Emails are the best. We were being told this at the mini seminar, send them. People appreciate emails. We, small business entrepreneurs, were being told this, they will thank you. Content is King, send the email.
I decided to write an email of the week. It’s my new thing, and I won’t call it a blog post. Nope, it’s now an email of the week, an incognito electronic missal randomly aimed at the public via a blog. Am I so hopeless at advertising?
When I was a student I used to review and consider jobs advertised in the newspapers. A month in the north of the Netherlands as a lab rat. All expenses paid, and a salary. It seemed suspect. First off, who would want to spend a month or even two months in the north of Holland being observed roaming about in a medical facility in the dead of winter? I imagined that participants would have to wear white shoes, or in any case white shoes were involved in the experience. The ads would indicate that you need to be in such and such a shape. Despite being poor, I never wrote in for an interview. I would fantasize about staying in a medical facility in the north of the Netherlands reading books and eating canteen meals. Most of all I wondered who would be there; hobos, or wrecks of people who signed up for experiment after experiment, making a living from being a medical lab rat pumped full of substances and monitored as they experienced violent reactions to cocktails of medications. Did I want to join them? Exit the world? Play Russian roulette with my organs?
Content is king we were told at the strategic meeting of how to launch a successful internet business. You must not talk about yourself, everyone does, and instead you must deliver your expertise.
What expertise? If I talked about vocal expertise, everyone (i.e. all the singers I know) would jump on me and pontificate their own ideas. Same with the use of self, and frankly I’ve long given up on caring to spout some gospel truth on the art of singing. I sing now better than ever in my life and I’ve learned a lot. Amen. So….
I once mentioned, way back then, as a joke, that a friend of mine might want to earn some money being a lab rat. “Are you out of your mind?” She replied shocked. Obviously that person did not share my fascination with Spartan surroundings and institutionalized meals. I don’t know how to justify this but in some ways that cheap plastic, plywood, glue smelling environment is desperately comforting to me, an un-sturdy oasis or a delicious void.
“What are they going to do?”
I couldn’t remember. I’d read the papers the hospital sent three months ago. And here I was sitting drinking coffee with colleagues this week while I modeled a giant sticker across my upper arm. Underneath the sticker four degrees of substances were busy doing something to my skin. I’d been approached by a medical research team because I’d been operated on less than a year ago. When I went back for the final control a few days later I was told what was happening. Three of the four patches spots were rather irritated. The research team examined my arm. “Your skin is highly sensitive and your scar tissue is dense.”
“Are you going to develop a cream for scar tissue?”
“The research is for scar prevention and this is the tip of the iceberg. First we need to understand what makes different people scar differently.” They measured skin moisture for quite a while using hand held machines.
Sounded like this was going to be years in the making. “Have you been part of a research project?” I asked one of the researchers.
“I am one of a set of identical twins. I’ve been followed since birth.”
She had some fascinating things to say. Loads of content. The morning was all quite cozy and enjoyable. I eyed their white shoes with a great deal of satisfaction while they took some blood.