A letter of resignation...
Nearly five years ago, on a chilly spring morning, I pulled into the parking lot of a charming museum in a mansion on Lake Calhoun. I wasn’t sure where to enter the building, and the lot was a ghost town. I wondered if I had written down the wrong day. As I walked toward the delivery entrance, admiring the led glass windows, one of the garage doors opened—almost magically. A friendly man wearing a baseball cap appeared. “You must be Chris… I’m Chris,” he said with an outstretched hand. He confirmed that I had arrived on time for my first day of work at The Bakken Museum.
I have experienced a great deal during my time here. I have learned so many new things. There is so much that I will never forget. The squeals of delight from the kids who experienced the jolt of a circle shock during a school field trip. The look of excitement in visitors’ eyes as they discovered how the Electricity is Life machine worked during a Super Science Saturday. Seeing grownups giggle and wince as they anticipated how their mouth would feel when they took a sip of electrified wine during Bakken Evening Out. Watching an amazing volunteer charm a group of Red Hat Ladies during a house and garden tour. The beautiful book displays assembled outside the library. Smiling so wide that my cheeks hurt as I listened to kids tell funny stories about their inventions during a fundraising breakfast. Trying to contain my laughter as Birthday Party kids all hopped up and cake and electricity bounced off the classroom walls. Feeling so much pride that I thought I might burst as thousands of visitors came to see science theater, static demos, and dozens of super cool science activities from super cool staff and volunteers during 10 Best Days of The Bakken.
I will also never, ever forget the people who showed their support and love when I went through the most difficult time of my life last year—fighting the battle with ovarian cancer, and winning.
It is with a heavy heart that I tendered my resignation today. I will miss coming to this beautiful building every day, and working with the many extraordinary people here. Thank you for all you have done, and all you continue to do to make The Bakken a really amazing museum. I am proud to say I was a part of it during my time here.
Warm Regards,
Chris
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
Social media is not your savior
My first "real job" was chasing ambulances. Sort of. I did PR and marketing for an air ambulance service. The coolest part of my job was directing photo shoots inside medical helicopters while hovering over the city. That was the 90s, and in my opinion, media was pretty simple. There was print. The oldest form of media. Anyone who took a "Marketing 101" course in college learned that print had been around since the 1500s. There was radio and TV, also around for decades. And a few others including grassroots or "non-traditional" media.
I feel ancient for saying this, but around that time the internet was just emerging. I'm not certain that anyone had a full grasp on what it was, what it could do, or where it would take us. Cell phones sort of existed--we had a "bag phone" at the company where I worked. It required that the user lug around a big black leather satchel that housed the guts of the phone, and the hand held receiver was tucked away inside. I refused to use it because the bag never complimented any of my outfits.
My second position was in broadcast media where I found my niche. A job behind the scenes at a radio station was by far the best way to learn how media works. While there may have been some science to it, most often we took what was successful for our advertisers and made it work for us. We used promotional inventory (separate from paid advertising inventory) and told listeners why they should keep listening. Everyone had A.D.D. Everyone loved to channel surf. Messages needed to stand out and be memorable.
But we didn't just use radio to promote radio, we relied on all traditional forms of media. And guerrilla marketing. It was possibly the most aggressive form of grassroots marketing. We would park our vans outside of various events and venues, hand out bumper stickers, can coolers and T-shirts, and blast music. We would show up and crash competitor's events with armies of interns, and give away CDs and concert tickets. We would put up banners on any unadorned wall or fence. We would use high powered projectors to flash logos on the sides of buildings. We would broadcast live from beaches, parking lots, nightclubs. The guerrilla marketing code: "Ask forgiveness, not permission."
What was great about working in media was that we were usually the first to recognize and test new forms of media. The digital media age had taken off and we were in the thick of it. We had in-house programmers who developed our own websites, and designed client sites too. We hosted online contests and advertiser promotions. We shared pictures. We streamed audio and video. We interacted directly with our listeners. And during my last year in radio, we added text message marketing to the mix, to promote exclusive contests and create cutting edge campaigns for our advertisers. Oh, and there was a little thing called social media. On-air personalities created profiles on MySpace, and looked for a way to get on Facebook, which was only open to students.
After more than a decade, I left radio, but I walked away a Media Guru. I took my vast and inside knowledge of media and went on to do PR and marketing for the nation's largest traveling museum exhibition. Naturally, social media was part of the plan. We infiltrated Facebook's then private student network with a team of college interns who posted messages about how the exhibit was a must-see attraction. Cameras were prohibited in the exhibit, but our student crew shared their "insider" photos on Flickr and it went viral.
There's a reason I don't refer to myself as a Social Media Guru, and it's not because I don't understand the power of social media. I'll be among the first to acknowledge that it has changed the way we communicate--especially how we relay information, and what goes public. But hasn't every form of media done exactly that in its own time? I also agree that any great marketing plan should include social media. Without it, the museum exhibit would likely not have had the "buzz" that it did. It certainly didn't hurt that our intern team had something buzz-worthy to share. People were curious about real human bodies that had been turned to plastic. But it definitely would not have happened if the exhibit hadn't spent millions of dollars on advertising--mostly in traditional media.
Being the self-proclaimed Media Guru that I am, I have to say this. It makes me cringe when organizations put all of their eggs in the social media basket. I get it. Times are tough, and funds are limited. Who has 10-digit marketing budgets these days? But without the foundation of traditional media, your marketing plan is doomed to fail. IMHO. There are ways to stretch your budget and achieve your marketing goals. Ask any Media Guru and they will likely provide you with dozens of options. But seriously, social media is not your savior.
