But that's a rabbit hole for therapy, not my blog. I digress.
Granted, I also studied marketing in college, so I get it. There are tips and tricks to make consumers buy your goods. Although I haven't figured out Target's. That place must pump a mix of meth and heroin into their store because, without fail, I managed to load up my cart. Every. Single. Time.
Again, I digress.
Marketing, sales, I get it.
Here's where rubber meets the road: I dream about it.
Even though I'm not in a marketing or sales role anymore, although I believe those also entail herding cats which is part of my job now, I still look at campaigns, pricing, product placement, etc. For example, my cousin complained about the K-Mart commercial that played The Lights because it got stuck in her head. That's a genius - albeit evil genius - campaign because she remembered that it was a K-Mart. I tweeted that whenever I hear an instrumental version of Carol of the Bells, I get "Give a, give a, give a Garmin" with the ending of "Garmin dot com. Garmin dot com." Now that, is true marketing genius. I not only think about giving a Garmin, I repeat the website.
So anyway, about my dream.
The setting: A conference room with dry erase boards about.
The people: Me and a half dozen indiscriminate faces.
The topic: Meeting about Cinnabon cinnamon rolls.
Yes. I dreamt about being in a marketing Cinnabon gender roles. The guy leading the meeting said, "So, if the cinnamon roll is the father figure, how can we draw in the mother?"
Here's where I come in: "The frosting. It's warm, the best part, and it smothers everything."
Yes. I likened a mother to frosting because it smothers.
I'm amazing.
Oh, and just as my alarm was going off, the rest of the indiscriminate faces were giving me accolades for my brilliance.
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