#SMS Marketing for Restaurants

[bbibbirose]

ok what

[sweetheartsaku]

—ot5 txt ; txt as a little more than friends

a/n : [fem!reader] AHH MY VERY FIRST REQ BY @bxckkdoor 😞💞💞 thank u sm u have no idea how grateful i am jskdeds <33 im so sorry this took so long... theres been some things happening irl rn </3

lupine !

yeonjun ; espresso - sabrina carpenter

ALWAYS HYPING YOU UP whether that be on your latest insta post, most recent snap, on call as your studying or even when you’re getting up to order something 😭💗

the best friend who hyung card activates when he sees you slightly uncomfortable from pricks on public transport or anyone, he finds a slight threat. on trams, one hand is on the handle, and one is wrapped around your torso (not waist cuz yall are ‘friends’ and doesn’t wanna make you uncomfortable!) BOUNDARIES PPL

JEWELLERY MAKING!! mentioned in another ot5 post, he loves making little bracelets or picking some cute ones up from stalls. gets cute and silly charms that remind him of you

prefers to take you out to night markets and restaurants, preferably cold dessert or ramen at home. loveloveloves both!!!

soobin ; must be love - laufey

loves to take pictures of sunsets, but ever since you guys became friends its always you taking a picture of the sunset too 🥹 2 of his favourite sights <3

has absolutely no hesitation in sending things over to your house. whether you’re sick and need food, falling behind and need books, hungry and want takeout, mention it once and the uber is at the door

CUTEST photo booth results. when you pass one, yall are bound to snap a couple pictures. you both have quite a collection of photo booth pics, and obviously some polaroids too!! always a couple on your wall and the back of your laptop and the back of his phone.

offers to carry you when your heels get too painful. thats it. thank you for coming to my ted talk.

beomgyu ; you get me so high - the neighborhood

mentions you in vids on tiktok that say iconic duos and it’s your initials with his, or sends you videos that are like 2 friends doing the candy bowls trend with MHA paper wigs on LOL

waits for you to tie your laces if he doesn’t get to them first. most of the time he’ll crouch in front of you and watch you tie them. sometimes you just need to wag your foot and he’s already there subconsciously but it's never in a slave way?? just a habit 😭 “can u tie my laces” “you’re so LAZY smh.” proceeds to tie them

weirdly knows when you’re not sleeping. he’ll text you on a day where you’ve never implied you were going to stay up, so when you get a text from beomgyu its like he knows you so well “GO TO SLEEP???” “EHY DO U HSVE CAMERAS ON ME”

writes your initials on everything!!!!!!! sometimes yeah he'll sneaky a heart over your paired letters, and loves to doodle over your arm or something <3 quite the artîst i say

taehyun ; don't wanna fall in love - KYLE

as much as i don't like saying grabby hands he does it sometimes. when you cross the road, his hands expect to be around yours when you cross. very endearing 10/10 would steal my heart in an instant

very playful sometimes 🥹 (THE VOICESS I CAN'T HOLD IT IN ANYMORE TAEHYUN I LOVE YOUU) bumps his waist onto yours, lightly hits you with whatever's light, just likes to be fun and cozy with you. is very comforting and easy to open up with!!

he gives super nice massages. i dunno. like out of the blue, you or him will be talking to someone and his hands are on your shoulders. he's very gentle with it, and the tension in your body slips away so quickly.

lots of mirror selfies (kinda wants u to compliment him hehe)!! whether it's a new fit, in the changing room, at the gym! he's so pretty i cannot do this anymore.

kai ; forever out of time - tokyo tea room

the most FUN (friend?) dates EVERRRR!!! whether it be visiting the animal shelter, going on picnics, ice-skating, but last but not least (and also his favourite) is simply staying at his or your house and play cozy games on the switch :)) don't forget the noodles, blankets and movies!

his hands brush over yours way more than a normal friend should. maybe it's from being so used to clinging onto his arm or something, it's like magnetised. his arm is like... ALUUUUUURRING.

SO MANY 0.5S AND TIKTOKS. always filming something cute and trendy, a dance, sentimental trend. like yeonjun is always hyping you up in posts or stories, commenting liking favouriting EVERYTHING!!!

wrote the date you guys met on his controller. very small, on the right corner of his switch, in white paint pen with a smiley face next to it (he's so sweet i will cry on you)

[alcearosea-sims]

would you ever be open to uploading your nonresidential lots? (if not that's fine) but I love ur builds sm and I've downloaded nearly all of them, it would be cool to see how you build other lots!

Hey there! I can sometime in the next month or so package up the community lots I have although they would be extremely cc heavy. I don’t go on my pc a lot anymore but I have been meaning to do this at some point. I only have a few but here’s some examples of what I have:

-Pizzeria w/ apartment upstairs and non game playable ice cream parlor next door (Brindleton Bay wharf)

-Small town boat club. Can be used as a restaurant or bar (Brindleton Bay)

-Donut cafe w/ craft market. The cafe is so small I don’t think it is actually functional, just set dressing (wharf in Brindleton Bay)

-Grocery store with empty space for whatever next door (Copperdale)

-giant very old 64x64 lot with living space I built probably 4 years ago now or longer

[iamgonnagetyouback]

hi! congratulations on 1k <33

can i request a snowmance with a harry potter character (if your requests are still open ofcc)

i love spending time with my friends and going to new restaurants and local flea and farmers markets with them, i also really love cake any type of cake. i am very interested in psychology and i love reading and baking as well! i am a bigg cat lady, i have 3 cats named milky, santra and hazel:)

i have a weird aversion to onions i cannot stand the smell or look of it, i also dont like moths they freak me out

my favourite book is probably radio silence by alice oseman and my favourite tv show is psych

my ideal winter date would be to walk around a park on a cold evening, holding hands and drinking a cup of hot chocolate and just talking about life in general

thank you sm!

Thank you for your sweet words <33

ivy's 1k celebration ⛄️ navigation ⛄️ fandoms

ˋ°•*⁀➷ REGULUS BLACK

Your vibe is so cozy, and I’ve got just the perfect snowmance match for you: Regulus.

Oh my goodness, the aesthetic of you two together is perfection. Regulus would absolutely thrive in those moments where you’re walking through a frosty park, hand in hand, sipping hot chocolate, and just talking about life.

He’d love listening to you share your interests in psychology and baking, his dark eyes lighting up every time you got passionate about a topic.

And your love for cats? Swoon. He’d adore Milky, Santra, and Hazel, probably sneaking them treats and acting all nonchalant about it, even though they’d quickly become his favorite companions.

For your winter date, Regulus would surprise you with a trip to a local market, buying you a slice of your favorite cake from a little stall and a cozy scarf he spotted just because it “reminded him of you.”

He’d tease you about your onion aversion and your dislike of moths, but in that sweet, knowing way that makes you roll your eyes and smile.

[jiacast]

World Tourism Day

Travel Guide: Manila, Philippines

Manila, the Philippines' vibrant metropolis, is a dynamic mix of old and new, with ancient Spanish architecture meeting modern skyscrapers and busy marketplaces coexisting with elegant retail malls. Whether you're interested in the city's rich history, eclectic cuisine scene, or vibrant culture, Manila provides an intriguing and comprehensive experience.

When to Visit:

The dry season (November-May) offers less humidity and rain, with cooler temperatures from December to February. The wet season (June-October) offers indoor activities like museums and shopping and is less crowded.

Top Attractions:

Intramuros: The historic heart of Manila, built during the Spanish colonial period. Visits include Fort Santiago, San Agustin Church, and Casa Manila Museum.

Rizal Park (Luneta): A sprawling park dedicated to José Rizal, hosting the National Museum Complex.

Binondo, The World's Oldest Chinatown: A vibrant neighborhood known for its Chinese-Filipino culture and delicious food.

Manila Ocean Park: An aquarium and marine-themed park offering a variety of activities.

Cultural Center of the Philippines (CCP): Home to Filipino performing arts, hosting concerts, ballets, plays, and art exhibits.

Local Experiences:

Experience the Philippines' iconic jeepney ride for a colorful and affordable way to explore Manila. The city is a shopping paradise, with luxurious malls like SM Mall of Asia and bargain hunting at Divisoria Market and Greenhills Shopping Center. Enjoy local crafts, electronics, and clothes at these popular shopping destinations.

Food & Dining:

Manila is a hub of Filipino flavors, offering a diverse range of street vendors and fine dining options. Famous dishes include lechon, a traditional pig dish; adobo, a soy-braised chicken or pork dish; and halo-halo, a refreshing dessert made with shaved ice, sweetened fruits, jelly, ube, and leche flan.

Must-Try Restaurants:

Ilustrado Restaurant in Intramuros offers a blend of Spanish, Filipino, and international cuisine, while Barbara's Heritage Restaurant provides a cultural dining experience with traditional Filipino food and folk dance performances. Aristocrat is renowned for its Filipino comfort food.

Day Trips from Manila:

Tagaytay, Pagsanjan Falls, and Corregidor Island: • Tagaytay: 2-hour drive from Manila, offers cooler weather and Taal Volcano views. • Pagsanjan Falls: 3-hour boat ride through river gorge, ending with refreshing waterfall. • Corregidor Island: Historical island off Manila Bay, played a significant role during WWII. Guided tour of ruins, tunnels, and military barracks.

Nightlife:

Manila's nightlife scene is vibrant, particularly in Makati, Bonifacio Global City, and Malate. It offers trendy rooftop bars, live music, and dance clubs. Poblacion, known for its hip vibe, features speakeasies, bars, and clubs. Resorts World Manila, a luxury resort and casino, offers sophisticated dining, theaters, and bars for a sophisticated night out.

Getting Around:

Manila's traffic can be busy, so leave additional time to drive. You can get about using Grab (the taxi service app), jeepneys, buses, or LRT/MRT trains. Local communities also have tricycles and pedicabs accessible for shorter trips.

Cultural Etiquette:

• Mano Po: Traditional respect gesture where younger people place elder's hand on forehead. • Bayanihan Spirit: Filipino hospitality, friendly locals, and helpfulness encouraged.

Shopping:

Divisoria is a popular market known for affordable goods, while SM Mall of Asia is a massive mall offering luxury goods, local brands, an ice skating rink, and an IMAX theater.

Conclusion:

With its blend of colonial history, vibrant urban life, and ingrained culture, Manila is a city of contrasts. Whether you're taking in the lively culinary scene or discovering the old-world elegance of Intramuros, Manila provides a diverse and colorful experience that will make for lifelong memories.

[kittrrrr]

Tom's Diner

Hello! This is a secret santa gift for @sm-writes-chaos as a part of @writeblrcafe 's exchange!

