Hire Pasha, already

It’s a sign of the internet era. A week, maybe two weeks ago, I noticed an ingenious billboard put up along the I-95 northbound corridor near Bridgeport. It was the photo of a beautiful African-American woman in business casual dress, with the words, “Hire me! Unemployed and seeking employment. www.hirepasha.com” on it.

Ingenious. The website isn’t bad either.

But that internet era demand for instant gratification means that (sorry Pasha) I’m already thinking, “That idea was so five minutes ago,” every time I drive past it. It’s not Pasha that I’m frustrated with, it’s the marketing industry as a generalized whole.

Pasha stands head and shoulders (and billboard) out from the crowd simply because of her ingenuity, tenacity, and ability to cut through the daily babble of marketing messages with a valid Drive-to-Web effort. She is, effectively, creating a brand for herself, and bringing that brand to market. When I checked the site this morning, she was up to 60K hits.

Not too shabby, even if her resume is a little light in the actual marketing experience. By comparison, my blogging attracts only 2-10 hits every time I post (yeah, working on getting back into the regular posting habit now that work is becoming more predictable).

Think about it, folks. Unless Pasha turns out to be a troll in real life, which is always possible, go with the lady who’s got the skills to turn her own unknown self into a regional brand that got national attention (hey, she showed up as a news story on my Wii News channel). AND someone who is savvy enough to understand how to integrate traditional media and digital media together.

So, like… Hire Pasha already.  Or at the very least go visit her website and give her enough traffic to begin charging for advertising.

Hired!

Today I accepted an offer from an interactive company to come on board with them as a Project Manager. I’m quite thrilled, although the reality of it still hasn’t hit yet. Intellectually I know I’ve got the job, but the economic climate is such that it’s going to take a while before I fully relax and accept the reality of this new development. I’ve crossed the finish line of the qualifying race, and I just can’t let myself stop running yet. Like someone is going to take it away before it manifests. There is a whole heap of gratitude I need to process through before I can begin to approach relief. And I’m suddenly oddly aware of the sheer stress I’ve been carrying, as I contemplate dropping it.