Or, what’s with all the polls?
So, I’m skimming through e-mail the other day and in the middle of a note about something totally unrelated, a buddy asks why I’m doing marketing research on my blog.
Hunh? I think. Marketing research? Then, it hits me that he’s talking about my latest poll. He reminded me that, hey, it’s my blog and I can write whatever I want. I don’t have to do market research on what my readers want on my own blog. Oddly, it never even occurred to me that I was doing that. Admittedly, I did feel a shift in my demographic from professional, male geeks toward something more, er, feminine and not quite as geeky, so I guess that triggered my need for feedback and research.
See, not only do I have a degree in Marketing, but I was raised by a life-long salesman and marketer. Dad drummed those things right into me before I even got to college. “Monitor progress toward goals” and “Be sure to ask the right questions” and “Set measurable goals” were all things he tried to teach me. Not just about business, but life. So, market research is part of who I am. It’s what I do. Kind of an odd thing for a geek to know, I suppose. Of course, I know a lot of things that are odd, even for geeks. For instance, when I remember to listen to my own inner voice, I can size people up pretty quickly and accurately. Good trait for a therapist, or a salesman.
But, I don’t think I have the right personality to make a good salesman. I’m not anywhere near outgoing enough to make that my bread-and-butter. I’m far too quiet. Honestly? I think I would have made a good priest. Yes, even with my dubious background, I would have made a decent priest. Not a monk, but priest. Sadly, I was raised Methodist by Baptists, so that option wasn’t really right for me. And, frankly, I never trusted our ministers, so that option is out, too. But remember, before every priest took his vows, he was a regular guy. Even a priest has a past. Oh, and, I can work a room, too. Some of my friends know what my stand-up would be like. They’ve heard me do ten or fifteen minutes just on my ex-wife and, mostly, they were rolling. I get that from Dad, too. He could tell off-color jokes at a funeral and get away with it, not to mention those crucifixion jokes he used to tell at Easter.
But, I digress. So, I can’t help the marketing research. It’s just one of the crazy things that make me who I am, like being double-jointed or knowing about knife-throwing or being obsessed with language and the written word. Just another mostly harmless quirk. As long as I remember not take it too seriously.
Now, about those tattoo stories… Should we start with “How Uncle Jim Got His First Tattoo”? Or is that too much like one of Kipling’s Just So Stories? Or, would my faithful readers be more interested in the finger cutting ritual of the yakuza? You know, there’s a trick to that…