It's 1,446 words and it was inspired by Tom's Diner by Suzanne Vega and (to lesser extents) All I Wanna Do by Sheryl Crow, Breakfast at Tiffany's by Deep Blue Something and Allison Road by the Gin Blossoms. It's under the cut

===

Clinging to the corner of Alison road and Parker square, there is the tiny Tom's diner. It’s many things, but no matter what it was, from market to Chinese restaurant, it was always called Tom's dinner. People, young and old, would joke about old Tom's inability to let go of a name that often didn't fit. However, on this occasion, Tom had just completed a transition back into an actual diner, after spending at least three years as a Chinese restaurant. He was cleaning the counter, because the roof was leaking again, and if any of the regulars had been there, they would be ribbing him to “just fix that damn leak already!”.

The bell jingled, and a windswept wander stumbled into the store. Tom grunted, acknowledging the person's entrance. The person, in question, was Elliot Tiffany, son of the owner of Tiffany's, a little breakfast place on the otherside of town. He pulled down his hood, looking around the eatery. Wet floor signs (the only leak was over the bar, and the only wet spot by the door) covered the ground, and Tom manned the bar, looking like a taller, salt and pepper santa. Elliot picked his way over to the bar, Tom finally looking at him

“Good mornin’, what'll it be?” Tom huffed.

“Just a coffee,” Elliot said, picking up a newspaper. Tom glared, to which Elliot rolled his eyes. “I'm on a budget.”

“Says the person that's drivin’ me outta business.” Tom grumbled, shuffling around for a thirty year old pot that required oven mits to handle safely.

“It's not my fault you refuse to update. You're the only reason you're not making the money your father used to.”

“I ain't ruinin’ the place my father worked so hard on! His whole life went into this place, his whole life for me to have a chance in this country!” Elliot rolled his eyes, flipping through the newspaper, but otherwise saying nothing. Tom set the coffee pot down, although Elliot's cup was only half full. He picked up a clean rag and dried the counter again. Another man came over to the counter, one of the people that came into Tom's regularly. Thus, he knew that Tom was not in a mood to Be Messed With, and he accepted the menu that was thrown at him without complaint.

Tom aggressively tried to keep the counter clean, an impossible task with the only leaks in the diner over the counter and the heavy sheets of rain. Tom tried anyway. Elliot sighed, not finding whatever he was looking for in the want ads, if he even had a reason to look through them anyway, and set the newspaper down.

A woman paused, looking in her reflection in the window of the diner, and she shifted her hood, causing water to pour onto her hair. Then she came into the eatery, and kissed the man that had come in before her. Elliot walked around the back of the counter, well aware Tom was ignoring him, and grabbed a carton of 2% milk.

The diner was quieter then it should've been for nine in the morning, quite then it would've been when the coffee pot was new. There was the couple giggling, the gurgle of milk, and the pounding of rain. Too quiet. It got on Tom's nerves, how quiet it was, if he was honest, but he’d long learned to shove those feelings down. He had work to be doing.

Well, not much work. The only thing that demanded his attention was keeping the bar nice and dry. And that was not exactly urgent in itself. Nothing like it was when Tom was just taking over. Had he really been the reason that his dad's legacy was falling apart, thirty-odd years after it had been intrusted to him? He barely stopped himself from punching the counter. No! That uppity Elliot Tiffany was the only reason he was thinking like this! Speaking of which…

“I didn't take you for the kinda guy that would be messin’ ‘round in the horoscopes.” Tom said, not looking up from his drying of the counter.

“Just what I'd expect from someone who just wants to live in the past.” Elliot said coolly. “But no. I was looking for the comics.”

“Now that's unexpected. You? A funny bone? Hardly!” Tom chortled.

“There's something to subtle comedy. Not something your kind understands, I take it.” Elliot hummed. “More coffee, please.” Tom took the pot, fully filling up Elliot's cup this time. He dropped the carton of .ilk in front of Elliot.

“I suppose someone like you wouldn't appreciate the simple pleasure of a cup of black coffee, anyways.” Elliot flipped past the comics, coming to the orbituraties instead.

“I don't have to, old man.” Elliot poured the milk, steam rising off the cup. It twisted on the air, floating to the leak. Drip, drip, drip, and rub, rub, rub. The silence in the diner stretched as Elliot reached a point where he was content with the milk to coffee ratio. The couple had an order of juice and pancakes, then quickly left. The rain was freezing, but the normally cheerful diner was even moreso. They would find some where else to be until it thawed again.

Faint breathing and rain attempted to fill the canyon of quiet that filled the spaces between the two men. Finally, Tom couldn't take it anymore. He snapped, dropping the rag he was using.

“Why ya here!? You shouldn't have no reason to come botherin’ me, Tiffany's is on the other side a town!”

“You should know full well why I’m here, Tom. You’ve done a very good job of digging yourself into a hole. My mother and I have talked, and we believe that it would be prudent to expand our business. I’m here to offer you a way out of that hole.” Elliot dug into the depths of his jacket to produce a contract.

“No, no, no! I- I can't take this! My pop put his soul into this place!”

“It'll be your downfall. Tiffany is ready with a very generous offer especially considering the-” Elliot looked around the place, a sneer on his face “-the state of this place.” Tom growled. That was the last straw. This little twerp came into his restaurant, which had been managing since before he was born, and insulted it, insulted him. Tom snatched the papers out of Elliot's hands. A middle aged blonde came in, the one and only Mrs. Tiffany Tiffany. She smiled at Tom.

“So dear, have you considered our offer?” Tiffany asked, sitting at the bar. “I'll have a coffee. Budget, y'know? I wanted Lee to handle a deal on his own, but I couldn't help but see how everything was going! Love this place, y'know? I've been coming here for ages, and I can't wait to update it! Rip out that ugly flooring, redo the seating! Oh! Tom's Diner will be at its very best under my-”

“Get out.” Tom snapped, unable to handle the blathering of this idiot blonde for any longer. “I will never sell this store, not as long as I live. You don't know what it means, ‘n’ you never will. This place was the last hope for desperate people fleein’ their homes. You, with your fancy little breakfast café, would suck all the life out of Tom's diner- my home, the home of the hopeless.” Tom drew himself in, towering over Elliot and Tiffany. He was doing his best impression of a Latino bear. “Get out! I hope I ain't ever hafta see your sorry butts again!!” Tom dug his fingers into the papers and ripped.

And again.

And again.

He slammed the pieces of paper onto the counter, shrieking profanities at the Tiffanys as they scrambled out the door. They got soaked, of course, because it was still pouring. Tom smiled to himself, after he stopped shaking.

“Y’know why I won't sell? Tom's has been standin’ for much longer since before Tiffany's, and it will standin’ long after.” Tom turned away. He dried the counter with the shredded contract- it was really about time he fixed that leak- and started another pot of coffee. There'd be more people soon. Tom dumped Elliot's cup into the trash. There wouldn't be any trace of those two rats if he had anything to say about it. Shortly after, people, like drowned rats, started washing in.

A few years later, Tiffany’s went bankrupt… but that’s a story for another day. Tom’s Diner is a little diner that’s been many things, but it has been true to itself. So it's always been called Tom's Diner.

[zoyaofthegardvn]

hiii, love your work sm! i was wondering if you could maybe write headcanons for dating modern au!zoya? thank you sm 💓 keep doing what you are doing

Modern!Zoya Headcanons

A/N: Awh thanks so much! That's so kind! I love this idea, thank you for requesting :)

CW: None that I can think of!

I think you two def meet at school, maybe the same university

Like I really think it'd be an academic rivals to lovers type thing

Maybe you two have different majors though, like you're doing English Literature and she's in Political Science

But, your minor is Poli Sci, and her minor is English

So, you two have a crossover class at least once a semester

You're way better at writing essays than she is, but she can memorize and recite the hell out of court cases, laws and legal standards, current events, etc.

You're always neck and neck for top of the class, and you two share an equal amount of wins

It took a solid three semesters before you two realized you worked better as a team

So you two very hesitantly started studying together, doing homework together, even collaborating on projects and papers

Then slowly, study dates turned into date dates

And I don't think either of you really noticed

Until you were suddenly not letting her pay for her own coffee and meals

And she was picking you up from your apartment to drive you to campus every day, even when you didn't have a class together

And when you packed some snacks, you brought her some, too

And she always brought another sweatshirt, because the campus Starbucks is freezing and you never bring one

And then you start going off campus, grabbing dinner at local restaurants, seeing movies, going to the damn farmer's market every Saturday morning

She comes to see you at work, bringing you a drink

You start staying over at her place when studying runs a bit late

Until eventually, you're having a wine night, at your place this time, and Zoya kisses you

You're struggling to uncork the first wine bottle of the evening, and she's laughing, but you refuse to give up and let her try

Your hands are sweaty, and you can't focus because you're laughing too, her happiness being infectious

She grabs the bottle from your hand, and when your skin meets, you blush

She doesn't let go of your hand as she sets the bottle on the counter

You look at her funny, her laughter dying down quickly, her face serious

Before you can ask her what's wrong, she surges forward, pecking your lips

It's so quick, you don't even get the chance to kiss back

She pulls away, eyes wide, apologies spilling from her lips

Then you're grabbing her face and kissing her too, stopping her rambling, soothing her worries

When you pull away, breathless, you ask, "How long have you wanted to do that?"

"Since sophomore year," she says, and kisses you again

You two are exclusive immediately after that

And she lets everyone know

She posts a sweet picture of the two of you on her socials, you kissing her cheek while she smiles big

It's not the first time you appeared on her page, and the comments were flooded with "It's about time," and "omg finally!!" and "I knew it."

You hold her hand all the time in public, wrap an arm around her waist, keep a hand on her lower back

She's always kissing your cheek when you two depart, and she even steals a kiss on the lips if campus isn't especially busy

You make a highlight on your Instagram page of pictures of her, because you post one nearly every day

And her profile picture is from the day you had told her you loved her for the first time, and she decides that it will literally never change

Second semester of senior year, though it's just one more semester, you two move in together

She plans to begin working for an agency she'd been interning with, and you'll start a Master's program right after undergrad

Your apartment is full of pictures together, bookshelves, plants, string lights, good food (Zoya cooks for you a lot) and lots of seating

You two host your friends all the time

Genya, David, Alina, Nikolai, Tamar, and Tolya are there at least twice a week

Your home is always full of laughter and love, I truly think you two almost never fight and when you do, it's over in minutes

You two graduate, party with your friends, and spend the evening together.... celebrating in other ways (iykyk)

Her first day full time at her new job, you pack her lunch and make her take a "first day" picture, and she's scowling in it but you don't mind

When you start your Master's after a summer off, she's helping you with homework even when you insist she doesn't have to do that

You two make it a priority to have at least one date night a week, even though you have busy schedules

She works weird hours sometimes, and you have to juggle school on top of your part time job

But you make it work

You either see a movie and grab dinner, or go for a walk in a local park and bring home take out, or grab drinks and cheap food, or you go to a local museum and get coffee beforehand

Anything that's just you two

Nights with friends don't count as date night

You like to be alone together, to fall impossibly deeper in love the closer you grow

And I think that after your Master's program is over, when you get a job offer in another state, you two have the biggest and really the only terrifying fight of your relationship

You propose long distance, and Zoya resists, claiming that you two had been way too serious for way too long for that kind of relationship to start now

You want to go, and Zoya wants you to, too, but you need to start the job within two weeks, and Zoya isn't ready to leave your college town behind so fast

But the opportunity is one you thought you'd only ever dream of, and Zoya would never deprive you of that

But Zoya needs time to find a position in the city you'd move to, she needs to talk to and say goodbye to her friends, she needs to find a home for the two of you to start over again in, because she loved your shared apartment and is scared to leave it

After two nights of staying in different rooms, snapping at each other, crying, even throwing around the idea of breaking up, you have enough

"Damnit, Zoya, we're going to be together forever and you fucking know that!"

