Thursday, July 14, 2005

I think we just sold ad space to a cow.

This morning, a giant man dressed in a cow suit (or a regular-sized man dressed in a giant cow suit -- whatever) waltzes into our office bearing free breakfast. Never the kind of journalists to let, oh, I don’t know, ethics interfere with growling stomachs, we tuck into the spread. “Holy cow” and “milk it for all it’s worth” jokes ensue between bites. Camera phones are wielded with reckless abandon.

Hey! You know who’d get a kick out of this? The old E-and-P. He says he’s on his way. Just sit here behind his desk, in his freezing office, with the door closed. Familiarize yourself, Cow, with one of our fabulous publications, and wait it out. He’ll want to meet you and, uh, thank you for breakfast.

Thirty minutes later.... cow twiddles thumbs (hooves?) until the boss shows up. Then: explosive laughter, more “holy cow” jokes, passing out of free sandwiches and business cards, more explosive laughter (a ploy, I’m guessing, buying some time in which to come up with a quickie sales pitch), aaaaaaaand.... TIME!

“Let me tell you a little about myself,” the boss begins (here, I imagine, the cow just nods, and the man within closes his eyes for a little cownap, grateful -- for once -- for his furry armor.)

And then: “blah blah blah, we’re so spectacular, yadda yadda yadda, great work with the schools and the community, and so on and so on, my business partner and I (chortle), etc etc, and if you introduce any new menu items, we’d be more than happy to try them out.”

Brilliant. Journalistic integrity at its finest. And also? FREE BREAKFAST!