I'm a commuter. I sit on a train for a total of 2 hours every day right along side all the 45 year old dads who think that I'm going to go back to college any day now, but 1.5 years later, I'm still there. It has been during these past 1.5 years in which I've learned that the train is by far the most interesting microcosm of human behavior and more specifically, the train is the best place to observe social etiquette, or the lack thereof.
For example, I have sat in the same seat in the same train car since I began commuting - last car, right side, 4th seat up. My fellow commuting comrades have marked their territory as well and we all do the same thing every morning knowing the "dos" and "donts" of the 6:34 am train. The man who sits a row in front of me pops open a diet coke like clock work as soon as he settles in. The woman to my left will always be working on her laptop and start packing it up as soon as we hit the second to last stop. I will have my nose buried in a book and close it once we pass a specific apartment building that has become my own personal landmark hinting that my destination is near. And no one talks. It is silent. You always know when a newbie gets on because they either are on their cell phone (a big no-no on the 6:34) or they try to strike up a conversation with their neighbor (aka - the morning kiss of death).
Every train has different etiquette and about a year ago, I took the 7:11 am and those "locals" were yuckin' it up, sharing donuts and stories, and to be honest, I was scared. I missed the silent, familiar faces of the 6:34 and feared that someone had already muscled their way into the last car, right side, 4th seat up, claiming it as their own (thankfully, I have resumed ownership).
So basically, every train has its own style, from my 6:34 library on wheels to the 7:11 mobile college party, that its riders adapt to making for a great National Geographic article - "Behaviors of Commuters in their Natural Habitat: The Metra". However, just as a lion disturbs a pack of gazelles, "Scary Train Boy" has forever disturbed my commuting surroundings and is THE epitome of someone who has no concept of train etiquette or just social etiquette and norms in general...
I was on my regular train back to the burbs (which happens to be a very mellow, quiet train, similar to my morning ride), minding my own business, listening to Justin Timberlake on my iPod (if I remember correctly, I was all about "SexyBack" at the time). It was unusually crowded on the train that day and just as I was ready to let JT serenade me and "take it to the chorus", I noticed that the 20 something guy who just sat down next me (later to be named, "Scary Train Boy") was asking me a question - now this where I SHOULD have left my headphones on and kept my train ride between me and Justin, but no, I'm not rude, so I take off my headphones and say, "excuse me?"
Now before I go any further, let me paint a picture for you - this "Scary Train Boy" is a little under 5 foot 5, has a gaming belly (aka - a beer belly not induced by alcohol, but by long afternoons of Xbox), long sideburns, tiny wired rimmed glasses and small, little rat teeth. Now mix that with the comic book store owner from the Simpsons and you can now picture him. Obviously, this isn't what I saw when he first starting talking to me because I'm not THAT judgemental and honestly, he just looked like an average nerd before he opened his mouth.
Anyway, as soon as "excuse me?" came out of my mouth, the next 60 minutes would be the most painful moments of my entire train riding experience. Long story short, "Scary Train Boy", starts a conversation and won't shut up. And on my very quiet train, he's talking very, very loud about everything from comic books (I kid you not) to one night stands. And since I painted the picture of him for you, do you honestly think he's had a one night stand? He then starts asking me if I have a boyfriend to which I respond, "YES. A very SERIOUS boyfriend, who is very aggressive". Now my fellow commuters are starting to snicker and look at us, and I'm mortified - I have a reputation to maintain on the Metra, you know.
I'm not rude and if you remember a recent post, I'm nice to a fault, but as the time ticked with "Scary Train Boy", I became downright rude. I would put my earphones back on as he was talking - did that stop him, no? I then text my mom to "please call me", so I could excuse myself to answer a very important call who was just my very confused mother on the other line. The train was packed, I was sitting by the window, I was trapped and of course, his stop was AFTER mine.
This was the first, but not the last time I encountered "Scary Train Boy". About once a month, he'll pop up on my train and somehow happen to find me. I now have a system down - if the train isn't crowded, I'll say that I was just getting up because a friend just called to say that they were sitting in the back of the train and I invited me to sit with them. Or, if the train is crowded, I'll text my mom, "STB", and she'll call me to chat for the next 60 minutes - God bless that woman.
