When I worked at Brookstone in (holy crap, I’m old!) the early ’90s, our most popular item — by far — was a nose hair trimmer. It was a small and discreet battery-powered doodad that always caused a great deal of embarrassment for the men who purchased it. You’d be amazed how often the guy I was ringing up said, “It’s for my dog.”
Seriously. They did this all the time. I tried not to roll my eyes, a feat that took great willpower. It got to the point where I just wanted to save us both the time and trouble by proactively blurting out, “Let me guess. Your dog has a nose hair problem!” And add a wink for good measure.
Look, I’ve never had a dog, but I’m pretty sure few dog owners worry about keeping Fido’s nose hairs in check.
(Side note: does anybody ever actually name their dog Fido?)
(Side side note: if I ever get a dog, I’m totally naming it Fido.)
I never understood this compulsion to lie to a stranger behind a cash register. People are so self-centered! They always assume they’re being judged, but you could have an Amazon rainforest sprouting inside your nostrils and I wouldn’t give two hoots.
Same if you were returning something. Brookstone had a lifetime warranty on most products, so those customers who felt compelled to drone on and on with a list of excuses (the item was too big or too small or clashed with the furniture or didn’t reach far enough up Fido’s nose to eradicate every last hair) were just wasting their breath. It’s not like my mom was Brooke Stone or I owned stock in the company. It was a college job that paid barely more than minimum wage. If we had sold fruit, you could have returned week-old bananas because they were no longer yellow and I would have happily refunded your money.
(But really, you should be turning those into banana bread.)
As a result, I am a fearless returner to this day. It doesn’t matter if I’ve lost the receipt or cut off the tags. Hell, I have returned pants that have been worn and gone through the wash. And I always get my money back, or at the very least a store credit. Returning unwanted purchases doesn’t faze me in the least, because once upon a time, I was the guy behind the register, the one who didn’t give a crap. I see me reflected in them. It’s the retail circle of life.
Anyway. The whole point of this mini rant is, the nose hair trimmer makes for a great story. And telling stories is kinda my jam. So, what happens when you’re a storyteller working for a big government agency that isn’t one of the sexy ones, like Travel Wisconsin, for instance? You get creative.
(Side side side note: I actually did land an interview with Travel Wisconsin once, shortly after moving out here. Obviously, I did not get the job, which means clearly they did not bother reading my blog.)
No knock on CheeseGov, by the way. Not everybody can be sexy. The world needs Buicks just as much as Porsches. My challenge is to pimp this ride, if you will. Trick it out. Turn heads, make people take notice. That means trying out some new approaches people haven’t thought of before.
Today, for instance, is National Pizza Party Day. What does that have to do with CheeseGov? Not a damn thing…at first glance, anyway. But then I asked myself, what is the foundation of a good pizza? Dough, of course. And that got the wheels turning. This Buick was on the move! Dough is slang for money. The more it rises, the better the pizza – and the more financially secure you are. I took that analogy and ran with it. Added in some metaphors, a well-placed pun or two, and voila! A hot, fresh take on external messaging was born. It doesn’t promote any particular product or service, but instead, focuses on CheeseGov as a brand. Injects a little personality and shows we have a sense of humor. We’re not so crusty after all!
Whether this will resonate with our audience remains to be seen. Luckily, I have a boss who is open to new ideas and enthusiastic coworkers who are applauding my efforts. New guy or not, I’m doing my best to mold CheeseGov’s identity to my creative vision. One curd at a time.
Mark My Words 
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