Saturday, January 21, 2012

Big Jag = Big Want

The ability to expect the unexpected is one every successful PR professional must hone well in order to succeed. Imagine this: you're the head of PR for the company that makes the Ove-Glove. Everything is smooth sailing. Ove-Gloves are flying off the shelves, and mommy-bloggers are furiously typing rave reviews with Ove-Gloved hands. But then, disaster strikes: one of those mommy-bloggers burned her ham casserole because it took too long to properly don her Ove-Glove, and is now blaming you for the disappointment her family experienced at their casserole being slightly overdone. Most PR practitioners would be cowering in a corner, rocking back and forth and singing lullabies to themselves. Not you. You're a professional, and you've got a crisis management plan that kicks some serious posterior. Sample products. Communication. S.W.O.T. analyses. You've got the sitch under control, and you've got Stephen Murdoch at your door begging for advice, all because you were well prepared.

Now imagine this: you're kicking back in your corner office in downtown Toronto, facilitating communications, promoting synergy, and telling your attractive female secretary to mix you up another scotch on the rocks. The door to your office opens, but in place of your secretary walk in two menacing-looking men with shades and a Men-in-Black vibe. Before you can even open your mouth you feel a sharp pang in your arm. Elephant tranquilizer. Unexpected.

You wake up sitting in a park bench, at night, alone save for one of the two men who abducted you, who is sitting opposite you on a trash can. You’re dressed in a suave black tuxedo with all manner of wires and gizmos attached to you. Still groggy, you ask for an explanation. Your captor, or Agent Alpha as he goes by, explains that Prince Harry, who is attending a nearby party for rich people, is being stalked by a possible assassin, and needs a PR professional to diffuse the situation. You must infiltrate the party and use your super-PR-writing skills to write a persuasive press release convincing the assassin to surrender.

No sweat. You got a 98 in Mrs. Geddie’s grammar class and you’re ready to go in there and PR that assassin’s ass. There’s only one problem: your 95 Toyota Tercel. At some other, less prestigious event, you might get away with it, but at the Royal & Riches Ribfest, you’re going to need a seriously suave car to pass off to the valet.

So what do you show up in? This:

2001 Jaguar XJ8 Vanden Plas. Oh Yeah. For only $4,995 you can show Prince Harry who really has class in this leather-laced, luxury-lined land-barge. Mileage? Don't worry about it. Reliability? When you have a sumptuous leather interior like this, who cares?

The best part about this car is that even if (okay, I really should say 'when') the car breaks down and the repair costs are higher than your student loans, you can just park it in your driveway and let people think you have money. Baller.

When your PR career takes an unexpected turn into the exciting world of spy-thrillers, you have to be prepared. That's why I suggest all of you invest your non-existent money into an old, high-mileage Jaguar whos chances of starting could best be likened to a game of Russian Roulette. 

In all seriousness, I would kill for a car like this to cruise around in. I don't want to think about how many headaches the inevitable electrical gremlins of a used British luxury car will cause me. I don't care how much of my money will go towards feeding the thirsty V8. I want to feel like James Bond everywhere I go, and for five grand, I could be tempted to suppress every inhibition to possess such a beast as this.

See the full ad here: 2001 Jaguar XJ8 Vanden Plas

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