I had barely hit “send” on my last post when Zee, ever the critic, called me on it. I mean, she’s penned a gallery of fire-breathing missives about shoddy products, clueless congressmen, and writers who wouldn’t recognize a plot if it slapped them in the face. What did she get for her literary fireworks? Coupons, autographed pictures (whoop-de-doo), and a condescending reply suggesting she “just didn’t get it.” All very… underwhelming.
While Zee’s letters were the stuff of legend, mine? Not so much. Blame my engineering background. While she paints with words, I see the world as dry force vectors and force multipliers. Exciting, right?
“What’s a force vector?” you ask, trying to suppress a yawn. Picture a push – with magnitude, duration, and direction. But who cares about that? Here’s the juicy bit: Zee’s fiery letters, passionate as they were, barely caused a ripple in the vast ocean of corporate America or in the echoing halls of Congressman egos. What we need are force multipliers to turn that ripple into a tidal wave.
Writing a letter? Cute. But a scathing, well-worded review on Amazon? Now you’re cooking with gas! That review becomes a roaring fire when it’s plastered all over social media. Get more people on your snarky bandwagon, and you’ve got an inferno.
Taking a page from my friend Jeff’s playbook, let’s chat about Schick’s shaving gel. I trust Jeff’s opinion more than my coffee machine, and that’s saying something. His disdainful comment on Google is pure gold. But by echoing his sentiment here, I’m not just doubling down—I’m turning it into an epic roast.
Remember Jeff’s grumble? Schick, in their infinite wisdom, swapped a solid design for a travel dispenser so flawed it might as well squirt out confetti. New Coke, anyone?
So, you get the drift? You might be blissfully unaware of Schick’s design fiasco, but a few zesty reviews could be the difference between “Add to Cart” and “Yeah, maybe not.” If you stumble upon both Jeff’s gem and my snarky addition? Schick doesn’t stand a chance. Twenty such comments, and Schick might as well retire their disastrous dispenser. Ah, the beauty of a force multiplier.
One sassy comment? A blip. Twenty snark-filled reviews? A revolution. Granted, some thick-skulled companies might not budge regardless of the shade thrown their way. But hey, at least your razor-sharp comments might inspire their smarter competitors.
Why the fuss? Because social media is our stage, and I’m tired of its spotlight being hogged by folks who probably find IKEA manuals too challenging. We’ve got similar drama queens in politics, and from my prime seat, I watch them turn our democracy into their personal reality show.
Here’s the ultimatum: Sit quiet and let the divas and drama kings run wild or throw in your own spicy two cents. Vent out, it’s therapeutic. Maybe if more people added their snark, we wouldn’t have this circus they call Congress. Too many silent saints letting the loud jesters drive us to comedic catastrophe.
Your move. As for me? I’m over these laughable designs, dime-a-dozen authors, and politicians with egos bigger than their IQ, I’m speaking out.
© 2023, Byron Seastrunk. All rights reserved.