Being a copywriter has to be a tough gig at times. Like sewage workers tending to the waste of the non-rich, I’d imagine that some writers slave away at jobs that are not all that thrilling. For every scribe that gets attached to Apple or Jersey Shore bobbleheads, there are those that give up their talents and youth at a Jersey Shore bobblehead maker. (It’s a gift and a curse.)
Sometimes there is a breaking point, a snapping of will that puts even the hardiest of personalities on edge. And I believe that happened to the Sears online copywriter who wrote this page:
The creation of this web page probably reads like a Karen Carpenter song set to words:
Trying to not feel the soul-crushing pain of writing copy that gets young men amped up to buy K-Mart jeans, he or she revisited their lost years in the sex industry with good old friend cocaine. After dismounting from the White Horse, they chased the powder with a fifth of Crown Royal — handy as the velvet bag is good for storing drugs AND alcohol.
The combination got them ready to hammer out lines like “Route 66 Men’s Five Pocket Bootcut Jeans Pant with Chain” before stumbling around all angry, looking for another bottle of booze to construct the second sentence. Settling for a half-empty bottle of mouthwash (good for throwing coworkers off the alcoholism trail), they sigh heavily before pounding out the ditty, “His laidback bootcut jean has an edgy look with a pocket chain.”
Reading back those words, they realize that those shattered dreams of making their parents proud are long in the rearview mirror. “‘Laidback bootcut jean?’ ‘Edgy look?’ THIS is why Christmas is the worst time of year for me! Who wants to chime in with THIS SHIT in the yearly family newsletter?”
Spotting their bloodshot eyes in a pocket mirror on their desk, the stark, depressing reality of how far their life had fallen makes the desk a cold yet comfortable pillow. BUT NOT YET! There is more to write!
Stumbling forward into their laptop screen, they slowly shake off the invisible cobwebs and soldier on:
- Zipper description — check
- Pocket chain…
“DAMMIT, REALLY? What kind of douchebag wants a pocket chain? ARRGH…” A capful of mouthwash slips over the side of the desk. It wouldn’t be the last.
- Pocket chain — check
- Material description…
“Cotton blend? Couldn’t spring for quality materials, eh jerkstore shopper? Jokes on you!” The first tastes of bile greet their throat.
- Cotton blend — check
- Laundry instructions — check
- Place of origin…
“Imported? IMPORTED? Damn foreigners, taking our jobs…”
- Place of origin — check
By this time, the computer screen is a blurry haze of white. (Luckily, this writer has a good copyeditor that shares the writer’s secret use of drugs in exchange for the occasional sexual tryst in the storage closet.) Remembering that tangy taste in their throat like that on-and-off ex they hate/know so well, they rush the rest of the details and bang a quick e-mail to the editor with the rough draft. (For content purposes, we will avoid the graphic details of that exchange.)
Perhaps the sad song of the copywriter’s life can be summed up in two words, the same that describe the color of the jeans: Silver Haze. This wasn’t a lark, for the monotonous, day-in/day-out of schlepping copy for one of the saddest department stores’ website has to be accomplished in some sort of chemically-induced fogs.
“And now you know the rest of the story.”