"I thought I did, but you're the one that's so ready to leave!"

"This is my dream, Z, how can I turn it down?"

"I'm not asking you to say no, I'm asking for time."

"Time you know I don't have."

It feels like your heart is broken, and Zoya feels the exact same way

She'd follow you anywhere, but she didn't think it would come so fast, with so little time to adjust

And she knows it isn't your fault

So when you climb into the bed in the guest room, crying and shaking, she holds you to her chest, she rubs your back, she kisses your head

She lets herself cry, too, and the both of you fall asleep, finally finding comfort in at least being back in the same room

The next morning, you ask her to talk to you, calmly. No more yelling, no more anger, no more sadness

She agrees, of course. Apologies are exchanged, kisses are shared, and you two begin to figure out how to make this work

You confess to her that honestly, you're ready to really start a life together. Marriage, kids, a permanent home.

She confesses she felt the same, and she was worried that you wanting to leave meant that that wasn't what you wanted

You two decide that you'll leave first, you'll start the job, and Zoya will come stay with you every so often as you survey the area for a house to buy

It's a huge step for the both of you, buying a house, but you want to prove to each other that this is forever

And you want to show Zoya that you're not running away from anything, but you want her to run towards something with you

It takes about four months, four long months hardly being around one another, but you finally find a house you both feel like you could see yourselves growing in

Zoya has landed a job with the local FBI field office, a huge accomplishment for her, and you two spend her weekend in the city celebrating and crying tears of joy

You get to move in to your home about a month later, and so really, five months you two spent long distance, and you're both beyond excited for it to be over

Alina and Genya travel with Zoya to help the two of you move in and set up, and after a few days, they have to return home

You share tearful goodbyes, but mostly, you're excited to have your home to yourselves

You share a meal, take out from a local place you'd been raving about for months, the plates laid out on your cardboard box coffee table

The furniture could wait to be built, you just wanted to soak in your first night in your home

And you had gotten the bed put together, which was the most important part ;)

But when the meal is done, and you get up to drag her to the bedroom, she stops you, a loving smile on her face

She pulls out a little box from her back pocket, and you instantly burst into tears

She tears up, too, and her hand shakes as she pulls the box open, a ring you couldn't have picked better yourself nestled inside

She can't even finish asking you to marry her before your squealing, nodding, throwing your arms around her and kissing her as you chant "yes, yes, of course I'll marry you" into her mouth

And so, the first night the two of you spend in your new home, alone, the newest journey of your shared life together, you spend as fiancees.

[twilightakiishi]

bikini n mango for the tr boyfiess !!

omg hiii ty for the ask <3 ima keep it short but i wanna answer for all four of them bc i miss them sm

mango 𖦹 what are your favorite summer activities?

shuji: ROAD TRIPS!! tons of photo ops for the both of us. we both bring several cameras. and he's a big eater, so he likes trying the most popular restaurant in every city we visit and then we rank them together at the end !!

kakucho: this is a man who loves to grill. we host bbqs with his tenjiku buddies <3

kazutora: we go to the farmer's market every weekend to pick out fresh fruit and go home to make ice cream/popsicles <333 i think he'd also love to engage in a sandcastle competition with me. and water balloon fights. we're both very in touch with our inner child LOL

kokonoi: beach house babyyy! we get ourselves a lil condo on the beach and spend plenty of time in the water. likes to go out at night too so we can skinny dip in the shallow teehee

bikini 𖦹 how do they react to seeing you in a bikini or swimsuit or swim trunks?

shuji: i actually have to wear cover ups around him often or we're at risk for being arrested for public indecency.

kakucho: stares. so hard. very generous with compliments and respectful touches. stands behind me in public to protect, and so he can stare more >.<

kazutora: when we first start dating he's blushy and can hardly look at me. but when he gets used to it he's very outspoken with his compliments. he goes :O WOW!!! :D hahaha he's so cute

kokonoi: this body worshipping man...he might leave some subtle marks. WILL bite my ass. kinda similar to shuji but he has more shame so I don't feel the need to cover up LOL

[thedivinelights]

Console.WriteLine("A Christmas Carol);

Ao3

STAVE THREE: THE MARKETING OFFICER

⎯ · ⎯ · ⎯ · ⎯ · ⎯ · ⎯ · ⎯ · ⎯ · ⎯ · ⎯ · ⎯ · ⎯ · ⎯ · ⎯

Upon the arrival of the twenty-third of December, and awaking with grogginess and discomfort, Scrooge and Marley stood already poised and ready for the day ahead. In fact, it could then be stated that they were never unprepared to start, for they had ever been the masters of their time, the keepers of their schedules. But for fear of my reiteration of words already spoken, let me instead speak up and say that earlier on this day, there were none of the intimate gestures or easy banter that often characterised their mornings. Nay, there had been none of that when Marley had opened his eyes and felt the lightness of the mattress all the more keenly than he had ever felt it before. He fumbled for his phone and — after finally relieving himself of the fear that he had not slept in — he found his screen left on the application in which his email from Grantham regarding the meetings for the three new executives had been stored when, in fact, Marley had left it upon the search engine. Though, really, was it truly so surprising for me to imply that the passcodes to such important and confidential information were shared between partners as closely as their business interests? I think not. Scrooge and Marley had been in this together for far too long not to share such things, even if it had become a more lackadaisical practice.

Marley needed neither a note or a message to recognise that Scrooge had gone ahead without him this early morning which, in all fairness, was barely an unnatural occurrence when his husband had been in one of those 'moods'. In retrospect, Marley should have expected as much when Scrooge all but dragged himself to bed the night before with nary a passing glance in his direction, and curled himself away from the centre of the bed with a scowl deeper than the ocean, if one could imagine the ocean having a scowl. The shadows had danced across the bedroom wall as Marley rubbed the sleep from his eyes, reflecting the turbulent storm that had raged within him for some time now. Be that as it may, Marley had to concede, for what little it was worth, that Scrooge had the foresight and the sensibility to prepare a decent breakfast for him, despite his early departure. A simple continental breakfast: Some fresh fruits he had bought only recently, a flaky croissant from the bakery over yonder, and a steaming cup of coffee, not to be shared this time around.

Breakfast went on without a word to be spoken, even as Marley longed to speak about the weather they were having, or the complaints at work, or the plans for the day, or the plans for the future, or something! Anything! Everything! Alas, in this sad, sad morning, he had no one to voice his thoughts to, save for a tiny whisper in his mind that told him that all was wrong. That small, pitiful, tiny, innocuous, inconspicuous voice that told him that he wasn't worth it, that Scrooge had always been better off without him, that he was the very deadweight that kept Asplex Industries from soaring ever higher, that he was nothing but a failure, a mistake, a blight, a heavy chain.

He swallowed those thoughts just as easily as he had his coffee. And his phone buzzed on the table the second he had.

Scrooge: Our candidate for the role of CMO is meeting us at a restaurant for brunch, of all things. The usual spot. Grantham warned me he’s eccentric.

Marley hastily typed out a reply.

Marley: I’m on my way, Ben. Thanks for breakfast.

It took less than a minute for Scrooge to respond.

Scrooge: It was nothing. Just get here soon.

Now, it is hardly a surprise when I say that Marley was never one to indulge in the fanciful luxuries of delicacies and indulgences, Scrooge even more so. But in the greater sense of things, the thought of a well-prepared brunch on a chilly winter morning was not one to be easily dismissed. And so it was with a tentative, cautious smile that Marley gathered his things and left the house, got in his car, drove the route, and met Scrooge outside the restaurant with nary a word passing between them. The staff had been unremarkably surprised when both men had returned for the second time that week, as they had only ever darkened their doorstep for a routine that seemed more robotic than innate, pursuing their usual solitary dinners. To comment on such quizzical deviations, however, would be to intrude upon the firmament of Asplex's taciturn rulers, and none among those within the establishment dared to risk the perceived audacity. 

Their usual spot — a quiet little nook tucked away in the corner — welcomed them with its familiar ambiance. The soft hum of muted conversations and the clinking of cutlery filled the air as Scrooge and Marley took their seats and took their proffered menus.  The place had been known for its indulgence of the festivities, or rather a lack thereof, owing to the predilections of its regular patrons, Scrooge and Marley included. The restaurant seemed to share the same disdain for unnecessary frivolities as its frequent visitors, opting for a subdued and understated holiday decor that whispered of taste rather than extravagance.

It was their restaurant. There was no doubt about that. But all at once a transformation had occurred, a collocation of circumstances that changed the atmosphere from one of unremarkable routine to an impending spectacle. Familiarity and unfamiliarity, if you will. There was no part of the walls or the ceiling that wasn’t covered with clinquant decor, crimsons and verdants, drowning so that it looked like Vincent van Gogh’s paintbrush had gained sentience and run amok in a Christmas workshop. The once-muted ambiance was now awash with the glow of twinkling lights and shimmering ornaments, reflecting and refracting light in a mass of starlight.

The staff, too, had traded their customary attire for festive elven garb, bedecked with bells and dazzling glitter ribbons that jingled with every movement. And the centrepiece of this metamorphosis had been a cornucopia of exquisite delectables, the likes of which would be far too bountiful for the average table, filled with turkey, ham, lamb, beef, and all sorts of accompaniments. Mince pies, apple pies, pumpkin pies, pecan pies, cranberry pies, if there were more I could name off the top of my head, I most certainly would! The roasts were succulent and tender and brimming with flavour often skimped, the puddings rich and dense and boiled to perfection, and the eggnog… oh, the eggnog had been plentiful, and more than enough to satiate and intoxicate even the most seasoned of connoisseurs. There had even been delights to accommodate those who hadn't a palate for meat, or those whose faith forbade such indulgences, a thoughtful gesture for which both Marley and Scrooge secretly commended the management, even if they never voiced it. 

And amidst it all in dining debauchery — equipped with three, maybe four beer mugs, bursting at the seams — there stood a large, pot-bellied man with a red-headed mop of hair with a beard so unruly and wild and untamed, and a glow in his amber eyes the likes of which had been severely lacking in the midst of Scrooge and Marley’s unsteady morning.

“Top o’ the mornin’ to ye, lads! Come o’er here! Don’t be worryin’, I won’t be takin’ a nip at ya!”

Scrooge and Marley passed a cursory glance between each other before entering with trepidation. This man’s eyes were kind and comforting, so much so that Marley couldn’t help but avert his gaze.

