Before Facebook, Twitter, Google+ and other social media platforms, brands had to pay loads of money to market themselves.
They had to find companies whose sole business was marketing and PR. These had the skills, contacts and people to do ad campaigns, adverts and press releases. It took time. It took money. Reach was localised. Feedback loops were long.
We’re living in very interesting times for marketers. Anyone can market themselves. Social media has made it accessible and affordable. Reach is global. Feedback loops are short – immediate even!
All the specialist info someone needs is on the internet – just google and there’s a plethora of sites and blogs willing to provide info for free.
Anyone can create a video of their product and upload it to YouTube. Anyone can figure out how to make a an article, video or image go viral. Anyone can be a marketer.
A booming honk. I jump out of my skin. Through the rearview mirror I see a purple 18-wheeler, it’s windows blacked out.
“How did they find me…?”
I pick up speed, trying to outrun it. My little car’s engine screams in protest.
The T-junction comes up suddenly. Left or right? I glimpse at the maps app on my tablet – it’s not updating. The voice in my head mocks “I told you, there’s no cell phone signal in the middle of nowhere.”
I pump the brakes, down-gear, execute a perfect handbrake turn to the right. The back of the car fishtails as I accelerate. More cornfields on both sides of the road. All that food, for nothing, what a shame.
The 18-wheeler also turns right and thunders behind me, too close for safety, its trailer swinging wildly behind it!
“You can’t hide in the middle of nowhere!”, the voice in my head continues mocking, “they always find you. Better to be at The Hide.”
I pat my pocket to assure myself that the flash disk is still there. How archaic to still put things on flash disks. The boffins at The Hide will decipher it and end this nightmare.
Or must the nightmare end so that I can reach The Hide?
Reality swims in and out of my consciousness. I smell sweet almond tart. In the rearview mirror the purple 18-wheeler disappears in sticky vapour.
As I descend into un-consciousness a disembodied voice comes from the radio, “Beware all units. 30 year old white female, armed and dangerous, driving a purple 18-wheeler has been spotted on highway 99. Do not approach. I repeat. Do. Not. Approach!”
Author's note: Story inspired by one of my favourite authors of all time - Phillip K. Dick!
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Mozambican-born Portuguese South African; reflecting on travel, writing, editing, life, family and change that has social impact; chief wide eyed in wanderer, wonderer and bottlewasher
