The Art of Talking Yourself Up

Even though the video is pitch black, the audio confirms life exists beyond my domicile. With all of the creaking, chirping, and squeaking going on outside my window you’d think wildlife is in need of an oil can. This is fairly common for a Summer’s night in the fields, though, and it’s quite welcome. The alternative is disheartening. I’m strongly adverse to another winter here, but where would I go? Who really wants an outsider? Having the experience of more than one out-of-state relocation, I can tell you few.

At this time of night (4 A.M.), my brain would be faltering and sleep would consume most of my thoughts. This is not the case tonight, as I really put the nose to the grindstone yesterday morning and invested 5 hours of sweat equity into the house with an additional 4 hours of life maintenance (e.g. mowing the lawn, doing laundry, etc.). At least I have a new chandelier, new ceiling fan, mowed lawn, and clean clothes to show for it. It’s a pretty basic work and reward situation. Writing, on the other hand, is a little less straightforward.

I’ve got professional writer’s block right now, but it hasn’t to do with any of my stories. I was going to dedicate a few hours yesterday evening for writing a profile for the family business, but instead fell asleep for 8 hours. Now, I’m wide awake playing personal schedule catch up. While adhering to a schedule is not my idea of fun, there are times when I know I need to move the ball down the field. That’s the mark of an effective person: identifying priorities.

You see, we’re sending in a proposal on Thursday to work on a project with the state of Ohio. The government is making its usual feel-good laundry list of demands and the owners, my parents, have realized they can’t complete it all themselves. Being the good-natured son and dutiful employee I am, I’ve finished some components of the request to speed things up. Coming from a small public accounting firm background, this is another day at the office: a client needs to be done in five days and there’s not even a draft on the partner’s desk… HAUL ASS, PEOPLE!

The biggest block to this profile I have is a crossover… a holdover from the personal realm. Company profiles are tethered to advertising and advertising is indelibly linked to sales. In sales, the concept of “talking up” the product or service rears its oft-deceitful head. Ever hear the expression “could sell freezers to Eskimos” attributed to a phenomenal salesman? Yeah. Deceit brings in money, and this isn’t even speaking on a fraud level. This is everyday business.

I’ve struggled with this concept for decades. My personality is one to reject boasting or otherwise hustling anyone in business. My ethics bind me to a position of letting the quality speak for itself. For years, I thought if my work proved itself strong, it would be self-evident to others. They would naturally choose to work with me. As good and right and egalitarian and logical and ethical and solid as that was on paper, it didn’t translate well in the trenches. Often the client has little idea of what is quality and what isn’t. This is hard for me to accept, but I’ll be damned if it isn’t the truth.

Who do they pick? They pick the lesser quality work with a company that dazzled. Even if the client eventually figures out the work is sub par, I’ve noticed clients will work with a lower-functioning business if they feel comfortable with the team. It blows my mind; I, personally, look for results. If someone isn’t performing, I put in the energy to find someone who does. That’s how I do business.

Now it’s my turn with sales. Even though I know it isn’t shuck and jive, it still feels like braggadocio. It’s hard for me to refrain from erasing the sentence I’ve written several times before. I’m getting in the way of myself. I’d love to instantly come up with lines that are comfortable to me and effective with my audience, but I don’t know if that common ground exists. This is absolutely why I didn’t go into sales or do well at the record label. My ethics are just too strong.

Advertisement

Dork Rage

dork

Definition of DORK

slang: nerd; also: jerk

*********

I said late last month I would explain my distaste for the “nerd love” atmosphere in American pop culture today. This comes from someone firmly planted in their dorkdom since the early 80s, and has Pac-Man sweater pics to prove it.

I don’t care what you say. That sweater was magic.

Let it be known people will want to make distinctions between nerds, dorks, and geeks but the overall idea is the same. We know who we are. I won’t argue over details, because it’s pointless. Glorifying such targets of social abuse is detrimental in the end, because a sucker is born every minute. In more recent cliché, the cake is a lie.

Maybe it’s because I’m too proud for my own good? Maybe it’s because I’m Admiral Ackbar, and smell a trap? Maybe it’s because this is a paltry concession to what was the deliberate souring of an innocuous existence? There was no reason for it, other than vying for fictitious dominion. All of it, a gigantic exercise in ugly. What’s even sicker is letting the rugged individualist take a turn at you with their self determination. That’s like me walking into your house, trashing it, and then saying clean it up to avoid “me winning.”

It’s no secret that nerds will drop bank on any collectible item he/she desires. The Comicons and auctions are proof of that. $350,000 for a TIE Fighter Miniature? Ka-blaow! Done. In this sea of expendable income, has it ever occurred to anyone that we’re simply being buttered up for the money? It’s not that we’re smart, or quirky, or often decent people. We simply have money and are being solicited by the consumerist prostitute into a quick ego boost.

Maybe others are fine with that, but it never settled well with me. Why does it have to be about money? Sure, we may have wars with hygiene, be less than attractive, have weight issues (ahem), or fall under the label of “weirdo” but I’ve met more of us that were responsible, thoughtful, creative, productive, and even more likable than society’s recreation of the cattle of Helios. We’re good people.

I suppose I am just a proud dork; I have relived one too many food chain reactions. I’m jaded, and cynical, but this whole wave of fandom still doesn’t feel right. You’re trying to use me now, like you did 25 years ago. Homie don’t play that.