As a marketing whiz
you know how to sell,
you bring in members
and do your job well.

You’re looking for ways
to increase exposure,
you recite regulations
and lending disclosure.

It’s not for marketing
but you can’t refuse,
yours is the budget
other people will use.

You pay for promotions
so it’s not a surprise,
that you should also
buy office supplies.

You put logos on
this and that,
extending your brand
is where it’s at.

You select tchotchkes,
and because you must,
it’s two cases of imprinted
pens or bust.

You stay up to date
with marketing trends,
acquiring more followers
and Facebook friends.

The social media craze
is now here to stay,
so there you are tweeting
and posting each day.

Your attire is nice
but can only reflect,
the corporate colors
which you didn’t select.

It does take talent
and really is hard,
to develop a great
direct mail postcard.

The promotion is genius
but it’s really a shame,
if growth stays flat
and you get the blame.

Your brilliant idea
was no longer witty,
it always turns out bad
when designed by committee.

“It’s marketing’s fault”
fingers point to you,
“the rates are bad”
you attempt to argue.

But if there’s success
and a believable stat,
that marketing works
well...imagine that.

Your targeted message
is smart and funny.
but taken for granted
it also makes money.

Then loan officers
think you are a jerk,
because the promotion
just added more work.

Local demographics
are what you got wired,
but what if member data
is also required?

You would ask IT
but don’t get you started,
they always respond
as if you just farted.

Your request to them
never seem to go far,
that whole department
thinks you are bizarre.

Your job creeps in
to your private life,
and now it begins
to cause you strife.

Your family suggests
you work too hard,
but their concerns
you quickly discard.

You see the world
as but confirmation,
of what you learned
in your occupation.

Christmas cards
are now direct mail,
a nativity scene
is beautiful point of sale.

Sometime you can’t
just keep it all in,
and your family knows
that they just can’t win.

The kid’s rooms
are always a mess,
but you know how
to achieve success.

There will be drawings
for winners each week,
it’s hard to resist
this classic technique.

You tell them to hurry
they think you’re a loon,
they better start cleaning
this offer ends soon!

Result are achieved
though they complain,
it’s another successful
domestic campaign.

School presentations
are something you master,
but when you help out
it turns into disaster.

Your child would win
without any doubt,
if the science fair judged
on who really stood out.

Checking the others
you think it’s fine,
to critique their lack
of graphic design.

Other parents object,
but please, come on...
it’s so amateur
to be using crayon.

That 4th grade project
is the best they’ve seen,
with a conference booth
and a huge plasma screen.

Even your love life
can hardly cause a stir,
when dinner conversation
sounds like a marketing lecture.

The prices on menus
become an assessment,
as to which are the best
return on investment.

You know movies
can be a real treat,
but not when its
their advertising you critique.

You don’t mean to offend
when the date is through,
but you can’t help asking
if they’d recommend you.

Perhaps to coworkers
family members or friends,
but they do not promote you
and so the night ends.

Too focused on numbers
so there goes your chance,
next time you won’t
analyze a romance.

You decipher results
from any spreadsheet,
you live for deadlines
and new goals to meet.

You love your job
and show dedication,
but really could use
a nice long vacation.

Each little thing
you always record,
the smallest trends
just can’t be ignored.

When food is missing
throughout the house,
you survey the kids
and question your spouse.

You feel it’s important
to lead by a example,
but it seems a bit much
to get a fair sample.

You offer incentives.
and data is collected,
a theory develops...
it’s as you expected.

You gather the group
and present the facts,
to show why you’re short
12 cheesy poof snacks.

But there was an error
your youngest points out,
it’s line 12 on your chart
and on the dog’s snout.

His nose is orange
which you didn’t see,
so much for that
master’s degree.