You Can’t Post a Cookie

Cookies are a great way to get to know people.

You Can’t Post a Cookie

Content is what it is all about these days. We are “content-providers”. People and organizations provide information that they hope will compel you to engage with them regularly. And there are billions of us. Nearly everyone who has a smart phone provides content of some kind, all of us trying to be noticed, appreciated, subscribed to, and engaged in some form or other.

I think a lot about content. I have spent hours pondering what content I could provide that would be enjoyable enough to attract people and, more than that, move visitors to engage with my articles, posts, etc. But I am a speck in an infinite online universe. If you have seen the animated movie “Finding Nemo” you may recall the scene where seagulls are filling the frame, all calling out, “me, me, me, me, me, me…”. Content providers are like an endless flock of seagulls, all clamoring for attention.

There’s lots of people and organizations that are content providing pros.  I don’t even have an amateur rating. So, how do I compete? Then it came to me. I researched it thoroughly, and in fact, my assumption was correct. None of the masterful and successful content providers offered home-baked cookies…not one! I found my niche!

So, in my last newsletter you may recall that I invited everyone to be the first person to make a comment on my blog, and I offered the encouragement of sending one dozen gluten-free oatmeal raisin cookies to the first commenter. Well, I got three comments. I know, that’s not a lot, but, you know, Rome wasn’t built in a day.

Three dozen cookies is no more work than a dozen, so I decided to send each of the commenters some cookies. When I made the offer I was aware that a comment could come from anywhere in the world. So, I must admit, I was a little strategic in that I sent the newsletter out in early afternoon, California time. I wanted the cookies to be fresh when they reached their destination.

However, my strategy failed. One of the comments was from Ireland, another was from New Zealand. When I contacted them both of the women asked that I gift the cookies to one of their friends in the U.S. Nobody wants stale cookies. The New Zealand winner asked that I send the cookies to her mother-in-law in Boston. When she received the cookies she emailed me back telling me what a delightful surprise it was to receive the cookies, and asking for the recipe. (As she was writing she was munching on a cookie and drinking a cup of tea while looking out her window at the shores of Boston Harbor.) She also told me that she paints. After I sent her the cookie recipe she offered to send me some of her homemade plum jam which she will make after her local plums ripen this summer. What a treat to look forward to!

These interchanges were meaningful to me. I loved the personal connection with others via the exchange of food. Right now, with all of this talk of cookies, I’ve got to go make another batch. I am preheating the oven now.

In fact, cookie-content was so thoroughly successful I have decided that I want to repeat it. But I can’t send cookies to everyone that might comment. That could get out of control quickly. But I can send a dozen gluten-free oatmeal raisin cookies to the twentieth person who makes a comment on my blog. (You do have to register on the blog to comment, but it is an entirely painless process, promise.)

Never underestimate the power of a cookie, for a cookie is a beautiful thing. But you can’t post a cookie to your blog, and you can’t download a treat. Sometimes you have to do things the ancient way.

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