I had a dream about six minutes ago that I was leading the marketing team for something called the “You’ll Always Know” home pregnancy test.
In the dream, the “You’ll Always Know” name had become a huge point of contention between my team and the Head Researcher who’d created the test.
Their argument was that the name was an awful marketing hook, since it implied that a woman always knows if she’s pregnant, and doesn’t need the test at all – she should just call her Baby Doctor and get started with her professional care.
As I loosened my tie down for purposes of dramatic flair, I explained that none of that mattered, since “You’ll Always Know” simply sounds like the name of a pregnancy test.
We began to throw things, including, but limited to test tubes, lab coats, and the Research Assistant’s cat.
“What’s that cat doing in the lab?” The CEO of our corporation had just arrived after being alerted by his lover. “There’s a sign right there that says you can’t have cats in the lab!”
(Take a breath, because everything you know about always knowing you’re pregnant is about to change.)
“Because I’m pregnant!”
A young Research Assistant crawled out from under a desk. She was bleeding from her head, thanks to an errant wine glass that had been thrown by my top marketing researcher.
He was an alcoholic, but did his best marketing research when we encouraged and fed his addictions. We’d tried to several times to get him addicted to oranges, but damn it all, that man loved boxed wine.
The Research Assistant stepped forward and draped a fallen Corporate Logo Flag over her shoulders, trying to stand tall, despite the burgeoning fetus that pulled and gnawed at her ability to assert proper posture.
“And have you always known you were pregnant?”
I’d seen my window and taken it. Everyone started combing their hair. The CEO was crying, perhaps about the multiple lawsuits his company could see from the Marketing Team encouraging alcoholism. Perhaps not.
“Yes…always. Even before I was.”
I nodded my head to that stubborn SOB of a Head Researcher, who’d now revealed himself as left-handed. Of course he was. The Research Assistant wasn’t done.
“But…I still took a test.” She saluted an air conditioning vent. The subtext was clear. “Our test. The You’ll Always Know Prototype 4BD.7.”
That’s when I woke up and started writing this.
It wasn’t in the dream, but another thing I wanted to do was call it a “Mobile Pregnancy Long-Form Essay Examination” instead of a “Home Pregnancy Test”.
My point would be that if we’re going to set ourselves apart, let’s make “apart” like “way, way, way over there”.
We could have a tagline like “The Pregnancy Test For On-the-Go Intellectuals”.
I’m sure lefty in the lab would’ve hated that, but it’s a real market niche that to my knowledge nobody’s tapping.