So I guess the point of this long, hopefully funny, story is to bring to every one's attention the interesting social world we live in. Even if you don't commute everyday like I do, I'm sure you've experienced your own little microcosm of social behavior and I know that everyone has witnessed public etiquette gone very, very bad. So when you're standing in line at Starbucks, take a look around and you'll notice a well oiled machine of activity and those who don't know the "rules" stand out and annoy you to no end. Hopefully, "Scary Train Boy" doesn't happen to be in that line asking you obscenely inappropriate questions.
If you have your own stories of socially dysfunctional people, I'd love for you share them!
Friday, October 19, 2007
Thursday, October 18, 2007
You Say Tomato, I Say Dating - Part II
To conclude my thoughts on the definition of dating, I want to reference a conversation I recently had with a good friend. This specific friend has mastered that art of dating that my mom had once so flawlessly executed, and she openly admits that she receives her share of criticism in regards to her style. But she also confidently says that she's just one girl in a big city of people, so having a "flavor of the month" is just a way for her to find THE flavor of her life, and there is no harm in openly and frequently dating especially if she's not giving the flavors any real "sugar". How sweet it is.
So how can we define dating for 2007? I don't think you really can. My mom and good friend have the same old school mentality of keeping dating casual, frequent and constantly changing. But a majority of people I know either keep dating really, really casual to the point of "I'm not sure if we're just friends" or take it the other extreme of getting bent out shape when they write on some one's Facebook wall of the opposite sex and conclude their comment with a ":)" - "What does that mean?! Is he cheating on me?! He doesn't put ":)"s on my wall!!!"
Below are my own, personal definitions of the many layers of dating, take them for what they're worth:
So how can we define dating for 2007? I don't think you really can. My mom and good friend have the same old school mentality of keeping dating casual, frequent and constantly changing. But a majority of people I know either keep dating really, really casual to the point of "I'm not sure if we're just friends" or take it the other extreme of getting bent out shape when they write on some one's Facebook wall of the opposite sex and conclude their comment with a ":)" - "What does that mean?! Is he cheating on me?! He doesn't put ":)"s on my wall!!!"
Below are my own, personal definitions of the many layers of dating, take them for what they're worth:
- "We're Talking" = You met someone at a bar, gave them your phone number and now you talk with them randomly on a Tuesday night and you can't seem to remember if they were cute or not - this has little to no potential of going somewhere serious and a HUGE potential of being awkward when you finally meet up with them again
- "I'm Seeing Someone" = Casually talking or hanging out with someone who you may like to date; this person most likely has or will spend many nights with you and your roommates on your couch watching Sex in the City
- "We're Dating" = Seeing someone who may have the potential of being more and this includes going to functions beyond the bar scene and your couch; somewhere in this period you will most likely meet the parents
- "I'm in a Relationship on Facebook" = Whoa, this is getting serious; you are telling all of your 413 closest friends that you're taken
- "This is my Boyfriend/Girlfriend" = Take this one for what its worth; I once had a "boyfriend" for 3 days in the 6th grade and I now have a boyfriend who I know will be in my life forever and turn into "something else"; if your significant other refuses to say this word even if things are serious, be worried, but if he/she acknowledges the term but doesn't throw it around like is confetti, don't be too concerned
So you say Tomato, I say Tomatoe. You say dating, I say what's your defintion?
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
You Say Tomato, I Say Dating - Part I
What comes to your mind when you hear "dating"? If you're part of generation X or Y, chances are you all have a very different view and definition of the word, which leads to a lot of miscommunication and confusion. "Dating" to some people means casually seeing more than one person at a time with no strings attached, but for others, it can also mean a monogamous relationship that comes paired with the title "girlfriend" or "boyfriend". So how should we define the word for 2007?
When my sister and I were growing up, my mom would always tell how us how during her "dating years" she would have dates every Friday and Saturday night with different "gentlemen", and would question why we weren't doing the same. No, my mom wasn't encouraging us to be, for a lack of better words, "loose women" (love you, Mom), she just didn't, and probably still doesn't, know that the term "dating", and romantic relationships in general, are not what they used to be.
