Success comes easily to purveyors of mini marshmallows! Apparently. I mean, the ad says so. To modern eyes, this gelatinous dessert is a little off-putting, but it must have looked alright in the May, 1983 issue of Canadian Living.
Category: Blog
In which I write down my thoughts and opinions at some length.
This website was archived on July 21, 2019. It is frozen in time on that date.
Sonya Mann's active website is Sonya, Supposedly.
I Edit Wikipedia
Spoiler alert: I don’t actually edit Wikipedia. The only individual I’m aware of who does is that wonderful man crusading against the ungrammatical phrase “comprised of”. But these volunteer models serve as stand-ins for other Wikipedians:
In 2008, students designed Wikipedia posters as an assignment for an art-direction class taught by Holly Shields at Texas State University. Flickr user mikeedesign explains how the posters were meant to mitigate the perceived unreliability of Wikipedia: “Our concept was to present an everyday person as an ‘expert’ on a specific subject in order to show that whether the information comes from a university professor or from an avid gamer, it is still reliable. […] We felt this approach humanizes the experience of Wikipedia.”
I love these posters. They depict the rabbit-hole glory of exploring obscure entries about a topic you find fascinating. However, your mileage may vary — for instance, my dad dislikes the TSU designs. To him, scribbled thought-trees look like a disorganized tangle of information, not something he would ever want to read.
Much as I personally enjoy them, the posters fail when it comes to People-Optimized Marketing. The text is certainly not readable at a glance. And although the sight may provoke your brain to twitch — “What the heck am I looking at?” — the posters won’t arouse emotion unless you already adore Wikipedia. It would also help to have the models smile. Cancer patients and veterans don’t have to be grim! People in tough circumstances can still feel joyful about their hobbies.
The Power of the Follow-Up Email
A big part of my new job is emailing people. Not just emailing them once, but sending an initial message, waiting a couple of days, then following up over and over again until they address my questions. Some people respond to the first email, which is great. Some people respond to the second, which is also great. A few people don’t respond until the sixth or eighteenth email. (At least theoretically — I haven’t gotten to that point yet. It’s only been two weeks.)
Maybe the follow-up email is an obvious technique, but it never occurred to me until I started work at ORO. I felt like I could send an email once and leave it at that. If the recipient wanted to respond, they would respond. If they didn’t — well, so much for that! However, when you’re talking to clients and vendors on behalf of a business, you can’t be so laissez-faire.
What’s really great is that the follow-up email works, probably through the power of sheer annoyance. By popping up in someone’s inbox repeatedly, I make them think, “Ugh, this Sonya chick won’t shut up until I respond. FINE.” Basically, I push myself to the top of their to-do list.
I fully intend to use this realization to further my personal interests as well as ORO’s. Expect more irritating emails from me! Sorry in advance.
Be A Better Speaker, Please, For Everyone’s Sake
Don’t abuse your captive audience.
In May I attended two college graduation ceremonies (weirdly called “commencements”), both of which lasted for hours, because a couple of my cousins earned bachelor degrees. I was happy to support my family by attending, but I was very unhappy to endure far more speechifying and other nonsense than necessary.
Here are two examples of how speakers at these commencement ceremonies waste the audience’s time:
- Introducing the person who’s going to introduce someone else. (I am not even slightly kidding; this happened.)
- Every individual speaker re-designating who the attendees are: “Dear graduates, faculty and staff, distinguished guests, family and friends, etc,” repeated by each person who mounts the podium.
The only memorable speaker was Senator John Lewis, who came of age as a leader in the 1960s Civil Rights protests. He was very inspiring, for lack of a less insipid word. (How sad is it that “inspiring” doesn’t mean much anymore?)
Anyway, my point is, if you have hundreds of people who have to sit and listen to you, try to do a good job. BE BRIEF.
Futuristic Dystopian Tea Advertising
“Nuclear tea. Advertising for 2175.” The visual design of this ad for “NucT” is compelling. When you look closely, the underlying sci-fi concept jumps out.
A post-apocalypse marketer inquires, “Are you ready for long nuclear winter? This tea has been harvested on the wastelands of the ruined Moscow, in the swamps of burnt Dalhi, and in the caves of the former Washington DC by specially trained zombie.” The product is “High-calorie, nuclear tea with small amounts of chromium-6 and radioactive weapons-grade plutonium.” (All errors in the original text.) Yup, sounds like an A+ nutritional choice.
In the caption the artist explains that after “the Global Nuclear War […] it will be fast restoration of the most common institutions including businesses”. He’s pitching an alternate version of Mad Max combined with the steampunk 80 Days universe. His prediction is based on twentieth-century history — the artist notes that post-World War One, the economy accelerated “in terms of medicine, science and art.”
I just think that sci-fi advertising is cool. World-building = my favorite. (Not as an activity — I don’t have the creative chops. Yet.) I love stories that fill out all the peripheral details of an altiverse. That was part of what made the Harry Potter books awesome.
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