• by David Goetzl  @dgoetzl, February 14, 2007

Donald Trump's hubris seems to have led to some quixotic decisions over the years: buying the Delta Shuttle, owning the New Jersey Generals, launching Trump University. But the same can't be said about a recent brand integration, on what has proven to be one of Trump's shrewder gambits: "The Apprentice."

Even though it was for fast-food chain El Pollo Loco, it was far from crazy. In fact, unlike Trump U. going against Harvard, the marketer had a carefully planned, achievable goal for its role in the Jan. 28 episode. And it was one of the top product placements of the week, according to measurement firm iTVX. The 37-year-old chain specializing in grilled chicken has long been associated with its California base, much like In-N-Out, the burger chain that has a cult-like following. West Coast transplants are so enamored of the chain, they are begging it to come East. But for In-N-Out, anywhere east of Phoenix is a no-go. Not the case for L Po-yo Lo-co.

El Pollo is on a mission; it's willing to take its grilled chicken as far from the Golden State as needed to find green. Not surprisingly, ELP is owned by a New York private-equity firm; In-N-Out is very privately held.

So goodbye sunshine and hello Windy City. The 350-unit chain came to Chicago two years ago, and recently struck an agreement to open 61 outposts in states such as Georgia, Virginia and Missouri.

Such expansion is at the core of why ELP hooked up with "The Apprentice," which this season is set in ELP's SoCal home base. ELP felt the show provided a solid platform to both cement its popularity among its base and introduce itself coast-to-coast.

How calculating was ELP in pursuing its goal? It turned the reality show into wreality, or written reality, where a marketer gets to insert favorable dialogue into the script.

Witness this exchange early in the episode:

Trump to CEO Steve Carley: "So how's business?"

Carley whacks softball: "Business has been terrific! And not only are we doing well in California, but we're expanding across the country."

Trump touches home plate for him: "That's what I hear. Good."

In the back of the textbook for Television 101 (Is that offered at Trump U.?), the glossary lists "reach" and defines it as the use of TV, often network, to convey a message to as many people as possible.

Now, if a wager were placed in one of Trump's oft-embattled casinos, the smart money would be on the current season of "The Apprentice"--a show that was once a phenomenon that benefited Trump handsomely--being its last.

Ratings and viewership continue to decline, and the show doesn't even trump NBC's likely-to-be-canceled "Studio 60"--although Trump does have some hefty time-period competitors in "Desperate Housewives" and "Cold Case."

Still, the show delivers some 8.2 million viewers a week. If each person spent $5 at an ELP, that's a cool $41 million. And since it goes nationwide, that's in line with ELP's reach strategy: "to fuel brand awareness in new areas of the country where we are expanding," a company spokeswoman said.

Even if the initiative failed, ELP surely didn't pay nearly what others did for a brand integration on an earlier season of the one-time smash. A sure sign: ELP says "Apprentice" producers approached it about signing on.

Did it sell any chicken combos?

Doubtful.

ELP made at least one mistake: Giving Carley the spotlight.

While "The Apprentice" calls for company executives to join Trump in issuing a challenge to contestants, Carley became the first in six seasons to actually present the task himself, according to ELP.

But he seemed too muted, too scripted and a little cowed by Trump. (Maybe, he should have powwowed with Rosie beforehand). It was also bad form for ELP's chief marketing officer Karen Eadon to appear with him. Was it a reward for making the deal with NBC? Since she didn't say a word, her appearance seemed superfluous.

Another negative: As the teams were tasked with creating and selling a new version of ELP's Pollo Bowl, one group came up with a product that didn't seem very appetizing, but had a great moniker. The other devised a dish that had a banal name, but seemed much more savory. Either way, something's missing.

For this purpose, call it Teams A and B. "A" came up with a "Paradise Pollo Bowl"--an appealing name--but mixing mango pineapple with the signature grilled chicken seems questionable. "B" offered up the "Chicken Tortilla Bowl"--hardly an innovative moniker for a fast-food product, and ELP already has a "Chicken Caesar Bowl"--but it did look like an appetizing lunch.

However, even if the appearance on "The Apprentice" didn't send people rushing to ELP, it may have had a side benefit: a jump in job applicants. At a time when some are criticizing Nationwide's portrayal of fast-food workers in its Super Bowl spot featuring Kevin Federline, the show made ELP seem like an attractive place to work. In the many close-ups, the restaurants looked immaculate and the food enticing, save the mango pineapple. Even so, ELP came off as a kitchen with an exciting mix of ingredients for employees.

To top it off, the accomplished "Apprentice" contestants appeared to genuinely have fun selling their creations on the street and at the counter. And the uniforms they wore had a sort of California-cool, almost like Hawaiian shirts with the ELP logo. They even wore them into the show's famed "Board Room" and kept the hats on until Trump asked them to take it off.

Trump will only hire one contestant at the end of the show, but ELP may find some would-be apprentices heading its way.