First, I've found that the actual "date" is dead. I realize this isn't going to be true for everyone, but on average, it seems that dates have gone from the one-on-one dinner and a movie of my mom's era to the "come over and watch a movie with my roommates so they can judge you" date of today. I think the more casual approach to dating is due to the fact that so many people meet one another in bars or other potentially judgement impaired settings that when it comes time for the sober meet and greet, there is power and safety in numbers, so the first date that includes your roommates seems like a smart first move. Then once you get comfortable keeping it casual, the fine dining seems like an unnecessary cost and "ta-da!", you don't know if you're "dating", "seeing each other" (is that the same as dating?) or "just friends". Damn.
Second, men today are no longer the chivalrous, confident men of yesterday, which I believe has greatly impacted today's definition of dating. This isn't entirely men's fault and because I happen to have great men in my life, I rather stress the variables that men in the dating scene cannNOT control, to give them some benefit of the doubt, which includes the increasing reliability on the woman to make the first move. Compared to my mom's dating day, its more acceptable for the female to approach the male and I think this a result of women finally taking control of every aspect of their lives. But this has confused the dating scene. I am in serious relationship and was the one to make the first move by asking him out and although we're now 3.5 years into a great relationship, I think it threw him off in the beginning and I had to continue sending "signals" for him to finally take dating ownership. This isn't a bad thing, its just part of the explanation as to why "dating" is no longer black and white.
And what's most interesting in today's dating scene is how "serious" things get so quickly. My mom always made the argument that she could casually date different lads without things getting taken out of context with absolutely no lines being crossed. As politically correct and liberal as my generation is, we sure do like to commit and keep things conservative. Going back to my mom, her kind of dating was considered normal, and I feel that if a young person today consistently has different dates with different people even withOUT any hanky panky, they are considered promiscuous (insert Nelly Furtado's song now). Its seems that if you go out on a REAL date (not a TV party with the roomies) and then you see that person out with someone else the following weekend, all Hell breaks loose. "How dare he/she". Did you even really like them? Well, no. But still, you were kind of, sort of annoyed that someone you were "dating" was out on a date with someone else.
This merits a Part II post once I get some feedback on how "dating" can be defined for 2007. Or is that the beauty of dating in 2007, that times are changing and so should relationships? Do people get serious so quickly because a relationship is the only thing that is stable in 2007 with so many other issues surrounding us?
When my sister and I were growing up, my mom would always tell how us how during her "dating years" she would have dates every Friday and Saturday night with different "gentlemen", and would question why we weren't doing the same. No, my mom wasn't encouraging us to be, for a lack of better words, "loose women" (love you, Mom), she just didn't, and probably still doesn't, know that the term "dating", and romantic relationships in general, are not what they used to be.
First, I've found that the actual "date" is dead. I realize this isn't going to be true for everyone, but on average, it seems that dates have gone from the one-on-one dinner and a movie of my mom's era to the "come over and watch a movie with my roommates so they can judge you" date of today. I think the more casual approach to dating is due to the fact that so many people meet one another in bars or other potentially judgement impaired settings that when it comes time for the sober meet and greet, there is power and safety in numbers, so the first date that includes your roommates seems like a smart first move. Then once you get comfortable keeping it casual, the fine dining seems like an unnecessary cost and "ta-da!", you don't know if you're "dating", "seeing each other" (is that the same as dating?) or "just friends". Damn.
Second, men today are no longer the chivalrous, confident men of yesterday, which I believe has greatly impacted today's definition of dating. This isn't entirely men's fault and because I happen to have great men in my life, I rather stress the variables that men in the dating scene cannNOT control, to give them some benefit of the doubt, which includes the increasing reliability on the woman to make the first move. Compared to my mom's dating day, its more acceptable for the female to approach the male and I think this a result of women finally taking control of every aspect of their lives. But this has confused the dating scene. I am in serious relationship and was the one to make the first move by asking him out and although we're now 3.5 years into a great relationship, I think it threw him off in the beginning and I had to continue sending "signals" for him to finally take dating ownership. This isn't a bad thing, its just part of the explanation as to why "dating" is no longer black and white.