“You are Preslan Sullivan, correct?” Scrooge inquired with a drawl, unimpressed.

“That I am!” Preslan grinned. “Bet ye’ve ne’er seen the like o’ this before!” 

“Never here, that's for sure.” Marley shook his head.

Preslan chuckled heartily, the sound echoing through the festive chaos of the restaurant.

“Aye, I thought it'd be a grand idea to bring a bit of merriment to yer mundane meetings!” Preslan gestured towards the extravagant spread laid out before them. “Ye can't make decisions on an empty stomach, now can ye?”

Scrooge regarded Preslan with a sceptical eye. “We’re here to discuss business, Mr. Sullivan. Let’s not get carried away with theatrics.”

“Now, now, Mr. Scrooge, ye can’t be all business and no pleasure!” Preslan exclaimed as he added one too many shots of Baileys to his already generous mug of eggnog. “Ye’ve got to learn to loosen the tie a bit, let the wind ruffle yer hair!”

Scrooge's expression remained unchanged, that much was clear, though Marley couldn't help but find the joviality infectious. He offered a tentative smile, realising that perhaps a bit of merriment wouldn't hurt. It was a damn shame that Scrooge didn’t seem to share his sentiment, but from the look of intrigue on Preslan’s face, perhaps it would not be long before he did.

“Take a seat, lads!” Preslan motioned to the chairs, urging them to comply. “We’ll get to it, don’t ye worry, but first, let’s partake in the feast laid out before us!”

The two partners exchanged another glance, and with a subtle nod from Scrooge, they reluctantly took their seats. The aroma of roasted meats and sweet pies wafted through the air, filling the atmosphere with a festive fragrance that seemed to melt away the remnants of morning melancholy. Preslan, undeterred by Scrooge's stern demeanour, grabbed a turkey leg with his bare hands and bit into it with gusto. Bits of meat clung to his beard, and he grinned, seemingly unbothered by the lack of decorum. Scrooge fought the urge to gag at the man’s uncouth and unabashed display.

“Delicious, ain’t it? Nothin’ like a good feast to warm the heart and lighten the mood.” Preslan declared between hearty bites.

Marley, who had been initially reserved, found himself chuckling. The infectious spirit of the season, coupled with Preslan’s unapologetic joy, was breaking down the barriers of their usual rigid routine.

“Now, onto business.” Preslan wiped his hands on a used strip of tissue, his expression shifting to a more professional tone. “I’ve heard yer company could use a wee bit of a marketing makeover, and that’s where I come into the picture.”

“You’re external?” Scrooge asked incredulously.

“That I am! And afore bein’ external, I used to work as an investigative journalist for a year or two before I managed to snag meself enough evidence to expose some high and mighty folks, but that’s a story for another time.” Preslan leaned back, his chair creaking under the weight of a man who clearly enjoyed his feasts. “Then I moved into advertising, where I found the real magic. Weave a yarn, give it a bit of sparkle, and lo and behold, the masses come flockin’.”

Marley narrowed his eyes. “Investigative journalist turned marketer. Quite the transition.”

“Aye, but not as drastic as ye might think. Both require a keen sense of what people want, what makes 'em tick, what grabs their attention. It's all about tellin' a good story, isn’t it?” Preslan chuckled.

Marley found himself nodding in agreement, appreciating the perspective that Preslan brought to the table.

“So, let’s cut to the chase,” Preslan continued, leaning forward. “I’ve taken a gander at Asplex’s current marketing strategies, and I must say, they're as bland as a week-old soda. No offence intended, Mr. Scrooge.”

Scrooge raised an eyebrow, but gestured for him to continue.

“What ye need is a bit o’ zest! A dash o’ excitement! Somethin’ to reel people in, to make ‘em feel somethin’, to want somethin’. Right now, it’s like watching paint dry. And no one wants to watch paint dry. Except one of my older brothers, but he’s always been a quirky lad. Have you met him?”

“I can’t say we have.” Marley replied. “How many siblings do you have?”

“Ten in all, and one more on the way!” Preslan grinned, as if the prospect of having eleven siblings was a source of pride rather than potential chaos.

“Eleven?” Scrooge muttered, clearly taken aback. “I shudder to think of the grocery bills…”

Preslan reached over to the table, grabbing a mince pie with enthusiasm before continuing. “Now, good ol’ Grantham allowed me to schedule some few events for the day to get ye both out into the world and see what the people really want, not just what ye think they want.”

Scrooge’s eyes widened. “Wait, what did Grantham—”

“Now, enough talk! Might as well show ye what I have planned, eh?”

Without even waiting for a response from either of the two men, Preslan stood from his chair with a flourish, downed his eggnog with nary a second thought, and gripped the arms of the two CEOs before dragging them into the festive chaos of the restaurant. Scrooge shot Marley an exasperated look, but Marley found himself swept up in the unexpected energy of the moment, laughing at the absurdity of it all. Preslan navigated through the sea of decorations and merry patrons, his laughter ringing out like a jolly anthem amidst the holiday festivities. The restaurant staff, dressed in their festive elf attire, glanced at the trio with a mix of surprise and amusement.

“Come on, lads! We’ve got places to be, people to see!” Preslan declared, leading them out of the restaurant and onto the bustling streets.

This is hardly the way I conduct business meetings, Mr. Sullivan.” Scrooge retorted as a wave of chill hit his features like a truck.

Preslan turned around with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “That’s the problem, Mr. Scrooge! Ye’ve been conducting ‘em like a funeral procession. It’s time to breathe some life into these affairs!”

The warmth, the food, and the elves all vanished instantly as they stepped out into the brisk winter morning of Canary Wharf, where people had long since forgotten about the whims and worries of the previous day to focus on the hustle and bustle of the current one. Men and women of all sorts trudged through the rare fall of white that had settled in inches despite the usual resistance of the London weather and the otherwise muted celebrations around the financial district. And even as Scrooge, Marley, and Preslan travelled alongside their fellows, there was almost a sort of music in the air. Hardly unpleasant, mind you, and hardly traditional, but there was a symphony in the way the snow was scraped away from the pavements, the way boots crunched beneath their feet, the distant honking of cars, and even the rare sounds of laughter between children.

The towering buildings that littered the area like sentinels of metal and glass seemed almost to soften against the white canvas, sunlight reflecting against their surfaces in a dance of an ethereal, heavenly glow of that celestial object. The sky above the streets seemed much brighter than one could expect with such weather — as if anyone could expect English weather — with a hint of blue peeking through the otherwise overcast sky of grey. The River Thames flowed as patiently as ever, glistening in the distance, a serpentine stretch of water winding its way through the heart of the city. And all the businesses themselves of all sorts of trades and stocks made the most of the festive season, dancing upon the threshold of extreme and delicate, with decals of snowflakes and baubles plastered upon the windows, and giant red ribbons with entrancing lights adorned the facades of the cosy cafés and busy boutiques.

And it seemed then that the atmosphere itself had spread to the ones who trod upon those paths, for as they lifted their shutters and flipped their signs, and where on any other day they would have given merely a glance and the occasional smile to one another, today there was a shared sense of merriment, of laughter, of jubilance, as if the very air itself carried the spirit of the season into every heart and every exchange. They would call out to one another, wishing each a Merry Christmas, and to those who did not celebrate, they offered heartfelt seasons’ greetings and a happy holiday in their own traditions. Even the normally stoic businesspersons who would spend far more time in the confines of their offices than indulge in genuine camaraderie seemed to crack a smile or two as their families came to visit them.

It was as if, for that brief moment, the entire district had collectively decided to embrace the season that often eluded them in their day-to-day pursuits, content to forget the pains and struggles of the other months of the year. Older souls, aged with wisdom and aged with the aches that came with their long-lived existences looked more like schoolboys and schoolgirls having just come out of their final examinations, bending down with an odd rejuvenation as they exchanged waggish snowballs — far better dialogue than testy jokes and jests, in my honest opinion — with all the energy that had eluded them for many a year.

But then the sun rose ever higher, and brunch neared ever closer to lunch, the hours ticking by far too quickly, as they often do, and out came all the good people from their confines of glass to the streets, flocking like the pigeons that had grown accustomed to the nature of their human companions on the cobblestone, and gathered about a singular bakery by which it had been filled with all manner of delightful confections and treats that would have put a grin on many a solemn face and satiate those peckish souls in need of a powerful sustenance to get them through the day. The sight of such a gathering seemed to interest Preslan well enough that he had diverted his attention from the streets and led Scrooge and Marley to the doorway, and as each person stepped through with their minimal lunch in hand, Preslan would go to greet him or her or them and wish them a Merry Christmas. Sometimes it had been with a pat on the back, sometimes it had been with a light tap, fluent signs, and hand gestures, and sometimes he had but helped one down the steps with an affable chuckle and a quiet greeting. But all of those times had been genuine. Truly, fully genuine. And even as there would be some words of disgruntlement spoken between customer and waiter, Preslan stood as an intermediary, gave a grin or a pastry, and reminded them that it had been nearly Christmas. What a terrible thing it would have been to have an argument near Christmas!

“I’m surprised you didn’t pull what you did back at the restaurant over here, Sullivan.” Marley mused. “Do people hold you in such high regard?”

“I hold meself in high regard!” Preslan replied.

“Do you often perform such stunts of charity with food and booze?” Marley questioned.

“I do it for any sort of eatery! And especially for a strugglin’ eatery.” Preslan answered.

“Why a struggling one especially?” Marley tilted his head.

“Because they need it especially.” Preslan spoke, as if it had been the most obvious thing in the world.

Scrooge had been uninterested in such drivel, but Marley hummed for a moment, pondering his next words. “Well, I’m curious as to why you go to such trouble. You hold no stake in these businesses. They aren’t your ventures. You have no obligation to boost their morale or their sales.

Preslan looked at Marley with a twinkle in his eye, as if he had been waiting for someone to ask that very question. “Ye’ve hit the nail on the head, Mr. Marley! No, I don’t be ownin’ these places, and I don’t be gettin’ a single penny from their profits. But what I do be havin’ is a belief, and a strong one at that.”

“And that is?” Marley gestured inquisitively.

Preslan smiled warmly. “The belief that every wee business, every little corner shop, and every strugglin’ eatery is a part o’ one whole community. A community that grows and shifts with every day, with every month, with every year. And if I can bring a bit o’ cheer and prosperity to them, well… that’s payment aplenty for me. I think it’d do ye both some good if ye remember that.”

Marley promised that he would, Scrooge kept to himself, and soon they all went on, away from the bakery and into the busier portions of the city which had been, unsurprising as it was, the shopping centre and its surrounding roads. Scrooge reasoned then, logically, that it was due to the approaching holiday season, and the last-minute shopping fervour that gripped the hearts of procrastinators. People rushed about, laden with bags and parcels, the air filled with excitement and anticipation. Preslan, leading the way, navigated through the bustling crowd with an agility that belied his portly appearance, occasionally exchanging cheerful greetings with strangers and shopkeepers alike.

