The Charge of the Marketing Brigade
For my 400th column (stage direction: toss confetti now), a visit to the bad poetry corner.
Half a week, half a week, half a week onward,
ever the deadlines loom for the four hundred.
“Send me your column!” My editors cry.
Hurried, work suffers, and all heave a sigh.
“Answer my questions of websites and sales,”
a reader from Poway, each quarter she wails,
While others from PQ, Ramona, RB
all ask for advice, for they know that it’s free.
They write in sometimes and at others, alone,
I write for myself with a far different tone,
you have but to ask and I’ll tackle your query,
or I’ll make stuff up, of which, frankly, I’m weary.
“You’re Mr. Marketing!” (heard at a party),
“I read your words weekly. I think you’re a smarty.
You speak of brochures and PR and trade shows,
showering us always with stories and prose.”
My goals? Make you question your ways, or just smile,
having your efforts work hard all the while
you’re talking to customers, prospects and friends
in business, communicating well never ends.
Though you may not know why
I’ll always send reply
You might laugh or you might cry
when you read my column about Pi.
Fools to right of you, Fools to left of you,
Fools in front of you, customers too.
Focus on messaging, growing your business.
And listen to Shakespeare; to yourself be true.
Your goal remains to grow the biz,
to profits you should add some fizz.
Take a chance, do something wild,
Ask the Hat Man, silly child.
Each week I’m here to serve you well
to help you weather shot and shell
reaching clients as you compete
and make relations more complete.
The bottom line: You’re not alone.
You have a friend. Pick up the phone.
Or send a note. A question ask.
As you set to this mark’ting task.
Four hundred columns I’ve now writ,
Some you liked; some caused a snit,
Regardless, you keep coming back.
Let’s hope, lest I be thought a hack.
And so I’ll end, this missive done,
Accomplished little, had some fun,
Invite you back next week, I will
There’s time to solve your problems still.
Mr. Marketing apologizes to Alfred, Lord Tennyson, who is spinning in his grave about now. For some less derivative work, visit www.askmrmarketing.com.