And what's most interesting in today's dating scene is how "serious" things get so quickly. My mom always made the argument that she could casually date different lads without things getting taken out of context with absolutely no lines being crossed. As politically correct and liberal as my generation is, we sure do like to commit and keep things conservative. Going back to my mom, her kind of dating was considered normal, and I feel that if a young person today consistently has different dates with different people even withOUT any hanky panky, they are considered promiscuous (insert Nelly Furtado's song now). Its seems that if you go out on a REAL date (not a TV party with the roomies) and then you see that person out with someone else the following weekend, all Hell breaks loose. "How dare he/she". Did you even really like them? Well, no. But still, you were kind of, sort of annoyed that someone you were "dating" was out on a date with someone else.
This merits a Part II post once I get some feedback on how "dating" can be defined for 2007. Or is that the beauty of dating in 2007, that times are changing and so should relationships? Do people get serious so quickly because a relationship is the only thing that is stable in 2007 with so many other issues surrounding us?
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
Do I Have "Non-Confrontational" Written on My Forehead?
I'm nice. I can't help it. I think its a positive attribute to have, but it sometimes kicks me in the butt, and my cheery disposition is often used against me. So not fair.
The security staff at the building where I work is the perfect example of people who use and abuse my "niceness". It all started about year ago when I came into work on a Saturday to finish up some last minute details for an event I was attending the following day. My building, usually buzzing with commotion and full of the sounds of clicking heels and ringing BlackBerries, was silent that Saturday morning and I could almost hear the hallways whispering, "get a life, go home". Feeling sorry for myself, I was even more saddened to see the same security staff I see Monday through Friday sitting at the front desk. I gave a friendly smile, a smile they had seen every morning for at least the past six months, and went about my business.
A few hours later I was ready to finally enjoy my Saturday, or at least what was left of it, and on my way out of the building, I looked up the 80 stories and thought, "hey, this would be a cool picture". Okay, so that's a lame thing to think of, but normally, when I'm at work I'm surrounded by hundreds of hurried people and never had the chance to really sink in my surroundings, so on this Saturday afternoon, I was taken back by the view.
So, I step back. Pull out my snazzy camera phone. Point. Click. And then get grabbed by security.
Within seconds, a man from the beloved security staff, who I was just feeling sorry for hours before for having to work on a Saturday, had his hand wrapped around my wrist demanding that I give him my phone. If only I knew the man's name I would have been like, "George or Chuck or Whoever, its me! The NICE girl you see every morning - I'm not doing anything wrong. And its Saturday for God's sake!".
Turns out, you can't take pictures of the building according to "George or Chuck or Whoever", which is nonsense because I was on public property and I'm pretty sure that every person who has every taken an architecture tour in the city has snapped some photos of this specific building. So what was really happening here? I'm convinced that the building security needs to make a "smack-down quota" and since I have "I'm non-confrontational" tattooed on my forehead, I'm the perfect target.
Recently, I was waiting in the lobby of my building for a friend as we were meeting for coffee, and "George or Chuck or Whoever" approached me once again and told me I couldn't "loiter" and asked for proof that I worked in the building. I have seen these damn security bullies, M-F for the past 1.5 years! I don't look like trouble. I don't look like I don't belong in my casual business attire. I do look NICE. That's the problem. The security can say they are doing their job by harassing me, which is obviously the better choice compared to Mr. Money Bags, CEO of "I Make More than You" Corp., who would throw a fit.
The security staff at the building where I work is the perfect example of people who use and abuse my "niceness". It all started about year ago when I came into work on a Saturday to finish up some last minute details for an event I was attending the following day. My building, usually buzzing with commotion and full of the sounds of clicking heels and ringing BlackBerries, was silent that Saturday morning and I could almost hear the hallways whispering, "get a life, go home". Feeling sorry for myself, I was even more saddened to see the same security staff I see Monday through Friday sitting at the front desk. I gave a friendly smile, a smile they had seen every morning for at least the past six months, and went about my business.
A few hours later I was ready to finally enjoy my Saturday, or at least what was left of it, and on my way out of the building, I looked up the 80 stories and thought, "hey, this would be a cool picture". Okay, so that's a lame thing to think of, but normally, when I'm at work I'm surrounded by hundreds of hurried people and never had the chance to really sink in my surroundings, so on this Saturday afternoon, I was taken back by the view.