And it was Preslan’s kind, generous, hearty nature, sprinkled in with sympathy for the impoverished and the struggling, that led him and the CEOs he would soon work under more directly to one of many of Asplex’s retail and repair stores, defined only by the hexagonal symbol emblazoned above the entrance, and two embossed letters, glowing faintly white. An ‘S’ and an ‘M’, brought together only by a single link in a chain. Marley had designed that logo, many years ago, when the aspirations of the company had been more about simplicity and solidarity, and the corporate maelstrom they found themselves in had been nothing more than a gentle breeze in the wind.

Back when it had just been them and their partnership. Their friendship. Their love. Marley wondered, for the briefest of moments, where it had all gone wrong.

It was hardly the time for introspection, however, as they all entered. It was busy, as was to be expected, and shoppers from all walks of life found themselves browsing and perusing the shelves stocked to the brim with gadgets and gizmos of all kinds, from tablets to phones to smartwatches. There was an air of desperation and procrastination, the occasional chime of a cash register breaking through the consultations and the discussions.

And there stood Mrs. Emily Cratchit, the wife of Scrooge and Marley’s own personal secretary, scouring the wares with a fine eye that seemed almost methodical in nature and dressed in a well-worn fleece jacket that had seen its fair share of winters. Standing beside her and deep in discussion had been Belinda and Peter Cratchit, her second eldest daughter and her eldest son respectively, both donning winter jackets of the same calibre and appearing to argue about the merits of various electronic devices. And followed them were two smaller, younger Cratchits, a boy and girl, Oliver and Zoe, twins in every sense of the word, giggling and laughing and gasping as they begged and pleaded for the latest gaming console that had been proudly displayed in the store’s glass cabinets, trapped in with only a singular lock to act as a deterrent for the prospective robbers.

“Belinda, I’m telling you, a tablet is much handier than a laptop these days! Portable, efficient, and you can do all sorts of things with it!” Peter argued, waving a sleek tablet in the air.

Belinda, with a raised eyebrow, retorted back with a fiery zeal. “And how am I supposed to type up my assignments on a touchscreen? A laptop’s much better for that, and it’s got a proper keyboard.”

“Yeah, but with a tablet, you can sketch and draw, and it’s got all these cool apps! It’s the future, Bel!”

Emily chimed in, her gaze focused on a display of smartphones. “Now, now, you two. Let’s not bicker. We’re here to get a baby monitor for our Tiny Tim, not to have a family squabble. Oliver! Zoe! Stop running around, you’ll knock something over!”

“But look at all the gadgets, Mum!” Oliver whined.

“Yeah, look! Look!” Zoe jumped excitedly, pointing to the consoles almost as big as her.

“We’re not giving them Scrooge and Marley any more than we need to, kids. Let's just get what we need and get our, alright?” 

Zoe and Oliver vocalised their annoyance, but like any child, they acquiesced in the end. It was clear enough that Emily held a disdain for Scrooge and Marley, and it spread enough to her offspring.

Soon, a young woman walked in, dishevelled but seemingly satisfied. “Sorry I’m late, Mum.”

“Oh, there you are, Martha!” Emily greeted her eldest daughter happily, kissing her half a dozen times on the cheeks and fixing up her coat after Martha had finally told her to stop. “Where in God’s name have you been?”

Martha chuckled, adjusting her scarf. "I was caught up in the holiday traffic, Mum. The city is buzzing with last-minute shoppers. Is Dad here?"

Emily, at the mention of her husband, let out a dismal sigh. “In the back. Apparently he’s got to do one last firing before the holidays.”

“Two days before Christmas?” Martha exclaimed incredulously.

“It’s his job, sweetie. The manager’s been behind on her targets. Your father’s just the unfortunate bearer of bad news.” Emily shrugged noncommittally, knowing that this had been all too common in his line of work, being so high in the conglomerate’s food chain, so to speak.

A shame, Preslan thought, for he had planned to collaborate with the manager on a most splendid marketing stunt. But, alas, that would have to wait until a new one could be found, if a new one could be found.

“C-Cratchit-sama, please! This work is very important to me, I cannot lose it now! Not before the holidays!” 

It surprised them all to see just how scared this woman actually was. She looked no older than her early twenties, clad in a crisp white uniform, her eyes pleading and red from what seemed like tears restrained. She held a tablet in her hands, clutching it as if her life depended on it.

“I understand, Miss Nakamura. Truly, I do.” Bob replied solemnly with a voice that carried both empathy and helplessness, raising his hands in defeat. “But the decision has come from higher up, my hands are tied just as much as yours are. You know how it is this time of year; they’ll find any excuse to cut costs.”

“B-But I have a little sister to take care of, and hospital bills to pay, I cannot just—”

“Mr. Marley? Is that you?” Bob interrupted the woman’s pleading, and I must stress that he did not mean to, but at the sight of his boss, he immediately straightened up and adjusted his coat, attempting to compose himself despite the grim situation.

“Cratchit.” Marley acknowledged, a sense of weariness etched into his tone as he barely batted an eye towards the manager. “What’s happening here?”

“I’m merely fulfilling the layoffs you requested, Mr. Marley.” Bob replied, almost monotonously. “Yukiko Nakamura is the manager for the establishment in this sector. After that, I have to speak with one Michael Hollis, the manager for the retail branch in Lakeside, and then it’s off to be with my family.”

Marley issued a brief glance over to Bob’s wife, who seemed to be just as distressed as Nakamura had been — plus a tad more annoyed than she had been before, even with her rambunctious children — and soon turned to avoid his gaze.

“I thought Scrooge gave you Christmas off?” Marley raised an eyebrow.

“W-Well, I just wanted to get these last few bits done before I headed off.” Bob replied, his words trailing off in a voice almost timid and soft.

Marley turned to Nakamura then, and by some false hope, her eyes lit up like the blessed star upon a Christmas tree. Scrooge and Preslan watched from the side, but it had been Scrooge who turned away from it all, impatiently tapping his foot against the floor.

“Y-You’re Jacob Marley-sama?” Nakamura cried, a glimmer of hope in her tearful eyes. “Please, I-I have given my all to this company, and I have always worked so hard! My little sister depends on me, and I cannot afford to lose my job now! I beg of you, please reconsider!”

Marley regarded Nakamura with an impassive expression. “I—”

Scrooge narrowed his eyes as the hushed whispers began to grow ever louder. Whispers between those who scorned them behind their backs and wailed beneath their feet, begging for a relief that never came.

“Has she gone mad?” 

“She’s asking the bloody Snake of London for mercy!”

“If Bob Hatchet wouldn’t let her, what makes her think she can plead to Marley?”

“She’s as desperate as a mouse before a viper.”

“I sure as hell won’t be drinking to a sight like this. Not for foul, parsimonious, stiff, unemotive men like Scrooge and Marley.” Emily threw her two pennies into the pot.

“My dear… it’s almost Christmas.” Bob chided gently.

“Well I really won’t drink to a couple like them!” Emily hissed under her breath, her head motioning to the men who had caused such strife. “The Shark and the Snake… why, they’re sure as hell right for each other, that’s for sure. It’s a wonder how they stand each other under the covers…”

“Emily!”

“Fine!” Emily rolled her eyes. “I won’t say another word. For your sake, not for theirs.”

Marley sighed inwardly, a lethargic weight upon his shoulders as the harsh reality of their positions and the judgments of those around them settled in. The store's atmosphere seemed to shift, the festive cheer outside the glass walls juxtaposed against the heavy tension within. Scrooge observed Marley with a mixture of concern and curiosity, wondering if his partner would break away from his stern, stoic demeanour.

Marley shook his head, trying to keep his dutiful nature in check. "Miss Nakamura, I understand that these are challenging times, especially during the holiday season. However, decisions regarding layoffs are made after careful consideration of the company's overall situation. It's not a decision made lightly, and I assure you, it's not a reflection of your dedication or hard work."

Nakamura's eyes brimmed with tears, and she desperately clutched the tablet in her hands. "Please, Marley-sama, I can do better! I can improve the performance of the branch! Just give me a chance, sir!"

Bob, standing beside her, interjected with a pleading look. "Mr. Marley, if I may… she's been an asset to our team. The issues we're facing are not entirely within her control. If there's any way we could reconsider—"

Scrooge, who had been observing in silence for far too long, finally spoke up. "Marley, we don't have time for individual appeals. The decision has been made, and we need to move on."

Marley glanced between Nakamura and Scrooge, torn between empathy and the cold efficiency that had been the hallmark of their business decisions. But the longer he had remained silent, the more sure that Yukiko Nakamura had been regarding the final stance. How could she not be sure? It had been Bob Cratchit himself who spoke to her, and Marley sure wasn’t responding to any of her pleas in the way she so desired. It was a sad situation, one that, I must confess, had been all too familiar in recent times. She was young, and young souls were often disposable to those who held the power to make or break their livelihoods. It was how kind, timid, soft old Bob Cratchit had been given the nickname Bob ‘Hatchet’. A sad affair, one that held much bitterness in the tongue of his wife, but it was an affair nonetheless.

But Nakamura looked at both of them with a pleading gaze for one final, desperate attempt, and then she at last slumped her shoulders, tilted her head down in shame, whispered murmured apologies, and made her way to the back to finally get her things. And soon Bob had left too, with his wife and Martha following closely along without a baby monitor, with Belinda and Peter without their laptop or their tablet, and with little Oliver and Zoe trailing disappointedly without their gaming console.

And Marley watched. Marley listened. Marley yearned.

“Sullivan… no, Preslan.” Marley corrected himself, his gaze still upon where the young woman had disappeared into the confines of the offices hidden from the public. “Tell me that I’d done the right thing by not speaking up.”

“I’ve seen that woman many times in me visits here.” Preslan replied. “She’s a bright lass, got a good head on her shoulders. But her younger sister got a nasty case of pneumonia, and this had been her only source of income.”

“Oh God… tell me I’ve not made a mistake.” Marley paled, turning to Scrooge for guidance.

“It’s unlikely that she’ll be able to find work at this time of the year.” Scrooge shook his head. “But really, Marley, why should you care? Why should we care? It is not as though it were you or I who sired them.”

Marley hung his head low, his heart stung by the words spoken from his own mouth, and was filled with a great penitence and grief that Scrooge remained dismally and wholly unaware of even when they at last left the store and into the long corridors of the shopping centre.

“Scrooge, Marley.” Preslan began with such a sternness that you would expect him to be the CEO, and they the prospective CMOs. “If either of ye’re human at heart and not just cogs in the rusty corporate machine, then ye cannot be entirely blind to the consequences of yer decisions. We’re all members of one body. We’re all responsible for each other.”

Scrooge shot Preslan a withering glare for even daring, while Marley, still burdened by guilt and chastened by the Irishman’s reprimand, lowered his eyes to the tiles below him.

