August
28th, 2006
Because
I'm an insane narcissist, I'll occasionally go undercover as
a consumer, like King Harry walking the camp in disguise on
the eve of the Battle
of Agincourt. "How's that new model selling? What did
you think of the radio ad? I thought it was pretty
brilliant, myself."
Sad?
Without question. Revealing? Yes, actually. And humbling. There's
nothing I can do to sell a product that a surly clerk can't
undo with a single frown. The horrible truth of our industry
is that even the greatest multi-million dollar campaign ultimately
hinges on whether the wage-slave behind the counter woke up
on the wrong side of the bed.
That's not
to say customers can't be utter
bastards as well, mind you.
In other
news, The
Curse Of The "Half Days" Comic has claimed another victim.
Jamie's Mac is smoking like a post-coital European, so this
week's words
vs. pictures update is going to be a little late as a result.
We're shooting for Tuesday morning.
-Graham
P.S. On
a totally unrelated note, I'd like to say how happy I am to
see the return of Phil, who was written out of a comic around
this time last year. Apparently, he's since found work as a
security guard. Go Phil!
