| Diary of a Neurotic | ||||||
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January 28, 2004 I hate my marketing courses…they make me feel stupid. To unconsciously be one of the many consumers being carefully segmented…targeted and exploited to sell products that are different only because of the brand name they carry. After a proposed experiment by my instructor I checked the labels of shampoos…all of them have more or less the same ingredients and I felt like an idiot. Here I was… a faithful customer of L’Oreal with a firm belief that my favorite brand gave me silkier, shinier, split-end free hair… just like the hot models advertised. I gushed about it to everyone who complained of ordinary unnoticeable tresses and I've been duped into paying more for it! I entered Marketing Management with my stubborn prejudice…I hate to admit it but it has completely altered…at least towards attending the class. I am fascinated with my teacher. I'm in love with his lectures…subtle use of random unrelated quotations, talking about biases we are infected with but refute, truly trying to open our mind and challenge things that we have been conditioned never to question. The students find him too liberal, crazy and intimidating. I find his intellect, experiences and knowledge enchanting. I want to walk into his office and pick his brain. Crawl into that extraordinary grey matter and swirl my fingers around it. I am a ravenous sponge and I'm dying for a chance to suck up all that he knows…to find answers which I'm sure are floating about in his so well decorated brain. Where has he come from, been to and where is he going? I want to be his Frankenstein or even a guinea pig…made into something that is a product of his own philosophies. I sit in his class open mouthed, nodding my head, face flushed with the rush of dubious perspectives being unfreezed…changed and refreezed again. (10:07 PM) ~`~
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