Again they all sped on, past the shops and the stores that held no appeal. Upon the escalators crammed with people. They stood upon the concrete of the expansive parking lot and out into the crisp winter air, where the snow had lightly dusted the parked cars and their surroundings. Without Marley’s Vauxhall Velox to be their chariot, the couple had to instead settle for Preslan’s rather modest Ford Escort, which seemed to fit itself in nicely with the rest of the family cars littered about. Preslan ushered them towards his car, a mischievous glint in his eyes, as if he had another surprise up his sleeve.

"Now, lads, Don’t be lettin’ the doom and gloom settle in. We've got one final stop to make." Preslan declared, taking a long drink from a hip flask he kept on his person.

Scrooge, still mulling over the recent events, arched an eyebrow. "Another stop? What could be so urgent that it requires our immediate attention?"

Preslan grinned, the edges of his eyes crinkling with the infectious energy he seemed to exude. "Ye'll see, Mr. Scrooge. Ye'll see."

The trio huddled into the Ford Escort, Marley occupying the back seat while Scrooge took the front passenger seat. Preslan, with his robust presence, took the driver's seat, enthusiastically starting the engine. The car rolled out of the parking lot and back into the city, the tires humming against the asphalt.

As they navigated through the bustling streets, Preslan hummed a traditional Irish tune from his childhood, the melody weaving through the air with a certain lightness that contrasted the weight that lingered within the vehicle. Scrooge scrolled through the news apps on his phone, lost in thought, while Marley kept his gaze fixed on the passing scenery, the guilt still etched on his features as he wrung his hands together. Preslan, however, seemed undeterred by the heavy atmosphere. His infectious spirit didn't waver, and he occasionally glanced at the rearview mirror, his eyes catching Marley's reflective gaze. The radio, brought to life by Preslan’s nimble fingers, played the depressing overtones of the local media through static and grain.

“...Two children, a boy and a girl, have been caught up in a tragic fire at a local orphanage. Authorities are investigating the cause, but early reports suggest a faulty heating system. The caretakers had named the lost children as Ignatius and Wanette, and sources say—”

Preslan reached for the volume knob and turned it down, keeping his gaze on the road.

“What’s wrong?” Scrooge asked sarcastically, his gaze turned from his phone with a wry smile. “Don’t want to hear the grisly details of another unfortunate incident? Why, shouldn’t we help those poor kids in these trying times?”

“Ebenezer…” Marley began, an odd fury swelling within him.

“Just ‘cause I'm bothered about the outcomes of our deeds doesn't mean I'm keen on drownin' meself in the never-endin' reminder of the world's sorrows, or revellin' in it like some selfish knight in shiny armour, now." Preslan retorted, his eyes focused on the road ahead. "We can't save everyone, but we can make a difference where we can."

Scrooge chuckled dryly, "Well, aren't you the saviour of lost causes."

Preslan shot him a stern look. "No one’s e’er a lost cause, Scrooge. After all, ye yerself can’t forget where ye came from, bein’ sent away.”

Scrooge’s eyes widened with such implications. “How did—”

“Why, ye don’t remember, Scrooge?” Preslan formed a small smirk as he looked into his rearview mirror. “I was an investigative journalist.”

The thought alone was enough to make them white in the face, but if they had been so, they did well not to show it on their stoic countenances. None of them uttered anything of note for the rest of the trip — a few anecdotes of Preslan’s colourful past that seemed almost unnecessary considering the recent troubles — until they had at last reached their destination. They were surprised enough that the drive had been so short, a few minutes at most, and yet the afternoon sun had already dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the city streets. The car rolled to a stop in front of an inconspicuous building, and Preslan turned off the engine. The atmosphere inside the car shifted from tension to a curious anticipation.

"Here we are, lads! A wee bookstore I like to call me home away from home!"

The building before them was an old-fashioned, three-story townhouse, nestled among other buildings of similar vintage. The brick exterior had weathered years of London's unpredictable climate, but the warmth emanating from the windows hinted at a welcoming interior. Without another word, and having made it abundantly clear that he cared little for personal space, Preslan ushered them inside, and it was then that they all heard a joyous laugh, a rambunctious laugh. A laugh so affable that it could be considered contagious. The bell above the door jingled merrily as they stepped into the cosy bookstore. The interior was a delightful maze of shelves lined with books of every genre imaginable. The scent of old paper and ink wafted through the air, creating an atmosphere that transported them to a different era. Soft, warm lighting illuminated the space, casting a golden glow over the worn wooden floors. 

And through it all, the laughs continued. And by God, they were such joyous chuckles, chortles, and cackles! Why, if I have ever heard laughter that could be likened to a fine symphony, this would be it. And don’t you dare to presume that you could find such a creature blessed with joy such as this, I would very much like to introduce you to one Ebenezer L. P. Scrooge and Jacob A. T. Marley’s nephew, Fred. There he was, amidst the stacks of books, his face contorting in all manners of ways with a twinkle in his eye and a beaming smile that could light up the darkest corners of the shop.

“Hoy! Frederick! Keep your voice down or you’ll scare the customers!” Aurora Villanueva — a busty woman with greying black hair pinned by pens and pencils, and Fred’s mother in all but blood — chastised, before she muttered an apology to an eager supporter of her novels with a smile as she signed yet another one with a keen and swift flick of her wrist.

“Pasensya na po, Nay, but can you blame me?” Fred cried, wiping a tear from his eye. “You should have seen the way Tito Ben and Tito Jake looked at me when I burst into his office! I thought their heads were going to explode!”

“Now, Fred, you shouldn’t be interrupting people in their workplace, especially during such a busy time." Fan, Scrooge’s younger sister and a star in her own right, scolded gently as she tuned her guitar, a final gift from a mother she never knew.

Scrooge had nearly forgotten how she had looked, for she had been pretty; incredibly pretty, even as the years had begun to grey her once lustrous brown hair and etched worried lines on her face. He had not taken a second glance at his sister in… many, many years. Far too many for him to count. And why would he dare to spare a moment for her? It was she who abandoned him when their father had all but scorned him because of his romantic orientation, and Fan had chosen the life of love over loyalty. She had chosen Aurora over him, her own flesh and blood. And for that, Scrooge had resented her, condemned her even. But seeing her now, surrounded by the warmth and love that Fred and Aurora showered upon her, it all felt too much to bear. Far too much to bear.

“Sorry Mum.” Fred shrugged, unknowing of their new company who had been hidden behind some shelves. “I mean, I always found them weird in a way, and they’re far from nice to me. But it’s their lives, and I hold nothing against them, really.”

“Well, with how rich they are, you’d think they could afford to be a bit kinder.” Aurora quipped. “God knows they don’t give it to us.”

Fred merely smiled. “They could have all the money in the world and still be poorer than us, Nay. We've got love, and that's worth more than anything they could ever offer.”

“You’re far more forgiving to them than I am, Fred.” Fan observed, shaking her head. Her wife, as well as those they had taken in from the streets, expressed the same opinion.

“I’m more sorry for them, really.” Fred sighed sadly. “I get that I’m not as driven as Tito Ben, or as charming as Tito Jake, but they certainly don’t seem happy. I mean, when was the last time you saw them smile, Mum?”

“They have their own ways of expressing happiness, I suppose.” Fan replied diplomatically, avoiding a direct answer. “In any case, it’s their fault if they don’t want to join us for Christmas dinner.”

“Let them starve. They can wither into skeletons for all I care.” Aurora had finished the last of her signings, adjusted her glasses upon the bridge of her nose, and gave Fan a quick peck on the cheek. “Speaking of dinner, would you like some food, Topper? We have leftover pancit.”

Topper Fezziwig — the good-natured and rebellious son of Scrooge’s old flame — had been clearly enamoured and with a longing gaze towards his best friend, Fred, since childhood, and responded with a polite and succinct agreement, wrapping an arm around his dearest companion and wishing to never let go.

“It’s funny, really.” Fred laughed, squeezing Topper’s hand. “Tito Ben and Tito Jake… they’re Ebenezer Scrooge and Jacob Marley. The power couple that everyone talks about in the corporate world. The Shark and Snake of London. But is it so great to be so scary? To instil fear into the hearts of everyone within a hundred-mile radius?” 

“Scary? Nah, I think it’s more sad than scary.” Topper chimed in, leaning against his shoulder. “I mean, they’re successful, sure, but what’s the point if you’re miserable and everyone around you is too?”

Fred nodded in agreement. “Exactly, Topper. I’d rather be the shitshow who brings a smile to people's faces than the feared and respected man who leaves a trail of misery behind."

“Language, Fred!” Aurora scolded, wagging her finger at him.

“Sorry, Nay. But it’s true! They’re like… well, I was going to say ghosts, but that would be insulting to our actual ghosts.” Fred chuckled.

Aurora turned to Fan. “Do you see what you’ve done, Fan? You’ve raised an insolent son.”

Fan laughed, embracing Fred. “I wouldn’t have him any other way.”

They laughed until they could laugh no more at the thought of their missing family members — though Scrooge and Marley longed to make a move, Preslan had kept them thoroughly obscured from view — and passed along the Filipino delicacy with such exuberance that its symbolism for a long and prosperous life had seemed almost as real as it had been believed.

And when all of the food had at last been cleared away and the poor souls without a home or family had been thoroughly fed with all they could stomach, Fan had taken to her stage atop a sturdy wooden table, picked up her guitar, and strummed a beautiful tune.

Now, for those unaware, I felt it prudent to discuss Fan’s profession as a whole, or else we would be doing her a great disservice. Fan Villanueva, née Scrooge, was a singer-songwriter, a performer, and an artist of the highest order. From London to New York, Tokyo to Rio, Paris to Singapore, her soulful voice and heartfelt lyrics had captivated audiences worldwide. Her songs spoke of love, loss, and the intricate dance of life, resonating with the struggles and triumphs of the human experience. She had been a rising star, a beacon of artistic brilliance in a world often overshadowed by corporate greed and heartless ambition.

As she strummed the first chords, the bookstore fell into a hushed silence. The soft melody wrapped around the room, filling the air with a gentle warmth. Fan closed her eyes, her fingers dancing gracefully on the strings, and began to sing a song that seemed to transcend time and space. It was a song of hope, of love, and of the enduring spirit that bound humanity together. Scrooge and Marley, though unknown to all there, couldn't help but be moved by the ethereal performance. Fan's voice carried with it a certain magic, a healing balm for weary souls. Preslan, sensing the gravity of the moment, stood silently, his eyes fixed on Fan as if he, too, had been transported to a different realm.

The verses unfolded like chapters in a cherished book, each note a brushstroke on the canvas of shared memories. It was a poignant reminder of the beauty that could be found in the simplest moments, in the connections between people, and in the power of compassion. And as Fan sang, her eyes finally met those of her brother, hidden in the shadows. There, in the depths of his gaze, she saw a glimmer of the family she once knew, the one who had been lost to the cold embrace of ambition and bitterness. For a fleeting moment, the barriers erected by time and circumstance seemed to crumble, and the siblings shared a silent understanding that transcended words.

