Hook: The Problem With That Beaver Stadium Allstate Commercial

My very kind and generous wife likes to tell me that I have high moral standards. That I’m not one to “play the game.” Her interpretation of that phrase being I won’t follow expected conventions or unwritten customs simply in order to succeed. 

Which may be one of the reasons I don’t get along well in large organizations. Managing unwanted relationships, being phonily diplomatic, purposely avoiding conflict, adhering to misguided corporate cultures, and strategically using the unwritten incentives and rules of an environment to achieve my own goals are not my cup of tea, as it were.

However, as much as I appreciate this praise from my wife, I am far from the moral high ground on everything. For example, from a different set of circumstances back in my early days at Penn State, I wasn’t above wanting better student seats at Penn State football games. And might not have held the moral high ground to get them.

In the late 1970s student seats at Penn State football games were segregated by class – first years (freshmen) in one section, sophomores in another, juniors in another, and seniors and grad students in a fourth. The first two years you were in end zone seats. Then you started moving down the sideline to better seats your junior and senior year.

But the student tickets in those days were printed by what were known as dot-matrix printers, which used small dots of ink from a ribbon to create letters. All the student tickets were the same size, shape and color, with the exception of two large printed letters – FR for freshman, SO for sophomores, JR for juniors and SR for seniors (I was never a grad student so don’t know how those were designated – probably GR!).

Those large letters were, as I said, created by a series of small ink dots. Which, some of us discovered, were easily manipulated. Using an X-ACTO knife, a magnifying lamp and Rapidograph pens (thank you Uncle Eli’s!), it was fairly simple to change the “F” on a freshman ticket into an “S”. And just like that you were sitting in the senior section! Similarly, the “O” on the sophomore ticket became an “R” so any slightly older dorm buddies could also sit in the senior section.

Since the student seating was not assigned, and there were many bad weather games in those days that didn’t feature full houses in Beaver Stadium, I always rationalized that we weren’t hurting anyone else by doing this. No students got turned away – there were always plenty of seats. 

In other words, I was OK with getting better football seats that required a little nick in the moral armor to facilitate, but not getting the answers to a test in advance that might skew a grading curve and hurt someone else.

Such is morality. 

But watching Penn State football on TV this season has opened up a new moral issue for me with regards to Penn State. I’m pretty sure it involves money – follow the money, right? – but it has me further questioning who is making decisions at the University.

A year or two ago, Allstate insurance started a series of commercials that are referred to in the industry as the “Check First” ads. In the ads, a college football fan – of a specific university – proudly notes that they checked Allstate first for car insurance and saved hundreds of dollars, but then goes on to describe a mistake they made that turned out badly, which wouldn’t have happened had they “checked first.”

The first ad I saw in this series was a University of Texas fan, whose mistake was to take a selfie with Bevo, the Texas Longhorn steer mascot, but failing to check that Bevo’s gate is latched. The gate then opens and Bevo escapes, and wanders through the stadium causing some panic.

My first reaction to the commercial was, “Who at the University of Texas approved this ad?!” Because UT was prominently displayed in the ad in a way that made me think UT must have signed-off on it, otherwise Allstate would be looking at a lawsuit. And the depiction of the fan left little doubt that they were lacking common sense. A depiction that, having spent plenty of time in Austin, seemed wildly at odds with the image UT would want to show.

Let’s just say I was confused by the ad. And not in a good way.

Then I saw another ad in the series. This one depicted a University of Michigan fan taking cotton candy from a boy who happens to be seated next to Wolverine great Charles Woodson, and the whole scene is shown on the jumbotron in the stadium. The fan’s ending dialogue is, “Checking Allstate first was really smart. Not checking the jumbotron, not smart.” In other words, it would have been OK to take the kid’s candy if he hadn’t been caught.

Again, I was perplexed and unhappy with the message. Again, it was a depiction of Michigan via a fan in a way that felt like it flew in the face of the image Michigan would want to show. Granted, I’m generally not a fan of Michigan, and I’ll admit to a bit of schadenfreude in thinking, “Ha ha, look what Michigan did to themselves!” But still, is this what is selling car insurance these days? But, I was at least grateful Penn State would never stoop so low. 

Except, as any true Penn State fan who has watched a Nittany Lion football game on TV this season knows, now there is an Allstate commercial featuring Penn State and one of our “fans.” The ad shows a Penn State fan calling out of work sick so she can go to the White Out game. Unfortunately for the fan, she posts on social media from the game, her boss sees it, and calls her during the game to see how she’s feeling. Her dialogue is, “Checking Allstate first was a smart move. Not checking if my boss Jeff followed me…”

When this ad first hit the airwaves, it was met with an instantaneous response. Though, not about the possible negative image of Penn Staters – it’s OK to call in sick to go to a White Out – but because everyone knew it would never happen. Why? Cell service and Wi-Fi coverage are so bad in the stadium it would be impossible for anyone to make a social media post, let alone get a phone call. One Penn State senior even wrote a very humorous spin on just that subject on this website’s sister publication here. 

So, here I am with my moral dilemma. I just don’t think that a fan lying to her boss depicts Penn State or Penn Staters in a positive fashion. And I don’t like seeing it. 

Now, maybe I need to get more with the popular zeitgeist of this day and age. I mean, many workplaces don’t even have “sick days” anymore, it’s all just PTO – paid time off. And if you take it for a White Out, that’s a perfectly acceptable use. Except the commercial only works if the “fan” is lying and using sick time for the day off, or else why would the boss care?

So, as I said, who is making the decisions to allow this commercial to be broadcast? It seems if I follow the money it would be that it’s just another way for Penn State to increase revenue. And that there’s no such thing as bad publicity – assuming people even think this is bad. Which, given that the commercial is still airing as of last weekend, it must be OK.

But I still don’t like it. Me and my moral high ground. 

Oh well, I guess I’ll just go gather some of my boomer friends and yell at a few clouds while keeping people off my lawn. However, I definitely won’t check first.