I accidentally put both feet into the world of brandom when I bought a P.O.S. truck to tow my boat once a year. It is 23 years old, worth maybe a grand, and I don't trust it to go 40 feet without breaking down. And when it does break down, that is one repair that's exceptionally hard to authorize. This truck means less than nothing to me. It's a glorified crescent wrench.
"Oh, good! You got a Ford!" some guy will coo approvingly, fussing over the longevity of this particular Ford.
I glance at the logo on the side of the truck to make sure it's indeed a Ford. "Uh, yep."
And then he'll wax about how much Chevy and "rice-burner" trucks suck by comparison. Except he won't actually tell me why they suck. Just that they do. Because this is important. To him. Because he roots for brands the way you and I root for sports teams.
It works the other way, too. I own four Windows machines, a PS3, an X-Box 360, and two Apple products: an iPhone and iPad. I am routinely derided as an Apple fanboy. "Um, there wasn't even a competing product when I bought those. Still isn't for the iPad. Am I supposed to throw them out?"
"The iPad is so stupid. It doesn't even support Flash or USB," they'll always reply.
"You'd be surprised how seldom that comes up. Like, never. But if it ever does, I have no shortage of devices I can use."
"You shouldn't have to. It's useless," they sniff, basking in their expertise on matters they know nothing about.
In one way, this is nothing new to me. I work at Microsoft, where the Zune is still hailed as a superior alternative to that ridiculous piece of crap that is the iPod. But that's almost understandable. Microsoft values us, and for that to be worth anything whatsoever to our self-esteem, Microsoft cannot be this mistaken. That, I get. I mock, but I get.
Perhaps I'm just increasingly aware of it, but it seems that people in general are increasingly becoming emotionally invested in corporate brands. Ford over Chevy. Nike over Reebok. Coke over Pepsi. Krispy Kreme over everything. Everything over iPhone. Something that doesn't exist yet over iPad. DNC over GOP. Vice-versa.
Receiving validation from my brand choice, or being invalidated by yours, strikes me as an extension of my elementary-school bus stop, where we ruthlessly assessed one another's possessions and their implications for our character. It's rather unbecoming of adults. As a rule of thumb, I humbly submit that it's mentally healthier, not to mention cheaper, to value things that aren't advertised.