Writing corporate video scripts can be boring, so I’ve always made it a point to throw in some private joke, merely to keep myself amused.
For a period of time in the late 1980s, I often included the phrase “Tierra del Fuego and the Aleutian Islands” in scripts I wrote for Humongous Electronics Company (HEC).
The amusement factor was based upon finding a way to include this phrase in a video about computers, networks, hardware redundant fault tolerance, or storage systems.
Lower hanging fruit was inclusion of the name of Rolling Stones guitarist Keith Richards. In various scripts for HEC and other clients, reference would be made to product manager Keith Richards, Professor Keith Richards, Command Master Sergeant Keith Richards etc.
I should explain that most of the scripts were not nuts and bolts, engineering-centric catalogues of features and benefits, but, rather, “dramatic” scenarios targeting an internal audience such as sales or marketing.
Early on, I managed to convince internal clients that a humorous treatment was far more effective than a “straight” approach.
I did this by citing bogus statistical studies conducted by entirely fictitious academic authorities, e.g., Director Keith Richards of the prestigious Center for Advanced Communications Analysis (CACA) at Oxford University.
Securing buy-in for a humor-based approach provided me absolute freedom to have as much fun as I wished, as long as I fulfilled the primary communications objectives established by the client.
In any event, references to “Tierra del Fuego and the Aleutians” were so seamlessly woven into my narratives as to elude unfavorable notice, let alone comment.
All this was fairly routine and good for a private chuckle at my own cleverness. I achieved an entirely different level of chicanery in a script for Yamashita-Borman Pharmaceuticals (YBP).
The assignment was to highlight the legal pitfalls in improperly incentivizing busy physicians to sit still for a sales pitch, an effort easily thwarted by fiercely loyal and quite ferocious gatekeepers, who were usually long-tenured executive secretaries.
The incentives could range from Super Bowl tickets for doctors to a fifteen-piece truffles gift box for the secretary, in addition to the trail of pens, promotional literature and desk calendars salespeople would routinely leave in their wake.
In crafting a dialogue about two reps discussing how to soften a particularly impenetrable secretary with chocolates and tchotchkies, I threw “entrenching tools” into the mix, working on the theory that the client-side reviewers would be unfamiliar with the term.
EXT. MEDICAL BUILDING PARKING LOT – DAY
Car pulls into visitor space. Millennium Sales rep
(identified as such by a Millennium loose leaf folder in
her hand) ANGELIQUE WAGNER exits the car. She reaches into
the back seat and takes out a beautifully wrapped box of
expensive chocolates. She gazes off toward the building and
composes her features into a warm, friendly expression
before striding confidently toward the forbidding edifice.
She notices a figure (STAN KRAYBILL) exiting the building
and heading in her direction carrying a loose-leaf folder
with company name ACME Pharmaceuticals with their tagline
“Ask me about ACME!” They wave recognition and stop to
chat. By their demeanor, it is obvious that they are
friendly if wary competitors.
ANGELIQUE
(gesturing up at the office
with her head)
So, what kind of mood is she in?
STAN
Like a caged lion. Keep’er fed, she’s OK.
STAN nods approvingly at the chocolates.
STAN
Good thinking. But don’t forget the tchotchkes – she’s gaga for logos. Pens. Pads. Mugs. Keychains. Entrenching tools.
ANGELIQUE nods thoughtfully and smiles at STAN.
ANGELIQUE
Tchotchkes. Thanks!
The dialogue as written found its way into the final cut and, to the best of my knowledge, was never edited out. Apparently, it caught no one’s attention, except, I hope, for the few employees with a military background who were, I confidently assume, suitably amused.
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