The dairy farmer hates dairy
By Alex Feldman, Senior Copywriter
So he takes a sip of his milk fresh from his cow’s teat, swooshes it around in his mouth, then spits it out in his metal bucket full of dip spit. He will never swallow it or enjoy any other dairy products. He never tries the yogurt, cheese, ice cream, or even straight-up milk of his competitors. When he does his taste test on his own products, it is with no concept of the market. He only makes his milk to his liking, and is steadfast in his belief of what milk should be in terms of taste, consistency, and probably a million other things that he thinks of that we can’t.
Nobody knows why he won’t consume dairy. The taste? Maybe. Or there’s the possibility that it doesn’t agree with his body. Still, it’s his business, and he’s spent years perfecting his ideal dairy. He’s changed his cattle’s diets innumerable times, switching the hay-to-grass ratio and the types of hay and grass, and adding other ingredients like sunflower seeds and silage. Like any other good dairy farmer, he has been wary to NEVER allow his cattle to eat weeds because weeds can TAINT the taste of a cow’s milk.
His distributors stop by from time to time to see how he’s doing, and they never fail to mention a new technology or strategy that a competitor is using to optimize his business. It usually has to deal with production on a larger scale. “To hell with them,” he grunts. He is only focused on making the best milk, and he feels he knows exactly how to do so.
The dairy farmer isn’t stupid. He knows his methods will get phased out one day at the expense of his idea of quality. He just goes on doing what he does, willing to take it as it is–and see how it goes.
I don’t have a TV in my room, and my computer stays at work most nights. I’ve been published as a writer with lines like “A bad commercial can ruin my day,” and “Living in a world where nothing is ever turned off can drive a man insane.”
Just the other day I was talking to a beautiful girl in a bar (rare occurrence) when my phone started incessantly vibrating in my pocket. Someone was sending text after text, 3-7 words a piece (because thoughts rarely come in full sentences nowadays), and it was distracting the piss outta me. Not a big deal, I know, and I ignored it as best I could, but on my walk home I realized people have too much access, and by having that in my pocket I may as well be hanging out on a fenceless lawn—reachable and approachable at all times.
So, now I’m getting rid of my cell phone. If any of you older folk feel like digging in your attic for a dusty landline and donating it to me, I would greatly appreciate it. Despite the digital age, I like to slow down. For anyone who wants to hang out, you may have to call me on a Monday for Thursday plans. (Crazy, right?) But if you need me immediately, give it a shot and call. I may not be home when you do. Maybe won’t even be home for a few nights, but when I do get home I’ll see your message, and I’ll be way happier to speak to you when I call back.
As far as my job in the digital space goes, I realIy enjoy it, and I do it well. I know what we’re selling. For better or for worse, I’ve grown up in a time when it’s hard to avoid digital media, and I surely have my ideas and theories for what works best in this space. Although I don’t consume any digital media or ads, I will still continue to attempt to perfect what I believe is ideal in digital marketing, and I’ll take it as it is–and see how it goes. Instead of the market deciding if they like my product.