So, I step back. Pull out my snazzy camera phone. Point. Click. And then get grabbed by security.
Within seconds, a man from the beloved security staff, who I was just feeling sorry for hours before for having to work on a Saturday, had his hand wrapped around my wrist demanding that I give him my phone. If only I knew the man's name I would have been like, "George or Chuck or Whoever, its me! The NICE girl you see every morning - I'm not doing anything wrong. And its Saturday for God's sake!".
Turns out, you can't take pictures of the building according to "George or Chuck or Whoever", which is nonsense because I was on public property and I'm pretty sure that every person who has every taken an architecture tour in the city has snapped some photos of this specific building. So what was really happening here? I'm convinced that the building security needs to make a "smack-down quota" and since I have "I'm non-confrontational" tattooed on my forehead, I'm the perfect target.
Recently, I was waiting in the lobby of my building for a friend as we were meeting for coffee, and "George or Chuck or Whoever" approached me once again and told me I couldn't "loiter" and asked for proof that I worked in the building. I have seen these damn security bullies, M-F for the past 1.5 years! I don't look like trouble. I don't look like I don't belong in my casual business attire. I do look NICE. That's the problem. The security can say they are doing their job by harassing me, which is obviously the better choice compared to Mr. Money Bags, CEO of "I Make More than You" Corp., who would throw a fit.
Its such a shame that nice people are taken advantage of and the grunting, pushy, attitude-heavy folks get to avoid issues such as my security staff woes. However, in the end, nice prevails, and I have reaped major benefits from my own niceness - free coffee (for nicely saying and not barking my Starbucks order to the barista in the morning), promotions (for being someone that people enjoy working with), a great boyfriend (trust me, the good ones don't like the bitch, they like the nice girls with a cute butt) and amazing friends.
So to "George or Chuck or Whoever" - let me say this - harass me all you want... you ain't breakin' my nice!
Monday, October 15, 2007
Random Acts of Kindness
Tis' the season for candy corn and tis' the morning for a random act of kindness.
I always dread waking up at 5 am every morning to make my daily, grueling commute. Monday mornings are especially hard, and I feel like I'm back in the 7th grade because I once again consider Sunday nights the worst "school night" of all - the fun of the weekend comes to a screeching halt and I have to crawl into bed early and start a full week of work... all over again.
This morning started like every other - I arrived at work, sifted through the 100+ emails that landed in my inbox over the weekend, eyed my schedule for the day and wished I was still buried in my glorious bed - but then some kindness, mixed with some candy corn, changed my entire morning... my colleague, friend and cube neighbor, knowing my love for candy corn, dropped two huge bags filled with the sugary goodness on my desk with a note recognizing a recent project we worked on together that turned out to a be a great success.
Two things come to mind: first, Brach's bags filled with corn and pumpkins can truly make any day a good day and second, a random act of kindness can make your day, your week or even just your life, better. I know, I know, I should stop being emotional about Halloween candy, but on a gloomy Monday morning, having someone acknowledge a job well done with something that they know you enjoy, can make you realize that are so many little things to look forward to each day, and each day - EVEN Monday - is another chance to experience a random act of kindness which reminds you that you are surrounded by good people.
So, to my candy corn-giving colleague - thank you for making my morning so much better, in fact, I've almost forgotten about my glorious bed and the fact that's it only 9 am on a Monday. And to everyone else - whether you give someone a bag of candy corn, a quick note or a pat on the back, remember that it feels just as good to give as it does to receive.
I always dread waking up at 5 am every morning to make my daily, grueling commute. Monday mornings are especially hard, and I feel like I'm back in the 7th grade because I once again consider Sunday nights the worst "school night" of all - the fun of the weekend comes to a screeching halt and I have to crawl into bed early and start a full week of work... all over again.
This morning started like every other - I arrived at work, sifted through the 100+ emails that landed in my inbox over the weekend, eyed my schedule for the day and wished I was still buried in my glorious bed - but then some kindness, mixed with some candy corn, changed my entire morning... my colleague, friend and cube neighbor, knowing my love for candy corn, dropped two huge bags filled with the sugary goodness on my desk with a note recognizing a recent project we worked on together that turned out to a be a great success.
