Once in awhile I get an e-mail from a PR person who wants me to write a blog post about one of her clients. I must have been pretty feeble in a previous life to deserve to be left on some infernal master list of babybloggers way past Jackson's toddlerhood expiration date -- actually, I didn't even start getting targeted by these people until he was already able to pour Smirnoff from the value jug without spilling. So I tend to get a little bent when someone persists in taking up my, uh, valuable inbox space.
Typically they read whatever post is at the top of my page, work some comment about it into their first paragraph, and then paste in their pitch directly below.
Now, I haven't been so hot at replying to e-mail the last couple of months, and I'm really sorry about that, I have a few really sincere messages growing stale in my drafts folder because I just haven't had the wherewithal to respond.
This kind of stuff, though, I feel okay about ignoring it. And yet it persists on appearing! Because it's the job of online PR to woo me into inserting their client's latest cross-platform marketing solution into a long pointless blog post about my blisters.
I hope you are doing well. I'm writing today in follow up to my [intentionally ignored] message last week. I'm eager to hear your thoughts and feedback on [big retailer's] online resource center and back-to-school promotions and deals.
If you are interested, please feel free to share with your readers the shopping guide and news of the [huge retailer's] contest.
You can contact me with any questions about [massive retailer's] programs. Have a great day!
This is basically personalized spam. Sweet robot monkey god, it makes me itch. I know that someone somewhere thinks the Internet is full of soccer moms swapping tips on where to get the latest backpacks -- I have not seen such web sites, but maybe they're out there. I know it's bad enough that I run ads on my site, but they're there for a reason: if you want a few thousand Internet eyeballs on your product, there's space for it over in the right column, and I will get some money for it, which will not be spent on backpacks, but on gin. So let me get back to destroying my template with my Neanderthal html skills, kthxdie.
Dear Multinational Retailer!
I'm sure it's a great program, my son just happens to go to a school where they provide all his materials so we won't be going to [your store] and there's no reason for me to blog about something we're not using, sorry.
I guess PR people don't like hearing from me as much as I don't like hearing from them:
Thank you for taking the time to respond to me. How convenient that the school provides materials.
Oooh, that sounds kind of snippy, doesn't it. I realize my frustration is kind of petty, but it's not flattering to get this sort of attention, it's stupid and I'd like it to stop. I suppose I'll have about as much success at making that happen by writing a long and listless complaint like this as I did when I thought flipping off guys who harassed me in the street would shame men everywhere into renouncing their sense of entitlement toward unfamiliar women's tits. And look how well that worked out.
Well, it's either that or take out these moods on Jack, and I'd rather not destroy my marriage over [giant retailer's] crazy dayz bargain lunchbox dealz.