ChezGigi

Fractured Fallacies of a Finagling Fact Finder and Obfuscating Humorist

A Woman's Guide To The Universe

Guerilla Marketing: An 8 Year-Old Had It Down

Guerilla marketing is best done by an 8 year-old. When my son was 8, he started a doggy day care so he could afford more Pokemon cards, because 300 cards weren’t enough. Everyone is of the mind that the Japanese are smarter than the rest of us, and based on Pokemon cards and the income generated therefrom alone, I’m inclined to agree. Those cards even outdid the Pet Rock in fiscal terms.

This contractual obligation he came up with is Mafioso:

I found his poster the other day and based on hindsight, discovered much to admire about my son’s marketing skills.

He’s straight up with the price of his services, opening his ad copy with $3.00. He then lets us know for what he is charging this money, which is “taking care of your dog.” What this care entails is open to question. You had to contact him to find out. Maybe he was going to put that sucker down for you in a discreet way and blackmail you $3.00 a day to keep quiet about it. Guerilla marketing at its finest.

Think of it: “Every day” means every day, Clueless Consumer. That’s what is so fun about blackmail. Compounded quarterly, a daily payment of $3.00 would have added up to a tidy sum now that he’s 28. Get an attorney next time you hire an 8 year-old.

After all, why wouldn’t you get rid of a permanent house guest who can’t use the toilet, always wants what you’re eating, stares at you unblinkingly if you don’t hand it over, barks at every scooter and pedestrian, and sticks a cold, wet nose under your robe just when you bend over to get something out of the fridge? If your brother in-law did all those things, you’d pay someone to get rid of him.

My son then moved on to conditional customers, those few who don’t read the fine print in contracts: $5.00 a day if your dog resists his ministrations, or his attempts to “take care of them.” Your brother in-law may struggle a bit when he’s face down in a bath tub full of water. For this, my son deserved a little more.

He then gives his contact info. Scribbled out under that was a “P.S. I don’t do cats.” He changed his mind after The League of Cat Owners got after him for discrimination and he recanted his position on this. He even drew a little picture of a happy cat around the bubble. Cats aren’t generally walked, or taken care of the way dogs are, so his price remains $3.00 a day, unless you can find the loophole in his contractual obligations. I see it, but then I’m naturally suspicious. Particularly of 8 year-olds.

However, for those who like pictures to accompany domestic services, there’s a picture of him walking a dog — an existentially inclined dog — who is righteously outraged when he sees a surprised and frightened cat without a leash. Upon further inquiry, he told me that the dog has gotten the idea to chase said cat, and that he, Brandon, is questioning whether he should be charging the owner of said dog and cat even more. (That was my input; his cartoon boy is questioning whether to dig in his heels as he’s about to be dragged away by a dog.)

To wrap it up, he assures people he’s “not a baby,” tells them his name, and then copyrights the poster.

Inspired. Truly inspired. Why aren’t we rich by now by virtue of adorable guerilla marketing?

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4 Comments

  1. Mary N

    He’s rich. He just isn’t mentioning it. Have you checked his mattress?

    Cute as a button and smart too. Takes after a certain gal we know.

    • Oh, you! He was a cutie, thank you so much.
      You know, he used to hide money in his stuffed cat, a Pokemon character. Can’t remember his name, but he only had the one. I’ll be right back…..

  2. Ranne

    Kids definitely have an edge when it comes to creativity. Maybe because their brains aren’t overwhelmed with detail and garbage yet. A relative told me of her daughter who was invited to a costume party last minute. Mom had no costume so kid dresses in her bathrobe and holding a toothbrush announces she’s going as “just awake”. She was six.

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