Two things come to mind: first, Brach's bags filled with corn and pumpkins can truly make any day a good day and second, a random act of kindness can make your day, your week or even just your life, better. I know, I know, I should stop being emotional about Halloween candy, but on a gloomy Monday morning, having someone acknowledge a job well done with something that they know you enjoy, can make you realize that are so many little things to look forward to each day, and each day - EVEN Monday - is another chance to experience a random act of kindness which reminds you that you are surrounded by good people.
So, to my candy corn-giving colleague - thank you for making my morning so much better, in fact, I've almost forgotten about my glorious bed and the fact that's it only 9 am on a Monday. And to everyone else - whether you give someone a bag of candy corn, a quick note or a pat on the back, remember that it feels just as good to give as it does to receive.
Friday, October 12, 2007
PR = Please Rephrase
If you were to ask me what I did for a living, I would say "I'm in public relations". That gets the normal of response of, "Ah, I see. That's the same thing as advertising, right?" Um. Not exactly. I thought I would take this time to explain what I do for my own sake and for the sake of every other person out there who is in PR and needs to "Please Rephrase" what those two letters actually mean, which doesn't always translate into what Samantha Jones does.
When I'm trying to explain PR to one my feminine* friends, I always use the following example:
Pick up a copy of Cosmo - you'll most likely come to a section that highlights "must have" make-up/jewelry/clothes/whatever. Most of us, myself included, read those articles, and if the price is right, will go out and buy that Lancome Juicy Tube or ask for a pair Michael Kors flats for a Christmas gift from the unsually hip Santa.
So now you're walking around town with your hot, juicy lips and super trendy feet and you can thank a Lancome and Michael Kors PR person for that. Because all the articles you read that mention a product, were most likely touched by someone in PR. PR is advertising you don't pay for. By me mentioning the brand name of lipgloss and a pair of flats on my unheard of blog is an amateur verison of doing PR for those companies. (To Lancome and Michael Kors: please send cash, I do not accept checks.)
So why PR and not advertising? While ads are valuable and sometimes even provoke a cult following like those Geico Cavemen, it's editorial content that today's consumer really listens to. Let me go back to my Cosmo example - chances are you've seen a glamourous, big lipped ad for a Lancome Juicy Tube. Great - another gorgeous model with pouty lips that you'll never have. Now you read an article by a Cosmo reporter who has "done the research" and determined that a Juicy Tube is a "must have" for fall and by the way, Jennifer Lopez and Jennifer Aniston carry it in their Gucci handbags. What appeals to you more? The glossy ad that you know what paid for? Or the hip, cool reporter who knows her stuff and is sharing her insight with you?
Don't get me wrong, ads are a vital part of any campaign and its an entirely different beast. Its just that as society becomes more critical and cynical, companies need to get smarter and reach out to the people their consumers are listening to and trusting because we often don't trust corporations on their own.
And if you're wondering, no, I don't do any work with Cosmo or get to play with lipgloss and cute shoes. I spend my PR days pitching stories on technology companies and the only freebies I get are trial versions of CAD software - aren't you jealous?
*Please note that I've seen quite a few males pick up copies of Cosmo in hopes to see naked chicks and I also know that certain males who do not find naked chicks appealing, consider Cosmo the Holy Grail, so I want to be PC and say " my feminine friends" to avoid those gentlemen out there who like lipgloss and respect that this season is all about flats.
When I'm trying to explain PR to one my feminine* friends, I always use the following example:
Pick up a copy of Cosmo - you'll most likely come to a section that highlights "must have" make-up/jewelry/clothes/whatever. Most of us, myself included, read those articles, and if the price is right, will go out and buy that Lancome Juicy Tube or ask for a pair Michael Kors flats for a Christmas gift from the unsually hip Santa.
So now you're walking around town with your hot, juicy lips and super trendy feet and you can thank a Lancome and Michael Kors PR person for that. Because all the articles you read that mention a product, were most likely touched by someone in PR. PR is advertising you don't pay for. By me mentioning the brand name of lipgloss and a pair of flats on my unheard of blog is an amateur verison of doing PR for those companies. (To Lancome and Michael Kors: please send cash, I do not accept checks.)
