Chocolate Rabbits

Samuel Schweizer was leading his team’s first meeting of the year. He was a small, squat sixty-nine year old, with a rotund belly, florid complexion and balding head. He wore a navy two piece suit, with the trousers held in place by bright red braces, and a midnight blue silk tie. He was clean shaven and immaculately manicured, and finished his outfits with a gold tie pin and matching cuff links. If you got close enough to him, you would catch a waft of lemony aftershave. Everything about him intimated opulence and good taste. He started working on the factory floor at Oberle’s, fine chocolatiers, when he left school over fifty years ago. He had worked his way up through the ranks, until he reached his current position: Head of Forward Planning. He secretly wished that, when he reached the stage of Master Chocolatier, he had halted his ascending career. This was when he had been happiest, and he now believed that, he should have invested in premises, and developed his own range of confectionary. But the financial demands of a young family propelled him ever upwards, to achieve increasingly higher rates of remuneration. Now, they were all long gone, his children had left home and had their own lives, and nearly two years ago, his beloved wife, Jana, had passed away. He wondered if he should have concentrated on less material aspects of his life.

           The team sat around an oval, highly polished wood table. In the centre was a bowl of fruit, a tray holding a selection of Oberle’s products, and a glass jug of water. In one corner of the room a coffee machine dripped and burbled contentedly to itself. One wall consisted entirely of glass, and as the room was on the fifth floor, it allowed the occupants an aerial view of Zurich. Being January, the scene was cold and grey with a faint mist lingering over the river. Inside, it was comfortably warm, and the team sat with coffee cups and water glasses beside them. They each had laptops, open and ready to record any details, which were pertinent to their individual departments. Samuel was the only person who did not have a laptop with him. Instead, Jacques, a French intern sat beside him, acting as his personal assistant. A lean young man, with blonde flopping hair, who looked uncomfortable and bony in his new suit. He was earnest and keen, but had a lot to learn.

           Although early January, the purpose of the meeting was to discuss what Easter products would be produced and subsequently marketed. Not for this year, these goods were for the most part already manufactured and in storage, awaiting shipment to retail outlets. No, today, the team would be talking about next year’s products. They had exchanged pleasantries, and now Samuel wanted to get down to essential business. His elbows rested on the table before him, the fingertips on either hand were touching each other making a steeple in front of him. He peered over his fingertips, down and around the table, as he asked.  

           ‘So, ladies and gentlemen, do we have any ideas what is likely to sell next year?’ Mia Roth, head of packaging, predictably suggested ‘Golden bunnies’. This had been Oberle’s standard Easter merchandise for several years, and life would be easier for Mia if previous years were repeated. The production lines for this packaging were all set up, and were tried and tested. No unforeseen problems to be overcome or last minute hitches to be dealt with.

           ‘Ah, chocolate replicas of adult sex toys, appealing to the grown up market. Excellent idea, Mia.’ It was a spur of the moment joke from Samuel, perhaps surfacing from his bored subconscious. The team chuckled, and Noah, head of mouldings, playfully retorted.

           ‘Some of the protuberances might be a little difficult to achieve.’

           ‘They don’t all have those.’ This came from Jana, artistic designer for packaging. ‘Ah, I see we have an expert’ Samuel laughingly commented. There was a frantic tapping of keys, as the team speedily searched for images of ‘rabbits’ on their laptops. Samuel mentally made a note that, if in the future any of his team were reprimanded for using the company’s equipment to access inappropriate websites, during working time, he would need to take responsibility.

           ‘Would we make a range of sizes? I can’t see anyone buying the small.’ Noah’s mind was clearly working overtime. But not everyone was amused. Suddenly, there was a whooshing sound as Frau Girtman, pushed her chair rapidly back across the carpet, and she stood up. She had been employed by Oberle’s for nearly as long as Samuel and her role was ‘Decoration Manager’. The post was created at a time when eggs were decorated with pastel coloured icing flowers and butterflies, filled with chocolates, and wrapped in cellophane, tied at the top with swirling ribbon. In these days of mass produced plastic and cardboard packaging, there was little call for her expertise. She was a thin woman, whose sharp, angular features, were accentuated by her short, severe hairstyle. In winter, she habitually wore flat lace-up shoes, thick brown tights, calf length, tartan pleated skirts, and thin, knitted murky coloured jumpers. An aura of mothballs lingered about her person.

           ‘I will not sit and listen to this filth. Such a product would not be in keeping with Oberle’s fine reputation!’ She angrily shot at the room, as she left, banging the door behind her. ‘Oh dear.’ Samuel thought. ‘I’ll have to go round to her office later, and apologise for our offensive humour.’ In the room, there was a few seconds awkward silence, before Tobias, a six foot, black South African, in charge of flavourings, innocently asked.

           ‘And would there be a slightly larger, deluxe version made from our dark 70% cocoa solids chocolate?’

           ‘We could package them in plain black, fully enclosed boxes, with pink diagonal stripes across the top and bottom corners, and call it our ‘For adults only’ range.’ Was Jana’s idea.

           ‘There’d have to be mini cream filled ones.’ This was Julian, the costings manager’s contribution. It was a long time since Samuel had seen his team so animated, and enjoying themselves like this, but he knew that things could easily go too far.

