiji Water. Nice bottle and all, but why would I want to pay good money for water when I can turn on my tap and get pure, if not Fiji natural artesian, water from good old Quabbin water. Which I can quaff from a brilliantly reusable aluminum Sigg bottle.

Ah, Fiji. (Ah, Fiji brand.)

If I were to go in for a tropical paradise kind of vacation, which admittedly sounds pretty good about the time the first slush storm hits, I don’t know if the first tropical paradise I’d think of would be Fiji.

In truth, it would probably be Tahiti, another place I know nothing about, other than what I learned from Mutiny on the Bounty.  Oh, and I know that Marlon Brando (a.k.a. Fletcher Christian) had a Tahitian  wife.

So, if I were going to consider being a two-week stranger in Paradise, Tahiti is first of mind.

Just what is the Fiji brand?

Is it a de luxe playground of the rich and famous, or the South Seas equivalent of Puerta Vallarta? (Which may be a perfectly nice Mexican resort. It’s just that, to me, it’s forever cheesy, because the winners on the Love Connection or the Newlywed Game or the Dating Game or some other cheese-ball show used to win weekend getaway trips there.)

The government of Fiji wants what’s best for their “brand.”  This is understandable. Who wants to do something that damages their brand?

But what does “casino” say about anyone’s brand?

The things that I associate with the word casino are: “get rich quick” fantasy schemes (magical state government thinking),organized crime, boxing matches, chain smoking pensioners with rolls of quarters, card counters, free drinks, James Bond, croupiers, no clocks, nickel slots, and red and black.  Most of which aren’t associated with an upscale or in anyway attractive brand. (Other than James Bond and croupiers, I guess.)

Maybe Fiji has no choice.

I just googled “tahiti casino” and, apparently, that slice of tropical paradise has gambling.

Not my idea of a paradise, but sometimes you have to keep up with the competition. Looks like “casino” has become a check-list item.