OW

 

For years I treated missteps like stains I could scrub out if I just bought the right moral detergent. Worked harder. Slept less. Pretended I didn’t hear the hollow thud when a decision fell flat. I told myself there’d be a moment, a milestone, a triumph where I could say, See? Told you it all worked out. As if that erased the bruises gotten getting here.

But here’s the sideways grace of it: those wrong turns did something right. They stretched the edges. Broke the shell. Made room for growth, humility, and a weird, stubborn resilience that doesn’t come gift-wrapped with success. The messy parts carved shape where smooth clay never could.

No, I can't un-make the mistakes. And I don’t want to. They forged the scar tissue that keeps me standing and the vulnerability that keeps me human. I’m not here in spite of them. I’m here because of them.

Where do you see yourself in 5 years?

I've always hated that question in job interviews.

You, too? Here are a few suggestions that will liven up the interview. It might not move your name to the top of list of candidates, but you'll stand out from the pack.

Where do you see yourself in 5 years?

"Well, I see myself having successfully embezzled the office supplies budget, undergone emergency dental work to obscure my bite records, and relocated to a modest villa in Paraguay where I’ll breed miniature horses. I'm thinking I'll go by Douglas. Very trustworthy name, Douglas."

Where do you see yourself in 5 years?

"In five years, I anticipate having converted my entire retirement portfolio into rare Swiss watches, orchestrated a convincing drowning accident during a ferry crossing in the Baltic Sea, and obtained a suspiciously authentic-looking aristocratic title. I'll begin living as the mysterious recluse, Viscount Kaisersdorf, in a crumbling estate somewhere in rural Austria. I'll wear a monocle unironically, correspond exclusively via telegram, and develop strong opinions about brandy. The locals will whisper about me at the village market."

Where do you see yourself in 5 years?

"I envision myself having successfully liquidated my stock options into unmarked bearer bonds, staged a convincing mugging in Buenos Aires, and resurfaced in Montenegro as Professor Langley, a semi-retired botanist with a suspicious lack of verifiable academic credentials. I'll develop a slight limp and an encyclopedic knowledge of rare ferns. Very distinguished."

Where do you see yourself in 5 years?

"Five years from now? I'll have transferred my HSA funds to an offshore account in the Caymans, disappeared during a suspiciously foggy hiking trip in the Scottish Highlands, and reinvented myself as Madame Rousseau, a reclusive antique clock restorer in rural Portugal. I'm thinking severe bob haircut and an inexplicable collection of vintage typewriters. No one questions a woman obsessed with grandfather clocks."

Where do you see yourself in 5 years?

"Realistically, I see myself having siphoned my performance bonuses into precious gemstones, vanished while allegedly pursuing a spiritual awakening at a Tibetan monastery, and rematerialized in coastal Croatia as Captain Henrik, a grizzled sailboat charter operator with a mysterious past and an unconvincing Scandinavian accent. I'll tell inconsistent stories about my years in the merchant marine. People love that."

Where do you see yourself in 5 years?

"In five years, I hope to have converted my 401k into gold bullion, faked a dramatic food poisoning incident during a company retreat in the Azores, and emerged in Uruguay as a mysterious artisanal cheese consultant named Dmitri Bronson. I'll wear a lot of linen. Maybe get deeply into birdwatching. The key is committing to the bit." 

Can you guess which one I actually used in an interview? 

That interview, by the way, led to a job offer. But understand, I had sized up the interviewer and was pretty sure they would appreciate the off-the-wall answer from someone looking to fill a position that required more than a corporate suit reciting the variations of the typical, expected response. 

It should also be known that I wasn't overly anxious to land the job and figured if I blew it with a smartass answer (however calculated), I'd at least have a good story to tell when I got booted from the office.

Why Context Is the Secret Ingredient to a Winning Marketing Message

Ever gotten a text that made no sense? Like, "Bring the blue one" … and you have no idea what the blue one is? That’s what happens when marketing ignores context. It doesn’t land, it doesn’t convert, and it leaves people confused instead of convinced.