I feel ancient for saying this, but around that time the internet was just emerging. I'm not certain that anyone had a full grasp on what it was, what it could do, or where it would take us. Cell phones sort of existed--we had a "bag phone" at the company where I worked. It required that the user lug around a big black leather satchel that housed the guts of the phone, and the hand held receiver was tucked away inside. I refused to use it because the bag never complimented any of my outfits.
My second position was in broadcast media where I found my niche. A job behind the scenes at a radio station was by far the best way to learn how media works. While there may have been some science to it, most often we took what was successful for our advertisers and made it work for us. We used promotional inventory (separate from paid advertising inventory) and told listeners why they should keep listening. Everyone had A.D.D. Everyone loved to channel surf. Messages needed to stand out and be memorable.
But we didn't just use radio to promote radio, we relied on all traditional forms of media. And guerrilla marketing. It was possibly the most aggressive form of grassroots marketing. We would park our vans outside of various events and venues, hand out bumper stickers, can coolers and T-shirts, and blast music. We would show up and crash competitor's events with armies of interns, and give away CDs and concert tickets. We would put up banners on any unadorned wall or fence. We would use high powered projectors to flash logos on the sides of buildings. We would broadcast live from beaches, parking lots, nightclubs. The guerrilla marketing code: "Ask forgiveness, not permission."
What was great about working in media was that we were usually the first to recognize and test new forms of media. The digital media age had taken off and we were in the thick of it. We had in-house programmers who developed our own websites, and designed client sites too. We hosted online contests and advertiser promotions. We shared pictures. We streamed audio and video. We interacted directly with our listeners. And during my last year in radio, we added text message marketing to the mix, to promote exclusive contests and create cutting edge campaigns for our advertisers. Oh, and there was a little thing called social media. On-air personalities created profiles on MySpace, and looked for a way to get on Facebook, which was only open to students.
After more than a decade, I left radio, but I walked away a Media Guru. I took my vast and inside knowledge of media and went on to do PR and marketing for the nation's largest traveling museum exhibition. Naturally, social media was part of the plan. We infiltrated Facebook's then private student network with a team of college interns who posted messages about how the exhibit was a must-see attraction. Cameras were prohibited in the exhibit, but our student crew shared their "insider" photos on Flickr and it went viral.
There's a reason I don't refer to myself as a Social Media Guru, and it's not because I don't understand the power of social media. I'll be among the first to acknowledge that it has changed the way we communicate--especially how we relay information, and what goes public. But hasn't every form of media done exactly that in its own time? I also agree that any great marketing plan should include social media. Without it, the museum exhibit would likely not have had the "buzz" that it did. It certainly didn't hurt that our intern team had something buzz-worthy to share. People were curious about real human bodies that had been turned to plastic. But it definitely would not have happened if the exhibit hadn't spent millions of dollars on advertising--mostly in traditional media.
Being the self-proclaimed Media Guru that I am, I have to say this. It makes me cringe when organizations put all of their eggs in the social media basket. I get it. Times are tough, and funds are limited. Who has 10-digit marketing budgets these days? But without the foundation of traditional media, your marketing plan is doomed to fail. IMHO. There are ways to stretch your budget and achieve your marketing goals. Ask any Media Guru and they will likely provide you with dozens of options. But seriously, social media is not your savior.
Friday, November 4, 2011
Premium greeting
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| Pony shares his bed with my first dog, Jake. |
I didn't meet Da Vinci until a month or so after Matt and I started dating. But Matt gushed about him all the time. And when we would talk on the phone, quite often I would hear loud "thud" noises in the background. When I finally asked what it was, Matt explained that Da Vinci was entertaining himself by pouncing on his toys like a kitten. At around 100 pounds, Da Vinci's jumping was far from graceful or cat-like.
I'll never forget the day I met Da Vinci. Matt surprised me one evening by showing up to my house with a bag of groceries, a six-pack of beer, a DVD, and his dog. As I opened the door, he announced that he was there to make dinner. A nice surprise! I immediately noticed a long white furry face that seemed to be at eye level with me. One blue eye and one brown eye. "You must be Da Vinci," I said as I opened the door. He quickly pushed his way past me and ran toward my 14 year old deaf wiener dog asleep on his bed. The height of his back came up to my waist. His head nearly reached my arm pit. "That's no dog, it's a pony!" I said to Matt. "You brought me a pony!" I immediately nicknamed him Pony.
Despite his size, Pony is a very gentle dog. He runs as fast as lightning--an amazing sight to see. And he is clearly enamoured with Matt. In the morning, when he has to go outside, he comes to Matt's side of the bed and stares at him. Sometimes he makes a tiny squeaking noise. This dog is the only creature on earth that can get my boyfriend out of bed without any trouble. Their ritual begins with Matt sweetly saying, "Good morning, Buddy... Good morning, Da Vinci... How's my Buuuddy?" Or some version of it. Pony sighs and nuzzles Matt as he scratches his head. This goes on for a while and then Matt asks Pony if he wants to go outside. Pony lets out a big puff of air that makes his lips flap--just like a horse--and jumps around to confirm that he would like to leave the house. Quickly.
During this entire process, if I try to be a part of the ritual, I generally get ignored. At some point, I shared this observation with Matt, mocking the way he speaks to his beloved pet in the morning. It is what I now refer to as the "premium greeting." "I wonder if I'll ever get a premium greeting?" I ask in a syrupy voice. "Good morning, Sweet Pea... Good morning, Cricket... How's my Sweeeet Pea???" This generally doesn't work for me, since Matt is a bit of a bear in the morning, although it has gotten me a smirk or a headlock a handful of times.
Nowadays, I get woken up every morning by a super cute orange fluffy puppy. My dog Thor is seven months old, and he has already learned the art of the "wake-up-stare-down" from Pony. I don't mind though. Finally, my own premium greeting!
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