Dear Lady Selling Seashells by the Seashore,
Let me get this straight. You managed to create the most successful word-of-mouth marketing campaign of all time but forgot to include a call-to-action? You’ve got half the world talking about your sea shell business (trying to at least, your tagline is a real sonofabitch) and somehow failed to mention where your retail stores are located? On behalf of all my marketing peers, what the actual fuck?
I mean, come on. “By the seashore” isn’t even close to a street address. Are you milking tourists on the Mediterranean? Peddling off the Persian Gulf? Bartering on the Black Sea? How am I supposed to plug you into Google Maps when I don’t even know what hemisphere you’re operating on?
You could’ve had class. You could’ve been a shell vendor. You could’ve been somebody. I know this for a fact because I had my intern, Kevin, calculate the profit loss resulting from your marketing fiasco.
Let’s say the bargain shells go for a buck and the posh ones cost five. Knowing that your campaign has reached approximately two billion people, your little oversight may well have cost you $10 billion. Kevin had to take two weeks off to recover from witnessing such a high level of fuckery.
Does your business even have a name? How do we know you’re running a legitimate operation over there (wherever there is)? For all we know you could be stuffing those puppies full of illegal drugs and selling them to pre-teens. Is “seashell” code for a new type of ammunition designed for underwater warfare? Are you an arms dealer sent from the future to bring ruin to our world? I demand answers!
That’s it. I’m tweeting a complaint to the Department of Commerce (that is the best way to get in touch with the governing body of the most powerful country in the world these days, right?).
Regards,
Thatcher Jensen