You convince yourself the extra nine minutes of sleep was of value, swiping your phone to silence. You open Twitter, that #microbrand service we have all come to know and love and now rely on for sustenance, and see what has transpired while your personal brand was in obscurity mode.
Alas, this quest for information is a failure. A fast foot restaurant is bringing back a meat “delicacy.” Some underwear brand has done a charity stunt with #problematic elements, and the angry sub-brands are firing back and forth in the replies thread, amassing favs and retweets. New brands are being built and old brands are being reinforced over the empty shells of brands which require new social media officers to roll out new engagement strategies.
Your morning erection that was bothering you for some experiential activity has faded; a forgotten opportunity to brighten your mood and make you more open to potential brand awareness opportunities. Your #wearable tweets out your brand’s current and now fully awakened state of mind, informing the world you wish it was some other day of the week.
Alas, nobody sees this, as you are but a lowly sub-brand, just waiting to bloom into a sphere of influence. You consider spending the $1.99 to “Promote” this tweet so that it might gain some impressions between the flood of competing tweets trying to sell you a new wearable or a new downloadable content pack for a certain AAA shooter franchise installment. You feel as if your brand could tap into the conversation centered around this entertainment product, you might become more relevant to influencers in the hopes of one day yourself influencing the masses you share fleshworld with, working routines that are necessary, but unadmired and lacking effective engagement potential in this new hashtag centered neo-economy.
You take your morning #piss, and your #wearable reminds you that in the end, everything is #piss. The weird gulags of trashmen that flood the brandwaves are inescapable - too unmotivated to contribute to destroying this hellhole, they seek only to “disrupt,” and in the end, are simply oil in the brand machine.
You consider breakfast, only to realize that a selfie with a corporate fried egg muffin might get you retweeted by a popular fast food joint. To be seen is to be #relevant, and to be retweeted is to be #interconnected. You decide to grab your meal on the go.
You step out of your lower middle class apartment and are greeted by hashtag advertising assaults, as far as the eye can see. They never cease to try and engage you, instructing you to join the #social as to rack up numbers on a brand officer’s quarterly report, in the hopes that this manufactured relevance will justify a significant return on investment to a coked out Chief Marketing Officer who has been left behind by this curated wave of information overload, hiding in his office with a laptop that runs nothing but OpenEmu and a hacked rom of Pokemon Ultraviolet.
Your eyes burn, depressed to see your city ruined. You try to look up at the sky, but a flood of drones overhead ruin the view, running packages of delicacies to upper middle class people lucky enough to take advantage of these somehow consistently new startups, or broadcasting holo-ads with relevant hashtag advertising. Your very view of the physical world has been #curated for your personal brand experience. You try to tweet from your Twitter enabled glasses, but can’t seem to concentrate enough to walk down the crowded sidewalk and avoid stumbling into one of the dirty Pre-Brands intermixed up and down the block, begging for the hopes of attaining a single Bitcoin, the only remnant of any sort of real currency after the dollar and Euro were phased out by the Favstar.
"People" they like to be called, so few and far between. #Shame on them. So much potential as a brand to really be something. Yet they hold on to some childish ideal of "individuality," thinking they’re above us all. Egotistical bastards. You consider snapping one and submitting them to a shame blog, so that you and your circle of fellow brands can share in a good laugh. They might even go #viral, and picked up by a relevant brand looking to take advantage of their image in an upcoming promotion! You could be giving them the ticket to freedom by taking this creepshot! Alas, it’s a no-lose situation, right? You sneak a photo and beginning trying to think of a witty caption on your way to the next great brand enabled breakfast down the street.
You don’t even see it coming when a grey cylinder clocks you clean upside the head - some hot new startup on the verge of disruption is attempting a forced brand #takeover of the city square. The smoke grenade knocks you off your feet, and your glasses fly off, immediately alerting the local authorities of their #displacement and how many moments you’re losing potential #impressions on. Your naked eyes tear up at the smoke as you struggle to remember what pocket you left your smartphone in, so that you can promote an automatic tweet asking for assistance from the local private security contractor.
A mine resistant ambush protected vehicle (MRAP) rolls in through the massive cloud of smoke that has taken over the urban sphere. Genderless figures in black riot gear from head to toe hang off the side, a four character hashtag is spray painted in white on their chest. One jumps off the side and runs to you.
You throw your hands in the air to try and cover your face from whatever threat stands in front of you. They silently grab your wrist and shove a cold, iced metal can into your hand. You feel the cold, refreshing product giving you newfound power to your brand, as you try to focus your disconnected eyes.
It appears to be some sort of a new energy drink, a “lifehack,” that has been #curated into your dietary experience by a corporate marketing team of self-described “ninjas” with a budget to burn, attempting to force relevancy through a takeover “event.”
After increasing product awareness, the brand officers in black return to their marketing delivery platform, and are whisked from the cloud of disruption, to return to their Cloud-enabled workstations and monitor brand penetration in real time.
As the smoke clears, you take a second to sit against the wall and catch your breath. You press the mildly less chilled beverage against your forehead, attempting to recover your senses with one hand, as you tweet out with the appropriate hashtag in the other, expressing distaste with the crassness of this energy drink brand’s courage to stand out in a crowded market.
A fellow brand attempts to DM you support, before you can see it your notifications blow up as your tweet is sourced in a prominent tech journalism blogpost. As they start cashing in on pageviews with what is technically your content, you try to tweet to them a request to take it down. Sadly the overflow of mentions from their latest report bury any chance of acknowledging your plea for personal brand control.
New brands impressed with your sub-brand journalism begin to follow you, sadly only about a half dozen. Realizing that the day isn’t a total waste, you sigh and try to consider any future opportunities to forward your brand’s relevance further. The concentrated brain activity sends an alert to your cloud enabled phone, reminding you to drink your newly acquired asset product.
Opening the can, you take a sip and swallow. Reflexively, your body begins to convulse and shake in horror and disgust.
Of course it’s piss. Carbonated goat piss, to be specific.
Everything is piss.