Yesterday Gizmodo got a hold of an Apple Store Genius Training Manual. They read it cover to cover and exposed its shocking techniques, like politeness and empathy. Today they announced they have found a leaked copy of a DiGiorno Pizza Training manual.
Sam Biddle Reports:
You may have seen the outrageous DiGiorno advertising that has been permeating televisions for years, claiming that their pizza is as good as any delivery place, even implying that a tiny nerdy kid could be invited into what appears to be a generic rap star’s slammin’ party. You would think DiGiorno knows better, right? You bet they do: DiGiorno knows exactly what it’s doing with our emotions. How do I know? I read DiGiorno’s secret training manual from cover to cover.
It’s a penetrating look inside DiGiorno: psychological mastery, banned words, role playing — you’ve never seen anything like it. THE HORROR!
The training manual I mysteriously ended up with is apparently the most up-to-date and runs a bizarre gamut of DiGiorno do’s and don’ts, even mentioning words that employees shouldn’t use like “fucking asshole” and lessons on how to capitalize on human emotions, like love of food.
You would think that a company that makes a product like DiGiorno’s would be interested in sales. But alas, it is not. Instead, DiGiorno is all about making its customers feel like they’ve gotten a pizza delivered to them, even though they literally just put the thing in the oven, set the temperature, waited the appropriate amount of time, then pulled the piping hot pizza from its baking apparatus. The assumption, it seems, is that a customer that believes he or she is eating a delivered pizza is a customer that will buy more frozen pizzas.
Bootcamp for Pizza Makers
Before an employee can manufacture the frozen pizza masterpieces that come out of the DiGiorno factories, they must undergo a rigorously regimented routine of round dough rolling, pass programs like pizza pie poetry, and for two weeks they’ll be expected to read, write, and speak English at a 6th grade level.
No need to mince words: this is psychological training. No doubt cooking a DiGiorno pizza is on another echelon compared to other frozen pizzas; the dough is bar none the spongiest and delicious of any national frozen pizza brand. A fundamental part of DiGiorno’s product is to make you truly believe that you’ve ordered delivery, but you didn’t, did you? You’re not talking to a Domino’s delivery guy. You’re in your kitchen, with the oven on, and DiGiorno’s marketing is just a means to the grocery store frozen section, where you’ll buy another DiGiorno pizza.
The manual even reminds us that: “every pizza made at DiGiorno is in the business of getting people to buy another pizza.” Period.
Better than Delivery
At DiGiorno everything is geared toward that delivery experience, except there’s no guy that brings a piping hot, freshly made pizza to your door that’s never been frozen and was made just a few minutes before he got there. Instead, the delivery experience at DiGiorno starts when employees enter the factory and begin, get ready for it, producing frozen pizzas.
Now, you may not even realize it’s happening, but when a friend comes over, you’re already under the DiGiorno “3-D Trance”. Invariably your friend will say, “Pizza, nice, who delivered?” And in all your snarky, manipulated glory, as DiGiorno intended, you’ll reply, “It’s not delivery, it’s DiGiorno.”
The maneuver is brilliant. The pizza has switched places with the customer. Now, it’s the pizza that is doing the buying and the customer can’t sell enough of it. These scenarios litter the entire middle of this Schindler’s List of a document.
Don’t say it, okay?
The sinner’s manuscript even contains words that will never be found on a DiGiorno product. Words like “frozen” or “delicious” or “worth the time it takes to bake when you could have just called Pizza Hut and gone about your day as they do all the work”. It’s really just DiGiorno flexing its ability to do judo on your insecure, emotionally vacant self. You see, what DiGiorno doesn’t want you to know is that its pizzas are frozen. I’ll wait for you to catch your breath.
In fact, if an employee that happens to be near you in the grocery hears you call a DiGiorno pizza “frozen” they are instructed in the manual to politely approach you and suggest, “our pizzas are not frozen, they’re mostly chilly to start and delivered hot.”
There’s so much more to this breaking news, I can barely contain myself, but alas, I need to eat. I’ve already preheated my oven so all I have to do is pop in my off-brand frozen pizza and pretend to love it while bashing the best product in the sector.
Biddle, out. [Mimes mic-dropping. Commenters enthusiastically clap for each other by accident.]