📬 Why I'm Doing This

I used to be indecisive, but now I’m not so sure.

(Should that have been the subject line? Probably. But now I’m not so sure.)

For years, my performance reviews boiled down to two things:

Then came the advice:
"You might want to lead with the strategy part."

Spoiler: I did not lead with the strategy part.

Now that I’m 52 (eek), I’m not interested in toning it down. Not the jokes. Not the sarcasm. Not the oddly suggestive metaphors about mailpieces (that’s what she said).

I didn’t grow up dreaming about working in direct mail. Other kids wanted to be doctors or astronauts or firemen. I wanted to be funny. My first word wasn’t “envelope”—but let’s be honest, it probably wasn’t far off. And somehow, after a few decades, I realized being funny while helping clients get better results? That’s a lane I can live in.

I started this newsletter because I wanted to prove you could give smart advice without sounding like a keynote speaker at a funnel optimization summit. Or the Direct Marketing Association conference. (I once saw Martha Stewart give a keynote at a DMA conference. Her slides got out of sync, and the whole room panicked. She didn’t. But someone on her team definitely got fired. That was pre-conviction Martha. More Miranda Priestly than Snoop Dogg in those days.)

And honestly, this newsletter helps keep me sane.

Every time someone tells me I remind them of him, it feels like he’s still here. Cracking a joke, staying three drinks too long, and reminding me that not everything we do has to be serious or "meaningful" to matter.

So why am I doing this? Because I finally can. Because I finally want to. Because it feels like the first time in a long time I’m using all the pieces of myself at once.

Maybe this turns into something more. Or it doesn’t.

But either way, at least I’m finally doing something with all these thoughts.

Why am I doing this?
Because I finally found a way to combine sarcasm and strategy.
Because I’m 52 and finally feel like myself. And honestly, it's about time.
Because the parts of me people actually respond to? I’m finally letting those lead.

And because apparently there's a geomagnetic storm hitting Earth this week, and I’d hate for the sun to explode before I get these ideas out of my Notes app.
Also, I truly never expected to type the word geomagnetic with this much conviction.

This pile of mail I found on a walk last week?

Yes, it’s real. Yes, I took a photo. Yes, I was thrilled.

It had everything:

ALL solid best practices.

And there they were: rotting quietly in the street.

Let this be your reminder. You can do everything right and still end up in the gutter.
Especially if your test idea falls into what I call a “whisper test.”

You know the ones:

If you're going to test, test something that actually moves the needle. Offer. List. Format. Or hell, tone of voice.
(Sarcasm might not work for your brand. But it works just fine over here, thank you very much.)

Because, like most people, I quite literally walk past direct mail.
But unlike most people, I actually stop and review it like it’s a slow-motion train wreck I helped design.

The real challenge isn’t just getting into the mailbox.
It’s staying out of the street.

Meaning: getting someone’s attention long enough for them to stop and actually open the damn thing. Easier said than done, I know.

So before you spend another 45 minutes debating whether to bold one more sentence in your fourth paragraph… just know: no one’s reading that far.

Not unless your envelope already did its job.

Found this newsletter helpful, funny, or just better than your 47-slide strategy deck?

Go ahead and forward it to a colleague. Or a client.
Or OneMain Financial. They clearly need me.

And if you’re not subscribed yet: You know what to do.

A few people—former coworkers, clients, friends—have texted me to say they love this. That it made them laugh. That it made them think.

And my favorite comment from Facebook? “Genius.” Thanks, Scott. I agree.

Honestly? That’s enough to keep me going.

This may not be stand-up. And I may not be Steven Gold.
I mean the Tom Hanks character in the not-so-critically-acclaimed 1988 film Punchline named Steven Gold.
(Not my father. Different Steve Gold. Considerably less musical and much worse at nicknames.)

But it’s the closest I’ve come. And I’m finally in a place in my life where I don’t need permission to be myself.

Just don’t ask me to give a keynote. I’m not there… yet.