So why PR and not advertising? While ads are valuable and sometimes even provoke a cult following like those Geico Cavemen, it's editorial content that today's consumer really listens to. Let me go back to my Cosmo example - chances are you've seen a glamourous, big lipped ad for a Lancome Juicy Tube. Great - another gorgeous model with pouty lips that you'll never have. Now you read an article by a Cosmo reporter who has "done the research" and determined that a Juicy Tube is a "must have" for fall and by the way, Jennifer Lopez and Jennifer Aniston carry it in their Gucci handbags. What appeals to you more? The glossy ad that you know what paid for? Or the hip, cool reporter who knows her stuff and is sharing her insight with you?
Don't get me wrong, ads are a vital part of any campaign and its an entirely different beast. Its just that as society becomes more critical and cynical, companies need to get smarter and reach out to the people their consumers are listening to and trusting because we often don't trust corporations on their own.
And if you're wondering, no, I don't do any work with Cosmo or get to play with lipgloss and cute shoes. I spend my PR days pitching stories on technology companies and the only freebies I get are trial versions of CAD software - aren't you jealous?
*Please note that I've seen quite a few males pick up copies of Cosmo in hopes to see naked chicks and I also know that certain males who do not find naked chicks appealing, consider Cosmo the Holy Grail, so I want to be PC and say " my feminine friends" to avoid those gentlemen out there who like lipgloss and respect that this season is all about flats.
Who is Stejamoe and Why is She Speaking?
Prounounced "Stee-ja-moe", it has been my nickname for almost a decade.
Back in the day, I was doing a school fundraiser and filled out an order form for all the things I had sold. A week later, all the orders were in and I waited paitently to hear my name to gather my lame, chotchke prizes ...
"Jimmy "... "Kyle "... "Sarah"... "Scott"... "Jenny"... "Stejamoe?!" Who the hell is that?!
It turns out that if your hands are in the "home key" position on a computer keyboard, and you shift your right hand one key to the right while trying to type "Stephanie", you end up typing "Stejamoe". The person inputting all my information was apparently in a data entry frenzy, and the name has stuck with me ever since.
So why does this Stjeamoe need to speak? A few of my colleagues have recommended that I start a blog because I always have some random thought or funny observation that would seem fitting to share with a larger audience. I also happen to be in public relations and know how valuable blogs and bloggers are becoming in the media sphere and spend hours every day reading up on industry expert blogs to determine new trends in my clients' industries. These bloggers are considered valuable influencers and they recieve some pretty shnazzy stuff just so they can blog on it and share, what will hopefully be, their positive opinion with the world.
So although I may have no authority whatsoever in any kind of industry, I'm hoping that I will someday be flown to Italy to play around with a new line of makeup or be sent the newest Manolo Blahniks so I can sing the praises of the finely crafted pair of pumps. By the way, I'm a size 8.5.
Back in the day, I was doing a school fundraiser and filled out an order form for all the things I had sold. A week later, all the orders were in and I waited paitently to hear my name to gather my lame, chotchke prizes ...
"Jimmy "... "Kyle "... "Sarah"... "Scott"... "Jenny"... "Stejamoe?!" Who the hell is that?!
It turns out that if your hands are in the "home key" position on a computer keyboard, and you shift your right hand one key to the right while trying to type "Stephanie", you end up typing "Stejamoe". The person inputting all my information was apparently in a data entry frenzy, and the name has stuck with me ever since.
So why does this Stjeamoe need to speak? A few of my colleagues have recommended that I start a blog because I always have some random thought or funny observation that would seem fitting to share with a larger audience. I also happen to be in public relations and know how valuable blogs and bloggers are becoming in the media sphere and spend hours every day reading up on industry expert blogs to determine new trends in my clients' industries. These bloggers are considered valuable influencers and they recieve some pretty shnazzy stuff just so they can blog on it and share, what will hopefully be, their positive opinion with the world.
So although I may have no authority whatsoever in any kind of industry, I'm hoping that I will someday be flown to Italy to play around with a new line of makeup or be sent the newest Manolo Blahniks so I can sing the praises of the finely crafted pair of pumps. By the way, I'm a size 8.5.
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