The Ballad of Bad Merch

The damage to a brand can be irrevocable.

It's been over a month since the last Promocations event in Los Cabos, Mexico, and I'm still on a high as that first land-based event was nothing short of phenomenal. The resort was top-notch, the networking was on point, and, most importantly, the group of suppliers and distributors that joined us forged unbreakable bonds over those five days.

As a reward for a successful event, my business partner, Josh Robbins, and our wives stayed after our guests left to enjoy a little rest and relaxation. Being in Los Cabos at a beautiful resort, we did things one might expect: lounge around the pool, go off campus for a dinner at Flora's Farm, and breathe a bit. While all of that was fine and dandy, there was one activity I had been looking forward to for 35 years: a visit to the world-famous Cabo Wabo.

For those of you not in the know, Cabo Wabo was founded in 1990 by Sammy Hagar, who was, at the time, the lead singer for the mighty Van Halen. In fact, the other members of the band were also partners until Hagar bought them out in 1994. At the time the bar opened, Cabo San Lucas was, indeed, a "sleepy little town," but over time, it has tripled in size, and the city has been built around the club. For fans of Sammy Hagar and Van Halen, the Cabo Wabo has been a rite of passage, if not a full-blown pilgrimage.

As the four of us dined in the Cabo San Lucas marina before walking to Cabo Wabo, I proudly proclaimed, "Now I understand how Catholics must feel before entering the Vatican." I was joking, sort of. In other words, I couldn't wolf down my food fast enough to get to my Metal Mecca.

After a brisk ten-minute walk, there it was in all its glory. I took a few obligatory pictures and headed straight into the merch shop. Of course, I knew everything would be grossly overpriced, but I felt a duty to make a few purchases. Quick aside, when I say "a few purchases," I mean dropping about $400.00 on several shirts, a sweatshirt, a hat, and a can cooler. To be clear, some of the merch was for Sandy and our boys, but most of it was for me.

After setting my credit card ablaze, we stepped into the cantina to have a drink or two. Honestly, I was in heaven: Van Halen pictures and memorabilia everywhere, 80s metal playing over the speakers, and the stage where many of my musical heroes have played. Yes, it was smaller than I expected and basically a tacky metal version of TGI Fridays, but I was at the Cabo Wabo!

We ordered drinks (I had a Waborita) and, predictably, they were sub-optimal. Honestly, I was okay with that because the cantina has, for the most part, become a place for gringo tourists like me. As such, the high cost and low-rent quality of the drinks didn't bother me one little bit. The second round of drinks wasn't any better, so I took a last look around and we left to head back to Los Cabos.

Sounds like a perfect little trip, doesn't it? Well, it was until I got back home a few days later and I started to (proudly) inspect the merch I had bought. Outside the hat, which was a Richardson 112, and the can cooler, every product was shockingly shitty:

• The one-color imprint on the red Cabo Wabo shirt is about ½ inch left of center – just enough to always be noticeable.

• The white T-shirts for my kids were made of the type of see-through material that many of us who attended concerts in 1986 remember less than fondly.

• Every shirt was as itchy as rolling around in poison ivy for 55 minutes.

• I wear a large size and most things are roomy to well-fitting. The "large" red T-shirt is actually more of a "smedium" – especially after washing, when I attempted to quell the itchiness.

As you might guess, the worst part is that the T-shirts cost $45.00 each and, judging by the quality, they each cost about $1.25 net. You might ask, "Bill, you've been in the industry since Eli Whitney invented the cotton gin; why didn't you inspect the quality of the apparel before plunking down your Visa?" It's a fair question, and I have an easy answer: I was too damn excited and, more importantly, I trusted the brand.

If you've been in the branded merchandise industry for longer than it takes to watch the "I Can't Drive 55" video, you know that by spending a few dollars more, the quality of merch cranked up to 11. I suppose that's what was so damn disappointing: the profit margin for merch sold at the Cabo Wabo is ridiculously off the charts, and Sammy knows that fans will gladly pay for it. I don't fault him for making money – he's a businessman and very good at it. However, as a lifelong fan of his, I feel completely taken advantage of, and it's left a terrible taste in my mouth.

Will I stop listening to "Eagles Fly" or "5150?" No, not by a long shot. However, I have no desire ever to go back to Cabo Wabo, nor will I ever purchase any merchandise from the place online. Even more, it's made me look at the entire brand – including Sammy Hagar – differently and permanently. People, like me, buy merch because the brand means something to them. After this experience, the Cabo Wabo brand does, indeed, mean something to me: overly sweet drinks that tasted like diabetes and cheap, overpriced merch to take advantage of blindly loyal people like me.

However, there is a great lesson to take from my experience: next time your client wants to cut corners on the merch and you know the lack of quality will be something that's clearly apparent to the ultimate end user, do them a favor and advise them of the long-term negative impact of shitty merchandise. Not doing so makes you just as culpable for the irrevocable damage to the brand.