This is the Snarky Sunday edition of Snarky Senior — the newsletter from Erica Manfred, which you can read about here. If you like it and don’t want to miss an issue, you can get it in your inbox by subscribing.
I coulda been a contender. I coulda been somebody, instead of a bum. Marlon Brando’s character moans to his brother, in “On the Waterfront.”
That’s how I felt when I almost became an “influencer.”
I was just a lowly freelance writer who coulda been a contender. I didn’t know that I’d always wanted to be an influencer until the possibility was dangled before me.
Now that it’s fallen through I am distraught. My chance at making a real difference in the world of cutting edge discount cell phone plans for seniors seems but a pipe dream.
Here’s how it happened.
I got a call out of the blue one morning from somebody whose first name was a day of the week. Let’s call her Saturday.
(When did days of the week became trendy names for girls? Maybe it was when parents started naming their kids after boroughs. I have friend who named her daughter Brooklyn which I thought was extremely odd at the time, but at least she wasn’t Tuesday.)
“How would you like to write a blog about the new cell phone plan for seniors that our company is rolling out?” Saturday asks me, naming a cell company who happens to be my very own cell provider and one of the big three. .
As a lowly freelance writer I’ve written many blog posts for companies. I try to get a few hundred bucks for them but these days we freelance writers are so numerous and so desperate that fifty bucks is usually the going rate. But since I am just about the only writer I know of who specializes in writing about technology for seniors, maybe being a Snarky Senior was actually a more valuable commodity than I realized.
“How did you find me?” I asked.
“Oh, our team noticed the graphic you had on your Substack newsletter of the old woman giving the finger. We all loved your attitude.”
“How much does it pay?” I ask.
“Ten.” Saturday responds nonchalantly.
“Ten dollars?” I squeaked in shock and horror. Working conditions in the blogosphere for writers must be worse than I thought.
“No, ten thousand dollars,” she responded matter-of-factly.
I was stunned. So this is what it must be like to be important, be someone whose voice matters, who actually gets paid real money to shill for corporate America instead of shilling for pennies. People throw real money at you. Finally, I’d hit the big time.
And not a minute too soon considering my age and life expectancy
“Really,” I couldn’t stifle my shock. “Why me?
“You’re an influencer. You represent Snarky Seniors.”
I puffed up proudly. “Yes, I guess I do. So what do I have to do for that?” I asked her.
“Just write a blog post that mentions the company’s new senior plan and post it on social media.”
“I can do that,” I responded.
“I have lots of tales to tell about my experiences in your company’s local store,” I told her. I didn’t mention my complaints that there are no chairs and you have to stand while you’re being helped. And that the salespeople treat you like you a moron because you’re old.
“I’ll make it funny, ” I promised.
“Great, she said, I’ll call you back with the details.”
I spent the day buying new furniture in my head. A leather couch I thought, with recliner seats and maybe a new dining room set to replace my beat up table and chairs. Maybe an adjustable bed so I could watch TV it sitting up. And a new TV.
The next day she called me back.
“I am soooo sorry she said. Actually their entire budget is $10,000. So all I can offer you is $2,000.”
“How about $3,000?” I countered. I would have been perfectly happy with the $2,000 but it was a long way down from $10,000. What did I have to lose asking for more?
“I’ll have to get back to you on that” she replied. “Just send me an email telling me where you plan to promote the post. How many followers do you have by the way?” Saturday wanted to know.
I dithered. This is where it got sticky. I’m not exactly Kim Kardashian in the follower department. My newsletter subscriptions are stuck in the high 3 figures, my Facebook friends in the low 4 figures, and that’s about it. I do post my newsletter articles on a couple of Facebook groups with over 20,000 members but does anyone read them? Who knows?
I followed up with an email emphasizing my popularity on Facebook. I didn’t mention Twitter and Instagram where I am a nonentity. .
She called back the next day.
“How about writing it for nothing?” she asked.
“Whaaaaaat? Ten thousand to nothing?” I said incredulously. “Why would I do that?” I’d been low-balled by clients before but this was rather brazen.
“Exposure,” she whimpered.
To her credit, she then apologized profusely and told me she had made a mistake about the money because she had personal problems. It seems she was in the middle of a nasty divorce from her bi-polar husband. I softened. I have a lot more sympathy for women going through nasty divorces than I have for flaky PR ladies which she obviously was. I recommended she buy my book, He’s History you’re Not; Surviving Divorce after Forty. She said she’d buy the Kindle immediately
The last communication I got from her was an email saying “I’m sorry you went through that.”
I think she was referring to my getting dumped by a younger woman which I’d written about in my book. But I was over that years ago. She should have meant getting my hopes up about fame and fortune as an influencer.
I’m not giving up. If Fran Lebowitz can be an influencer and she doesn’t even have a cell phone, there’s hope for me. After all, my moniker is the Geezer Geek. I even write a column about technology for SeniorPlanet.org, an AARP affiliate.
I just need to charm a few celebrities and get on TV.
Spread the snark!
If you know someone who doesn’t take themselves too seriously and might enjoy some snark in their inbox once or twice a week, forward this newsletter their way. You can subscribe (and link to it) here. Email me anytime at Askerica@gmail.com. Suggestions and feedback welcome.