Context is the invisible force that makes a marketing message hit home. It’s not just what you say, it’s where, when, and to whom you say it. Let’s break down why context is king (and share some real-world examples of brands that got it right. And wrong).

Timing Is Everything (Just Ask Oreo)

Remember the 2013 Super Bowl blackout? While most advertisers had already spent millions on their pre-planned commercials, Oreo jumped on the moment with a simple tweet: “You can still dunk in the dark.”

Boom. Viral success.

Why? Because the message matched the moment perfectly. It was timely, clever, and relevant to an audience that was already engaged in the game (and suddenly left in the dark). That’s contextual marketing at its best: meeting your audience where they are in real time.

Know Your Audience (Pepsi’s Big Misstep)

On the flip side, we have Pepsi’s infamous 2017 ad featuring Kendall Jenner. The commercial showed Jenner handing a can of Pepsi to a police officer in the middle of a protest, seemingly suggesting that Pepsi could solve social justice issues.

The backlash was immediate. Why? Because it completely misunderstood the context of real protests, reducing serious issues to a feel-good commercial. Instead of resonating with the audience, it felt tone-deaf.

Lesson learned: If you don’t fully understand the social and emotional context of your message, it can backfire big time.

Localize or Lose Out (McDonald’s in China)

McDonald's is a global brand, but they don’t use a one-size-fits-all approach. In China, they introduced taro pies and soy milk instead of just pushing their classic apple pies and coffee. They understood the local cultural context and adapted their messaging to fit consumer tastes.

Contrast that with brands that fail to localize...like when KFC launched in China with the slogan “Finger-lickin’ good,” which, unfortunately, translated to “Eat your fingers off.” Oops.

Context in the Digital Age: Personalized Marketing

Thanks to AI and data-driven marketing, brands can personalize messages like never before. Ever searched for running shoes and suddenly started seeing ads for the exact pair you were looking at? That’s context-driven marketing in action. When done well, it feels helpful rather than creepy.

But beware...get the context wrong, and it feels invasive. Ever had a conversation about a product and then seen an ad for it minutes later? Yeah, that feels like your phone is spying on you (even if it’s just smart ad targeting). Balance is key.

The Takeaway

Marketing isn’t just about crafting a great message, it’s about delivering it at the right time, in the right place, to the right audience. Context matters. Ignore it, and your message gets lost in the noise. Nail it, and you create something memorable, engaging, and, most importantly, effective.

So, before you hit send on that next campaign, ask yourself: Does this message make sense here and now? If the answer is yes, you’re on the right track.

 

The Algorithm Forgot to Call You Back

 

Somewhere between “scale it” and “automate it,” we lost the plot. We started talking to dashboards instead of people. We got hypnotized by KPIs, engagement funnels, and click-through dreams. Marketing became a math problem. Beautiful, intricate, and entirely bloodless.

Work used to be relational. You knew your clients, your customers, your people. You didn’t “segment an audience”; you looked someone in the eye and said, “I hear you.” You didn’t need a CRM to remind you who mattered.

Then we optimized. Oh, did we ever. We optimized our messages until they sounded like they were written by a sentient toaster.

We automated follow-ups until nobody wanted to follow up anymore.

We built the perfect content machine, one that could publish, post, and promote without ever stopping to feel.

But you can feel something, can’t you? The static hum of automation. The sameness. The weariness. The noise that no longer lands because it doesn’t mean anything.

But the future, I believe, has a heartbeat.

The next era of marketing won’t be built by bots or fueled by “growth hacks.” It’ll be built by people who remember that connection is not a strategy … it’s a lifeline. It’ll be shaped by trust, empathy, care. By the slow, human work of listening before you speak and showing up before you sell.

Because work, the real work, has always been relational. It’s not about optimizing impressions. It’s about making one.

So maybe, just maybe, it’s time we put down the metrics for a minute. Call someone instead of cold-emailing them. Ask what they need, not how they convert. Speak like a person again.

I hope the future of marketing won’t shout to be heard, but lean in to listen.