For they might as well have been dead to each other. Estranged souls in the vast expanse of life.

When the final notes lingered in the air, Fan opened her eyes, the spell upon them both shattering in an instant, and Scrooge, perhaps unable to take the sights or the sounds or the smells any longer, left without so much as a single word. Preslan remained behind, but Marley lingered — tick, tock, tick, tock — hands clenched into fists filled with unspoken thoughts before he joined him. For he finally had enough. And everyone knows too well that when someone has had enough, words are spoken. Some are harsh, some are kind, but all are the truth if they will themselves to be so.

Scrooge was still some ways away, but Marley kept up with him despite the biting cold nipping at his heels and slithering into his being. One step, then another. Each movement held weight and strength. A stiffness only circumvented by the will of his shifting heart.

“Scrooge!” Marley called, keeping his brisk pace.

Silence.

“Scrooge, have you even been listening to what Preslan’s saying?” Marley was gaining.

More silence.

“Damn it, Ebenezer, look at me!”

Marley grasped his partner’s hand with a force that stopped him in his tracks. They stood in the quietude of a humble park, the shadow of the late evening bleeding into the darkness of the night. When Marley had taken his hand, they had stood under a large oaken tree, its branches bare and reaching towards the heavens like gnarled fingers against the canvas of midnight. There were no leaves to rustle against the wind, but the wind blew nonetheless, and a breeze caressed their faces with the cold touch of the season. But, if I were to be blunt and speak my mind, I’d find that Scrooge’s chill seemed more adamant as a barrier than Marley’s ever was, or ever would be.

“What do you want, Jacob?” Scrooge didn’t flinch away from Marley’s hand, but he was more than willing to if the harshness of his tone was enough indication.

Marley narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean by ‘what do I want’? This isn’t about me and you know it.”

“What is it about, then?” Scrooge rolled his eyes. “Because I don’t need another mouthpiece for Sullivan’s sermons. Especially not from you.”

“What do you want me to say, then?” Marley said, raising his voice.

“That Preslan Sullivan is a fool and we shouldn’t even consider him for the role of CMO. That this constant insistence on the spirit of Christmas and compassion and empathy isn’t worth shit. It’s not how the world works, Jacob. It’s not how our world works.”

Marley sighed, frustration evident on his face. "I'm not advocating for blind idealism, Ebenezer. I've lived in this world long enough to know it's not all rainbows and sunshine. But there has to be a balance. We can't keep pushing people away, treating them as nothing but cannon fodder, or shields to hide our misdeeds! Look at what happened today with Nakamura, or hell, even yesterday with Miss Talon and FezziTech! Can you stand here and tell me that it was all worth it?"

"What's the point, Jacob? What difference can we make in the grand scheme of things? People suffer, people rejoice, and the world keeps turning. It's all fleeting, transient." Scrooge retorted. “The lengths men and women would go to keep their secrets are as amazing as they are whimsical. A man of charity can turn to thievery. A flowered virgin can resort to copulation. A noble can fall from grace. A pauper can rise to glory. If you control the flow of secrets, you control human vulnerability. A man has to make his own way, and so long as he does that he won't come to much harm. We are Scrooge and Marley, Jacob. The Shark and the Snake. We stopped playing nice long ago when the world denied us our rights and our happiness.”

“And that gives us the right to do the same?!” Marley tightened his grip on Scrooge’s hand. “Fucking hell… we’re blackmailers, Ebenezer! Fucking! Blackmailers! We can posture about as men of business until it’s shoved so far up our arses that we can’t even see it anymore, but at the end of the day, that is what we are! We're responsible for the livelihoods and homes of tens of thousands! Why aren't we conducting ourselves as men of clemency?! Men of tolerance?! Of goodwill?!”

Scrooge yanked his hand away, snapping and snarking. “And why do you care now, Jacob? Would you still care about sentimentality if I gave you the latest phone? Or the keys to a bloody Ferrari?”

“I don’t want your things, Ebenezer!” Marley’s eyes brimmed with tears, but he refused to let them fall, biting on his tongue. “I want you! I want the man I love! I want the man I married!”

Scrooge blinked. Once. Twice. Thrice. He stared into Marley’s pleading green eyes, once shining with the emerald effervescence of a viper, now dulled by the burdens of time and the weight of their sins. A snake rarely ever shows its pain, the prideful creature as unyielding in its composure as it is in its venom. But in that moment, as the cold winds rustled through the barren branches above, as the shadows danced around them in the twilight, Marley’s heart was laid bare for the world to see and for him to see.

“We’re not married, Jacob.” Scrooge kept his voice level, with nary a single tremor even as he felt something prick his eyes. “I thought you knew that.”

Oh, and how the words stabbed deep into Marley’s bleeding heart, twisting and turning like a cruel dagger from a play of tragedy and ambition. Those who knew of his existence often fancied him to be more of an elusive spectre than a man, and yet, in that vulnerable moment, Jacob Marley felt the sharp pang of reality. The reality that he had long denied, buried beneath layers of ambition, power, and the facade of indifference. 

It was often said that Marley had always denied their relationship as nothing more than a simple arrangement, but it would be clear to anyone with a semblance of understanding that such a denial ran far deeper. It was love, pure and simple, yet so very maligned and complicated. A monstrous being unlike any other, for it was a monster borne with a golden crown and held a thorny sceptre. A love that had been both their solace and their torment, hidden away in the secret chambers of their hearts, draped in the tattered cloak of shame. The love that dared not speak its name, drowned out by the cacophony of their ruthless pursuits and the echoes of past betrayals.

But what did it matter? Should it have mattered? Marley had been the Snake of London, after all, so such things — such feelings — must have been beneath him!

Then it is time I tell you, dear reader, just how truly wrong you are. Because Marley was human, and he bled like any human. The only difference had been that he had bled far too much, and sooner or later, he would run out of blood to give to a man who had shaped him just as much as they shaped each other.

Marley turned away, unable to meet Scrooge’s gaze any longer. But before he had, he offered him a smile. A smile he used only in performances and in showcases, towards investors and stakeholders. A perfect smile as he charmed all with his prose and all his wit. The smile that was as hollow as the eyes that beheld it.

"Fine, Scrooge. You win." Marley said, his voice strained but defiant. "Go on, revel in your indifference and relish your victories. The Shark of London, the cunning inventor who navigates the cold seas of capitalism without a hint of remorse. I hope it brings you the happiness you so desperately seek."

Scrooge’s eyes widened, and he felt a peculiar squeeze against his chest as he reached out too late. “Jacob, wait—”

“Don’t come crying to me for comfort, because I have none to give. I’m as damned as much as you are.”

Jacob Marley stood, Ebenezer Scrooge left, and the rings felt tighter upon both of their fingers.

And when there had been no sign of Preslan in sight, another came in his stead. An unexpected guest, to be sure, but when at last that guest had spoken of his plight, Marley felt a stirring of his own. A new chance? A new beginning? He had not been so sure. But he offered anyway. Because how else could he save his sorry soul? What else could he do in such a situation?

Tagged: @rom-e-o@crimson-phantom-designs@quill-pen@a-christmas-carol-from-hr@ray-painter@pinkytoothlesso11

[nickgerlich]

Southern Fried

The job of the marketer has always been to shout a little louder than the next guy. As evidence of this, we need only look to the 1940s through 1960s, when one of the primary means of communication was the sign out front. At a time when neon, chaser bulbs, and huge arrows were the visual equivalent of SHOUTING, marketers had one choice: Make them bigger and bolder, or go home.

And if you Google Main Street images from that era, you will see exactly what I mean. Amarillo Boulevard, while not exactly center city, was Route 66, and that’s where all the interstate traffic was. It looked like Las Vegas lit up at night. “Stay here!” “Eat over here!” “No…over here!”

Television then augmented and forever changed the way we communicate, and it was during the 60s that TVs became common household appliances, sometimes with more than one in a house. Sneaky advertisers and broadcasters collaborated to make sure the audio was just a little bit louder on the adverts.

Skip forward to the early internet era, banner ads and other display communications relied on movement to get our attention. A static image is not going to snag eyeballs as well as dancing or flashing letters or video. It all became so much visual clutter, just like some municipalities decreed about all those neon signs.

And now, in the fully digital era, marketers have a slew of options available, but just like many decades ago, it all boils down to the attention economy. You must find a way to stand out among the crowd, whether you do it through your app, or sophisticated geo-fencing. But apps are a dime a dozen, and our phones are filling up. Contrary to what some may think, there is an upper limit to how many apps you can save, and the one you downloaded years ago for Taco Bell may be lost amid dozens of others. Geo-fencing brings its own hazards, such as distracting people while driving.

But then there is text messaging, something that is now considered soooo-20th century (the first SMS text message was sent in 1992). Since texting is a primary means of communication between us and family, friends, and colleagues, it remains open as an important channel. It catches our attention with a ding and a screen notification.

KFC franchisee KBP brands is relying on the ability of text messages to rise above the clutter, and just launched a new customer engagement tool to all of its 847 KFC franchises. It will allow for narrowcasting to the demographics of a particular restaurant’s area, and carry promos, regionalized menu preferences, and even recognize nearby competition.

Now, I fully understand that text messages are an imperfect medium, as are all the rest. We are already inundated with text messages from a variety of contacts, including restaurants with whom we previously opted-in. I still receive periodic texts from Chipotle, something I signed up for years ago, but as I noted recently, have not been back in years.

Then there are the spam and phishing texts we receive, hoping that we will fall for the urgency of the message. KBP Brands will have to work hard to overcome these weaknesses, although their test market at 162 of their shops (kudos to them for doing this the right way) showed a 30% growth rate in subscribers. Of courses, when you start at zero, monthly growth rates can look pretty impressive. The bottom line is whether those messages generate sales, repeat visits, and brand loyalty.

Another feature of the messages is that they can include coupons as well as ties to a user’s digital wallet. Now you’re talking! Coupons can easily be redeemed regardless of how an order is placed, and tying it to my Apple Pay, for example, is just smart.

The beauty of text message programs is that they are cheap to implement. Someone has to write the message copy and load it, but sending them out is effectively free. Increased customer engagement is an intangible that has value, but added sales is something that goes straight to the bottom line.

To be fair, the long-term success of this program depends in large part on how many people opt-in, their response to the calls-to-action, and then—ultimately—staying above the din. If competitors see the program being successful, it will breed copycats.

For now, though, this seems like a wise move for KBP, the largest KFC franchisee in the US. As for KFC, it is one of the largest fast-food chains, and although owned by Yum! Brands these days, loves to harken back to the old days when Col. Harlan Sanders was frying chicken in his home state. It’s quite a story and tradition, and if you ever find yourself in Corbin Kentucky, I highly recommend stopping by for an extended visit to the Harlan Sanders Cafe & Museum.

I would have sent y’all a text with words and pics last summer when I visited, but I didn’t know most of you then, and didn’t have your number.

