This would be the story of my awkward entrance into social media. Technically, it happened...without my consent? Not sure how to word that properly. The director of DoggoneExpress decided to start an online funding page. He's not active on facebook. He's not active on twitter, Instagram, Google+ or LinkedIn. If there's a blind mole rat of the internet, it's my darlin' Bill. So he must've talked to some toolbox who said, "Oh, you need to raise funds? Use the internet!" So, he started a gofundme page, got one donation for $100 immediately from one of our partner veterinarians, and thought it would be a landslide of cash to fund our programs. Shocking news. It was not. I was informed of the initiative, along with four other people, through an email.
I monitored the account for a few days, and when his updates became pleading, I decided to take it over. What does that mean? Consistent posting on Twitter (ouch). Consistent posting on LinkedIn (ugh). Starting a Pinterest page (Stop! It burns!!!). Consistent posting updates on the gofundme page (no biggie, no one is going there). In essence, putting it out there to back-peddle market an internet, non-profit campaign. This is NOT my comfort zone or expertise, and if there was ever anything in marketing that was going to challenge me, this was my Everest.
So I started simply, posting pictures of our inmates training our dogs, creating an "advert" post. It was lame. This was Wednesday. When Friday came, I thought, "Let's have some fun with this." But it made me really nervous. So ridiculous, right? Internet thoughts are so fleeting, and there's so much inappropriate shit out there, which is exactly why this whole experience makes me incredibly uncomfortable.
But, now that I'm having so much fun creating concepts, content and designs, it's something I look forward to each day. I'm coming around on all of the platforms...except Facebook. I'm trying to think of a situation dire enough to make me join that cesspool, and I can't come up with one. In the meantime, I'll keep hammering away, and if I succeed at this? I might treat myself to a bottle of Pappy. Cheers.