The short of it... 

By the end of this article, you're probably going to want to hire me to write advertising for you. Don't. I'm expensive, I'm tough to work and I miss deadlines. Instead, pay 1/100th of the price and purchase this guide. It's cheaper, it's easy to work through and it's reliable; you can access it 24/7. 

The long of it... 

I've been an advertising man for six going on seven years now. I use the term "advertising man" quite liberally here. I'm a far cry from the dashing men and women walking the halls of firms the likes of Ogilvy, Wieden + Kennedy and R/GA.

I'm Don Draper if Don Draper lost his straight razor, exchanged out his perfectly-tailored suits for oversized Carhart shirts and denim jeans and awoke one morning to find he was losing his hair at the same rate as Mr. Clean.

I only use the term "advertising man" because I'm a romantic that loathes the new-age terminology so often used to describe such roles: growth hacker, internet marketer, etc.  

And, I'd call myself a "copywriter" but as every copywriter knows, the day you start making a good living as a copywriter is the day you find yourself loathing the title altogether.

"Ehem! Excuse me, sir? It's 'writer' these days."

All that to say, I'm an "advertising man" that has woven words to sell chocolate chip cookies, ice cream, honeycomb, plant-based burgers, plant-based eggs, plant-based everything, sneakers, minted coins, jeans, sweatpants that look like jeans, diamonds, pills that make your dick as hard as diamonds –– I've got to stop using that line –– coffee table books, flavored lubricants, energy drinks, various modes of transportation, construction equipment, gin, vodka, bourbon, tequila, wine, psilocybin-infused chocolate and software; loads and loads of software. 

What I've found pushing these goodies with my pen is that, more times than not, folks tend to exchange their hard-earned money for what I've got to sell for one of two reasons...

Pleasure is interesting in that we always find ourselves wanting more of it while in the midst of experiencing it.

I hope this next example won't be lost on anyone, as I imagine it's safe to assume that most folks reading this newsletter have partaken in some form of fornication. 

Butt, what you've probably found fascinating about fornication –– and please pay notice to my exquisite use of alliteration in the past two sentences –– is that when it's been particularly pleasurable, you've probably had the following thought: I wouldn't mind doing this whole dance again, right after this.

Now, whether or not this is possible –– at least for the male members in the audience –– depends entirely on a very scientific term called "refractory period".

But, this isn't that kind of newsletter. 

All that to say, pleasure is extraordinarily easy to sell because consumers constantly want more of it (even when they are in the midst of enjoying it). So, they won't just buy it, they'll stock up on it to be sure they'll never run out; the same way your grandmother loaded up on ketchup and applesauce. 

From the above list of products I've sold, here's what I would consider to fall in the category of moving folks "closer to pleasure"...

As you can see, the list is long. A lot of the products sold on this planet –– and the virtual planet in your pocket –– are purchased to move oneself closer to pleasure.

Pleasure is a powerful thing. 

Some would argue that "pleasure" is what has kept the human race in such an abundant supply of, well, humans for thousands of years now. If making humans was as painful as pulling teeth, we'd have gone extinct centuries ago.

It turns out that God, Allah, the universe... whoever was so kind to create us, knew what the hell they were doing. 

Now, speaking of pulling teeth, let's pivot to the second reason folks tend to buy: to move further from pain. 

In the medieval ages, some sick sonofabitch came up with an extremely effective way to get folks to talk. 

They would tie someone up, place a rat on their stomach, place a container over the rat and then heat up the container with a torch: as the rat's environment became hotter, it would escape the heat –– moving further from pain –– by chewing through the victim's stomach. 

While I am no historian, I can't imagine the rat got more than one or two bites in before the torturer got the information he was looking for. If someone so much as threw a rat at me, I would voluntarily remove my pinky so long as they promised not to do it again. 

While this is a rather graphic metaphor, it goes to show why Advil –– not Tylenol or Excedrin or Motrin or Aleve but just Advil –– does somewhere between half a billion dollars and a billion dollars a year in sales. 

From the above list of products I've sold, here's what I would consider to fall in the category of moving folks "further from pain"...

Nobody ever purchased construction equipment because it was "pleasurable". They purchased it because digging holes with a shovel is miserable and a bull-dozer is essentially 2,500 shovels controlled by a couple of joysticks and foot pedals. 

Now, you'll also notice that there are a few products that have found themselves on both lists. This wasn't a fat-fingered typo by yours truly but me making the claim that some products –– we'll call them unicorns –– have a way of both moving folks "closer to pleasure" and "further from pain". 

Back in 2020, in the heat of the pandemic, global alcohol sales were 1.5 trillion dollars. If you're lucky enough to be in the business of selling unicorns, thank your lucky goddamn stars. 

The problem with unicorns, of course, is that more times than not they can be questionable from an ethics standpoint. 

As a "advertising man", sooner or later you have to ask yourself if just because you can sell something, should you? 

The fictional Don Draper made a hell of a lot of money selling Lucky Strikes but the cost was that there was an entire generation of children who never met their grandparents. 

But, I digress. 

By Cole Schafer. 

P.S. If you're new to Sticky Notes, you can subscribe here. 

Before hiring me, know what you're getting yourself into. 

If you'd like to hire this "advertising man", you can do that here.

I won't sell cigarettes, assault rifles or heroin. But, I will sell just about anything else, given that it's a good product that either –– "say it with me!" –– moves folks closer to pleasure or further from pain.

If you looked at my pricing and audibly gasped, I urge you to instead spend 1/100th of that price with me and purchase my copywriting guide: How to write words that sell like a Florida Snow Cone Vendor on the hottest day of the year. 

It's basically everything I know about advertising and writing rolled up into a wickedly entertaining course that you can tear through in less than an afternoon. 

Seriously, I would reach for a Snow Cone over working with me directly.

I charge a lot. I'm notoriously difficult to work with. I miss deadlines. I will almost certainly piss off at least one of your customers. I'm prone to drinking on the job. I curse like a sailor. I'm as dirty as an oil rig. And, every once in a while, I manage to create advertising that will give Don Draper a hard-on.