Dr “But You Can Still Enjoy My Photo Now“ Gerlich

Audio Blog

[shosiblog]

Differentiate between direct marketing and branding?

Marketing is an essential part of business growth, but strategies can vary significantly. Two common approaches are direct marketing and branding. While both aim to attract customers, their methods, goals, and outcomes differ substantially.

What is Direct Marketing?

Direct marketing involves targeting specific audiences with personalized messages, aiming for immediate action. Channels include email campaigns, SMS, social media ads, and telemarketing. The focus is on measurable results like sales, leads, or website clicks.

Key Characteristics of Direct Marketing:

Personalized Messaging: Tailored content to suit specific customer segments.

Call-to-Action (CTA): Encourages immediate responses such as "Buy Now" or "Sign Up."

Measurable Results: Metrics like click-through rates (CTR) and conversion rates are used to evaluate success.

Cost Efficiency: Minimal wastage as campaigns are highly targeted.

Example:

A Digital marketing agency in Tamilnadu ran an SMS campaign for a local restaurant, offering a 20% discount for dine-in customers. The campaign generated 300 new visits within a week.

What is Branding?

Branding focuses on creating a lasting identity and emotional connection with the audience. It’s about conveying values, mission, and personality through consistent messaging and visuals.

Key Characteristics of Branding:

Long-Term Strategy: Builds customer loyalty over time rather than achieving immediate results.

Emotional Appeal: Establishes trust and recognition through storytelling and consistent visuals.

Broad Reach: Targets a wider audience to establish brand awareness.

Intangible ROI: Difficult to measure immediately but critical for long-term growth.

Example:

A Digital marketing agency in Tamilnadu helped a startup establish a strong brand presence through engaging social media storytelling, leading to a 50% increase in brand mentions within six months.

Direct Marketing vs. Branding: Key Differences

AspectDirect MarketingBrandingGoalImmediate action (sales, leads)Long-term loyalty and recognitionApproachTargeted and personalizedBroad and emotionalMetricsCTR, ROI, conversionsBrand awareness, reputationTimelineShort-term campaignsContinuous strategyExamplesEmail blasts, Google AdsLogo design, social storytelling

Why Combine Both Strategies?

While direct marketing drives short-term results, branding ensures your business stays relevant and memorable. Together, they create a comprehensive marketing strategy that caters to both immediate needs and long-term goals.

Example of Integration:

A Digital marketing agency in Tamilnadu combined Google Ads for immediate sales with consistent Instagram storytelling to enhance brand loyalty, achieving a 35% revenue growth.

Conclusion

Both direct marketing and branding have their unique advantages. Understanding when and how to use each can significantly enhance your business’s success. For expert guidance in balancing these strategies, partner with a Digital marketing agency in Tamilnadu to maximize your marketing efforts and achieve your goals effectively.

[happystayportel]

BEST GUEST HOUSE NEAR SMS HOSPITAL JAIPUR

Discover top-notch meeting spaces near SMS Hospital Jaipur. Enjoy comfort and convenience for your next event. Reserve your spot now and impress your guests

Finding affordable and comfortable accommodation near SMS Hospital Jaipur is essential for visitors, patients, and their families. Whether you are looking for budget-friendly guest houses near SMS Hospital Jaipur or a long-term stay option, there are numerous accommodations designed to meet your needs. These guest houses offer convenience, comfort, and affordability, ensuring a hassle-free stay in the heart of the city.

Why Choose Guest Houses Near SMS Hospital Jaipur?

If you are traveling to Jaipur for medical purposes, work, or leisure, staying near SMS Hospital and Jaipur Medical College can save you valuable time and effort. The area is well-connected with major landmarks like Jaipur Railway Station, Moti Dungri Temple, and the bustling market areas. Guest houses in this locality provide all modern amenities, including Wi-Fi connectivity, parking facilities, and a peaceful environment.

Top Features of Guest Houses Near SMS Hospital Jaipur

Budget-Friendly Guest Houses Happystay.in

For those traveling on a budget, you can easily find low-cost accommodations near SMS Hospital Jaipur that provide clean rooms, essential facilities, and round-the-clock support. These options ensure affordability without compromising on comfort.

Fully Furnished Guest Houses Guests looking for a homely atmosphere can opt for fully furnished guest houses near SMS Hospital Jaipur. These accommodations come equipped with comfortable beds, modern bathrooms, Wi-Fi, kitchen facilities, and more, making your stay hassle-free.

Short-Term and Long-Term Stays Whether your stay is for a few days or several weeks, the short-term stay guest houses near SMS Hospital offer flexible booking options. For families or visitors requiring longer stays, guest houses for patients near SMS Hospital Jaipur provide a peaceful and caring environment.

Family-Friendly Guest Houses If you are traveling with family, family-friendly guest houses near SMS Hospital Jaipur are ideal. These accommodations offer spacious rooms, clean surroundings, and family-specific amenities to ensure a comfortable stay for everyone.

Parking and Connectivity Most guest houses provide parking facilities to ensure your vehicle is secure. Additionally, being close to SMS Hospital and other landmarks like Jaipur Railway Station enhances accessibility and saves time.

Top-Rated Guest Houses with Amenities Visitors often seek accommodations with added conveniences like Wi-Fi, air conditioning, and well-maintained spaces. The top-rated guest houses near SMS Hospital Jaipur are praised for their hospitality, cleanliness, and modern amenities.

Why Location Matters

Staying at a guest house near SMS Hospital Jaipur not only provides convenience for medical visits but also places you near essential services such as pharmacies, restaurants, and transport options. The nearby areas are lively yet peaceful, providing a stress-free environment for visitors and patients.

Guest Houses Close to Jaipur Railway Station

For visitors arriving via train, guest houses near SMS Hospital that are also close to Jaipur Railway Station are a great choice. These accommodations are ideal for short visits, offering comfort and proximity to both transport hubs and healthcare facilities.

Conclusion

Finding a comfortable and affordable guest house near SMS Hospital Jaipur doesn’t have to be challenging. With a variety of options, including budget-friendly guest houses, family-friendly accommodations, and long-term stay guest houses, you can ensure a smooth and stress-free experience. Whether you are a patient, a family member, or simply a visitor, these accommodations offer a welcoming environment tailored to your needs.

Book your stay at one of the best guest houses near SMS Hospital Jaipur today and enjoy convenience, affordability, and unmatched hospitality

[smscountry]

Real-World Examples of High-Converting SMS Templates for Hotels

The hospitality industry thrives on providing exceptional experiences, and communication plays a pivotal role in ensuring guest satisfaction. SMS templates for hotels have become a go-to solution for streamlining communication and keeping guests informed. But how can you ensure that your SMS messages are not just functional but also high-converting?

In this article, we’ll explore real-world examples of SMS templates designed to engage, inform, and convert. Whether you manage a hotel or restaurant, these templates can be a game-changer for your marketing strategy.

Why SMS Is Essential for Hotels

With open rates exceeding 90%, SMS is one of the most effective communication tools in the hospitality sector. A hotel text messaging system allows hotels to send timely updates, confirmations, and promotions directly to their guests’ phones. This level of immediacy builds trust, fosters engagement, and drives revenue.

For restaurants within hotels, restaurant SMS marketing amplifies the impact by promoting dining experiences and special offers.

High-converting SMS Templates for Hotels

Here are some examples of how SMS can be used to create meaningful guest interactions while driving conversions:

1. Booking Confirmation SMS

Template: "Dear [Guest Name], your booking at [Hotel Name] is confirmed! Check-in: [Date], Check-out: [Date]. For assistance, contact [Contact Number]. We can’t wait to welcome you!"

Why It Works: This template delivers all essential details while expressing excitement, creating a positive impression from the start.

2. Personalized Welcome Message

Template: "Hello [Guest Name], welcome to [Hotel Name]! Your room is ready, and we’ve prepared a special welcome gift for you. Contact the front desk at [Contact Number] for any assistance."

Why It Works: Adding a personalized touch enhances the guest experience and builds loyalty.

3. Pre-Arrival Reminder SMS

Template: "Hi [Guest Name], we’re excited to host you at [Hotel Name] tomorrow! Check-in time: [Time]. Need directions or have special requests? Let us know at [Contact Number]."

Why It Works: This message reassures guests and provides them with an opportunity to share preferences, improving service quality.

4. Promotional Dining SMS

Template: "Dine in style! Enjoy a complimentary dessert with your dinner at [Restaurant Name] during your stay. Reserve your table now: [Link]."

Why It Works: A great example of sample SMS for restaurant promotion, this message encourages guests to explore your dining options while adding value to their stay.

5. Upsell Services SMS

Template: "Enhance your stay at [Hotel Name]! Add a spa session, airport transfer, or late checkout to your booking. Reply YES to learn more."

Why It Works: This upsell strategy targets guests with services they likely value, boosting revenue.

6. Event Promotion SMS

Template: "Join us for a barbeque evening at [Restaurant Name] on [Date]. Reserve your spot today and enjoy a barbeque and fine dining night: [Link]."

Why It Works: This is one of the promotional text message examples for restaurants that create excitement and drive foot traffic.

7. Feedback Request SMS

Template: "Thank you for staying at [Hotel Name]! We’d love to hear about your experience. Share your feedback here: [Link]."

Why It Works: Gathering feedback helps improve services while maintaining a positive relationship with guests.

8. Last-Minute Offer SMS

Template: "Exclusive offer! Book a table at [Restaurant Name] tonight and enjoy 20% off your bill. Limited slots available—reserve now: [Link]."

Why It Works: This SMS template for restaurants drives urgency and attracts spontaneous diners.

9. Check-Out Reminder SMS

Template: "Dear [Guest Name], we hope you had a wonderful stay at [Hotel Name]. Check-out time is [Time]. Let us know if you need assistance or a late checkout."

Why It Works: Polite reminders ensure smooth transitions and leave a positive final impression.

10. Post-Stay Thank You SMS

Template: "Thank you for staying at [Hotel Name]! We hope you had a memorable visit. Check out our latest offers for your next stay: [Link]."

Why It Works: A thank-you message shows appreciation while encouraging repeat bookings.

How to Make Your SMS Templates High-Converting

Keep It Short and Sweet SMS has a character limit, so ensure your message is concise yet impactful.

Personalize Messages Address guests by their names and reference specific details to make the communication feel tailored.

Include a Call-to-Action (CTA) Whether it’s booking a service or providing feedback, a clear CTA drives the desired action.

Timing Is Key Send SMS messages at the right moment to maximize engagement, such as reminders before arrival or promotions during peak dining hours.

Final Thoughts

Leveraging SMS templates for hotels ensures that your communication strategy is both efficient and guest-centric. These templates can enhance guest experiences and boost conversions, from booking confirmations to promotional messages.

For restaurants, integrating restaurant SMS marketing techniques into your strategy can further elevate guest engagement, turning one-time visitors into loyal customers.

Start using these high-converting templates today and transform the way you connect with your guests. Whether you manage a hotel, restaurant, or both, SMS is your ticket to success in the hospitality industry!