I straightened myself and jumped right back in. “Agri-Corp is a legacy brand with unmatched quality; however, our market research shows a growing perception disconnect between the brand and the rising generation of farmers. Your social media presence, while growing, has a low engagement rate, an average of four likes per post.”
Micky grunted. “My daughter does those.”
I was right, no surprise there.
“She’s fourteen, she knows all about that social site.”
It took me a minute to decipher what he meant. Because she was fourteen, she was a social media expert, regardless of the age of the subject of the posts. I nodded. “And while I think she is doing a fantastic job, I do have some insights I’d like to discuss moving forward.” I took a breath. “Your brand currently feels like an institution when we need it to feel like a partner.”
More unsatisfied grunts. I struck a nerve. Not offending these men was going to be the hardest part of my assignment.
I glanced at my notes in front of me, doing my best not to read off the papers. “To fix this, we’re not going to be running a campaign;we’regoing to be running an immersion strategy. My job is to embed myself with the National Rodeo Tour to generate three core assets that will redefine the brand.”
I was losing them, I could feel it. And to make matters worse, in the arena, they were beginning to play loud music to get the crowd warmed up as they wandered inside. I flipped myfirst poster around.
In big bold letters, it said,Authenticity through storytelling. “We need video case studies of real rodeo stars and stock owners using Agri-Corp equipment in their daily lives. Not stock footage, not A.I., authentic content.”
For some reason, I glanced at Dennis, who was still grinning and leaning forward to read the poster. The rest of the men were fiddling with their cups or napkins.
I flipped the next one.Digital Relevance. “I will generate new, high-quality media designed specifically for each social media platform, where the next generation of buyers are making purchase decisions.”
Micky cleared his throat again. “My daughter does all this.”
And we were back to the subject I thought we had avoided. I pointed at him. “You are exactly right, however, as I am getting paid to do this for you, I feel it may be unfair for your daughter to do this for free.”
Thompson shook his head and itched his bald head under his cap. “We pay her five dollars a post.”
Oh dear, now we were breaking child labor laws. My brain did cartwheels trying to figure out the best way to pacify Micky for the time being. “Well, if she is going to be around for the tour, I would love to sit down with her and teach her some things about marketing to specific audiences.”
Nobody responded, so I moved on and flipped over the last board.
Experiential Marketing. “We need physical interaction. I’ll develop concepts for a mobile demonstration unit at the events. This will allow attendees to physically interactwith your product. A demo ride, if you will.”
The plan was on the table; they could take it or leave it, but as Micky and Thompson kept glancing toward the music, I knew they would agree just to shut me up and get to their rodeo.
I passed around personalized manila folders with each step of my plan, including all the additional details I knew they were not interested in reading. “This is a team effort. While I do have the marketing expertise, I lack the essential knowledge of rodeo logistics and the day-to-day operations of your equipment. That’s where you come in. If you have any ideas, thoughts, or anything that you think will help your company thrive, I’d love to hear them. My card is in your folder, so feel free to call me anytime. For now, I’ll let you enjoy the rodeo, and we’ll be in touch!”
Thompson raised his hand. “Legra?”
“Yes?” My back was soaked in sweat, and my left ear had begun to ring. I needed some caffeine and a chair, but there was no time. The rodeo was going to start in half an hour.
“What rodeo circuit will you be traveling with?”
Not a clue, but I was supposed to be the person with all the answers, so I glanced at my itinerary. “Looks like I’m hitting the highlights of as many as I can. But I will be there for the qualifying rounds and the NFR, of course. Thank you, gentlemen.”
They got up and practically rushed the door, all except Dennis. He stopped beside me, helping me gather my papers. “That was wonderful.”
I glanced up as I shoved my posters back into my briefcase. “Oh, thank you, Mr. Nash. I appreciate your feedback.”
He handed me the papers he had straightened for me and leaned back, crossing his arms casually. “I hope you don’t take the boys’ lack of interest personally. Our company has been stalled for two years now, and I was getting nervous. I suggested we get some help with our marketing, and it took a long time for them to get on board. They’re old-fashioned.”
Really? I hadn’t noticed. “That’s kind of you to say, but there are few people who are genuinely interested in a marketing presentation.”
“I was! You did great, and I really think you’re going to help us go from where we are to where we need to go.” He put his hand on my shoulder.
I glanced at it, and he dropped it. “Any tips for the gentlemen as we move forward?” I said with a small laugh.
He laughed and opened the door for me. “Unless it’s about harvest, animals, or gettin’ to watch the rodeo, they won’t listen. Just do your thing. We trust you. Are you headin’ over to watch the show?”
