A lifetime in every tick that created ultimate brand loyalty

What draws us to a product? Is it design, prestige, price or something deeper and far more human? In a world captivated by new releases, instant gratification and disposable goods, I’d argue that “true value” lies not in the item itself, but in its remarkable ability to deliver on its promise and travel with us through life, accumulating not depreciation but a sense of profound devotion.

I learned this at 17, courtesy of a Japanese diver watch that cost me every penny of my first paycheck. Back then, I wasn’t thinking about “brand loyalty,” “craftsmanship” or “product strategy”; I was thinking about how unbelievably “cool” that Seiko “Turtle” diver watch looked on my childhood friend’s wrist.

He had moved to the Philippines and had bought the watch while visiting Singapore; it just looked amazing. I became singularly obsessed with the idea of owning one, and destiny, as it often does for those young, foolish and determined, opened a door and delivered a summer job at the defunct newspaper The San Juan Star, my first $86 paycheck and the mission of a lifetime.

I transformed from teenager to hunter. Plaza Las Américas, the ultimate shopping mecca, became my Serengeti. Store by store, with the heartbeat rising and waning hope, it seemed my hunt would be fruitless. Seeing my developing frustration, a compassionate clerk whispered a clue with a smile: Try the stores at Old San Juan.

Under a harsh sun, a ticking clock and dwindling morale, I went from store to store until, just like a Hollywood script, on the final stop just before closing time, the watch materialized. Price tag: $84 and change. I handed over my wad of cash like a man sealing a sacred pact, with exactly $1 and change to last me until the next payroll. The Holy Grail was at hand.

Coming home, my father thought it was the most irresponsible thing I had ever done. Maybe it was, and he was right as always. But now I know it was also the most defining decision that I had ever made and my first lesson in the concept of brand loyalty and spending my paycheck.

What I couldn’t have known then was that I wasn’t just buying a watch. I was buying a “lifetime” timekeeper. That Seiko diver strapped itself not just onto my wrist but onto my story. It survived girlfriends and breakups, colleges and careers, triumphs and tragedies. It traveled to more than a dozen countries and witnessed beaches, deserts, boardrooms, snowstorms, poverty, prosperity, long hair, no hair, weddings, divorces, good bosses, bad bosses and miracles.

It also became the reason I routinely visited a dear childhood friend who had turned jeweler and horologist and who was quietly losing his battle with life. Every year, he would polish and service it, and in the very long meantime, we would talk about life, memories, funny stories and the dreams shared in our youth. He’s gone now, but his fingerprints remain in the watch, his words and stories in my memories and his friendship and brotherhood in my heart.

At some point and without realization, the Seiko diver watch ceased being a product. It became a “time capsule.” Every scratch told a tale. Every winding, a revival of memory. It taught me the first lesson in craftsmanship, quality and “brand loyalty.” In Seiko’s case, a great product doesn’t just tell the time; it tells “your time.”

And herein lies the secret and lesson: when a brand crafts something capable of lasting not just years but decades, it transcends the transactional instant gratification we are so used to. It earns loyalty in the purest, most emotional sense. The product and the brand become an integral part of yourself and a reflection of who you are as you go through life.

Anyone can launch an eye-catching item. Only a few can create products that become woven into someone’s biography. Great products don’t beg for attention; they become invisible extensions of who we are.

They earn the privilege of being “passed down” and not discarded. And that is how brand loyalty is born, not through marketing but through meaning. What I would later learn in business school as the ultimate “feature-benefit link.”

So, back to my story. What’s in a watch? A well-made watch is cold metal, gears and glass, until it becomes your companion in life’s adventures, silent witness to your evolution and guardian of your memories.

My “turtle,” just like the animal it is named after, is enjoying a lengthy watch life now over 44 years old. It sports a fresh rubber band and still speaks in that gentle “tic-toc-tic-toc,” promising more stories yet to come.

And when I fasten it onto my wrist, I don’t see a product. I see my life well lived, full of experiences and a brand that is loyally at my side, ready for more life-defining stories.