Talk of viral marketing spreads

We're among many talking about viral marketing. Here's a post from the prolific Chris Brogan about a recent experience with an ad sent to him, which he turned around and blogged about, and which I'm blogging about, too. His timing was right: I am tuned into his message about the, ha! communicable diseases that are viral ads.

What I've noticed about the exemplary ads we've pinpointed in class and this one in Chris' example is that they are all narrative accounts. They're considerably longer than the 30 second made-for-tv format, they look sharp, and they appeal to something other than product features. They are, in short, connecting to a sense of self rather than the self . . . itself? Benefits, not features. 

OK. So why is this? I've been giving it a little thought today, even though I should be thinking about the volume of other work I need to get done this week. These little multimedia narratives are iconic, symbols of what we believe true in ourselves. Whether I choose to pass along an ad depends on how closely I can identify with it. Is it the same for you?

Since the currency of a modern society is largely symbolic anyhow (money, the production of labour -- at least for those of us in this cohort --, social networks), sharing icons is an act within a modern ritual of connecting and staying connected. Have I taken this too far? Just wait a sec.

What happens in your office when the network goes down? In mine, we reboot, jiggle some cables, wander out of our offices to check if anyone else is offline, then seize up because there's nothing to do in this bizarre, offline world. Never fails. I depend on my computer to get my work done and to stay connected with my at-work network. When it's down, I'm lost. When it's up, I have purpose and can resume my job as Office Worker.

Sharing a short multimedia narrative as a symbol of who I am (an Office Worker With a Computer) and what I identify with (likes, interests, style) makes sense. Those whom I send it to who share the same interests can share back a similar iconic offering. It's comforting. And it's purposeful: a currency in the market of symbolic social transactions. 

Ask not what your network can do for you . . .

After two solid weeks discussing social capital, I'm finding fewer original things to say in its defense or in opposition.

Perhaps what struck me most is the idea of being susceptible to the infection of an idea or a concept. Is there a way to gauge a group's potential response to a stimulus? It seems so random, like a sneeze well placed. You know when the flu comes around, there's always one person who will come down and someone who seems can never be felled by illness. Does any of this immunity relate to viral marketing?

Maybe.

Or maybe it's a bit of social conditioning -- something that predates electronic technology.

The division of labour in hunter-gatherer societies was pretty clear. Men hunted meat; women gathered nuts, berries, etc. Those who were most effective in their roles gained status in their communities.

Zoom ahead about 10,000 years and we're repeating the same actions . . . with a couple of twists:

• hunting and gathering have become symbolic processes. Even our currency transactions happen virtually when I hand over a credit card that a cashier swipes into a machine, which links to a distant network to verify my credit (and credibility), hands back my card, and gives me my purchases. I hand over my signature. Really, for the amount of symbolism involved, this should be a rite.
  
• both genders are fulfilling both roles, now, though in my experience, it seems women still do more gathering. The communal aspect of gathering seems greatly diminished. At least for me. I feel I need to maintain this space I call home and yard (and office) without anyone else's help, just as I do not go elsewhere to help others care for their spaces. Only if there's a symbolic exchange of money or goods does it seem appropriate. In other words, if I were to pay someone to clean my windows, then that would be ok. But I feel strongly against it, since I can do the work myself. So I hunt at the office to bring home a few numbers on a computer that assess the number of kills I have made, which, in turn, I can use to procure goods.
  
• Meanwhile, I gather food, supplies, and sundry other things to provide for my family.
  
  Using a computer means I only get symbolically bloodied at work.