           ‘Now, now children. Try to curb your enthusiasm, and get back to thinking about more traditional merchandise.’ Reluctantly, the team returned their thoughts to the usual mundane suggestions, such as chicks, lambs, and plain old eggs. As Samuel sat there, he realised that, when he returned to his office, he would need to send out an email. It would thank his team for their innovative ideas, but on reflection, he had decided that, the only ‘bunnies’, which would be produced, would be the usual golden ones. However, a few hours later, as the team filed out of the meeting room, heading back to their respective offices, Samuel appeared to stumble, and fall to the ground. Jacques, following closely in his wake, immediately knelt beside him and discerned that, something more serious than a trip and tumble to the ground had happened. An ambulance was called, and Samuel was rapidly transported to hospital, where he was pronounced ‘dead on arrival’. He had suffered a massive heart attack.    

           The entire staff of Oberle’s Zurich operation was shocked. Samuel had been an institution, and whilst not everyone had spoken to him, each person could recall seeing the small, suited man walking around. He had been there for so long that, he understood every aspect of commercial chocolate production. Many of the senior managers attended his funeral. A minute’s silence was held at the company’s premises, and the organisation made a generous donation to an international charity, as requested in his will. Frau Girtman took Samuel’s death as a warning sign, and retired shortly afterwards.

           However, the wheels of commerce are never still, and the production of luxury chocolate goods continued. Tobias was temporarily appointed Acting Head of Planning, and further team meetings were held. Without Samuel’s restraining influence, the team continued to fine tune their ideas for production of the ‘For Adults Only’ range. They eventually decided to pilot the range the following Easter, initially producing a limited number of the darker, luxury rabbits, as first suggested by Tobias. If these sold well, seasonal variations would follow. ‘Naughty Santa’ was one idea for Christmas merchandise, but it was unclear what exactly this would entail.

           Moulds were made, packaging designed, boxes printed, and finally rabbits went into production. There was a great deal of mirth amongst the factory operatives when they first saw what they were making. Several thousands of the luxury confections were made and put into storage. All this time, Oberle’s Directors remained unaware of their new product. For years they had trusted Samuel’s experience and expertise, and it did not occur to them to check the activities of the current Forward Planning Team. The crunch came in the September following Samuel’s death. It was now time for the Sales Team to go out to large national retailers, demonstrate Oberle’s latest lines, and generate orders.

           The sales director was called Leon Keller. He was young, charming and dynamic – just as you would expect a high achieving salesman to be. Before new sales pitches began, he and his team would sit round together, look at the latest products and decide what selling points they would need to emphasise to maximise their uptake. The sales managers would then pass these themes down to their teams, who would subsequently go out on the road, with samples and an accepted company script for the new items. They were a lively raucous group. Some lolled sideways in their chairs, their legs suspended over the arms, one had his feet on the table, and one woman perched on the table’s edge. They were restless, filled with unspent energy, often leaving the table to visit the coffee machine, or stand at the window.  White chocolate lambs, solid milk chocolate chicks, the usual eggs, and a red spattered ‘strawberries and cream’ variety of egg, had already been discussed. Finally Leon came to the ‘Rabbit.’ He had not previously opened the box, expecting only some form of fancy dark chocolate bunny. However, when he took off the predominately black lid, revealing a gleaming, ten inch, dark brown, phallic symbol, nestling in a bed of ruffled pink satin, he dropped the entire thing in surprise. The box landed on the table, the impact dislodging the film covered Rabbit, which rolled innocuously across the shiny surface into the centre of the assembled meeting. The sales team erupted into guffaws of laughter, and comments along the lines of.

           ‘What’s up Leon? Never seen one that big before?’ and ‘What’s happened to its ears?’ were made. The team did not consider whether the company directors were aware of this latest Easter product. Why should they? It had never been an issue before. When their initial hilarity subsided, they commenced working on a slogan. Several frivolous suggestions were made:

           ‘Bet you can’t manage it all at once.’ And ‘So smooth, it slips down easy.’ Were two of the discarded ideas. Eventually they settled on ‘Exclusively and exquisitely for maturity.’ They decided to market the Rabbit as being made of the finest chocolate, in sophisticated packaging, to be enjoyed by the adults, once the children were in bed.

           The sales teams hit the road, but take up of the new product was slow. The big supermarket chains were cautious; they could not envisage that, customers doing their weekly shop would put such a thing into their trolley. Leon decided to take drastic action; he ordered that several hundred of the Rabbits were to be delivered free, to the head offices of leading womens’ magazines. The staff loved them! Similar confections had been made from cheap chocolate in tacky packaging, but here was a quality item, tastefully and discreetly displayed. Several of them ran articles enthusing about the Rabbit. Internet sales took off, and the benefit of this for Oberle's was that, there was no middle man, so profits were maximised.

           And still Oberle’s Directors remained oblivious as to the exact nature of their latest product. It was not until the following June, when the Managing Director, Frau Jaggi was attending an international trades convention that enlightment dawned. A Japanese envoy was congratulating her on Oberle’s record annual profits. He commented.

           ‘Of course, branching out into the adult market with the rabbit was an inspirational idea.’ Frau Jaggi replied. ‘Thank you, but our Easter bunnies have been around for several years.’ ‘Ah yes, the childrens’ bunnies, but not the adult rabbits.’ Frau Jaggi was bemused by this comment, but thought that it was due to the vagaries of translation from one language to another. That is until the next day, when she looked on her company’s webpage, and saw ‘The Rabbit.’ She was enraged to see the offensive item on her website. Oberle’s was a family business, with a reputation to maintain. She embarked upon tracing the person responsible for the unsuitable product. The trail led back to Samuel, and dead man cannot be punished. She was surprised and shocked. Of course, she had no way of knowing that, the product started with a jokey quip from the deceased Head of Forward Planning.