I'VE ALWAYS WANTED TO BE AN adman, someone like Darrin Stephens in Bewitched: Whip up a killer campaign in the morning, wow the client in an afternoon presentation, and knock back a cold martini by 4:30.
So when I saw a craigslist post looking for people to write pay-per-click ads, I knew I was the man for the job. PPC ads are, of course, the ubiquitous "sponsored links" that appear on the results page of practically every search engine. They're usually three lines long, about 20 words in total. How hard could it be?
My prospective employer, the California-based stock-prediction Web site Predict Wall Street, made clear that it was casting a wide net in its search for talent. Rather than a résumé, I was to submit three or more three-line ads tailored to drive users to its site. "To sweeten this process," the listing promised, "we will give $10 to everyone who puts in the time to submit original ads." The best writers would become part of Predict Wall Street's freelance advertising team.
I could already taste that martini.
First, I had to learn a few tricks of the trade. Search engines impose strict limits on PPC ad length, and Google's are the most restrictive in the business: no more than 25 characters (including spaces) for the first line and no more than 35 characters for the second and third. (A fourth line contains the advertiser's URL.) These restrictions mean many PPC ads have a haiku-like quality. I rolled up my sleeves and got to work:
Hmm, a little too haiku, that one. I closed my eyes and sat quietly until the words raced down my arms and flew out my fingers:
Not bad. Strong tease up top, implicit promise of insider information. Now, for an ad aimed at the losers:
That should attract some click action. And finally, something to give the site some much-needed street cred in the investing 'hood:
I emailed my ads along with a jaunty note to "roll these down the alley and see how many pins fall." An hour later, I received a reply from Mark Kaplan of Predict Wall Street. "Wow! These are great!!" Kaplan wrote, adding he was "almost sure" they'd be calling on me to write more ads. Plus, I'd soon be receiving that $10 he promised. (Hey, it's all about the Hamiltons.)
At last, a dream realized! I pulled out the gin and vermouth, poured a drink, and reflected on my good fortune. True, I was only $10 up, with no guarantee of paying work and little chance of making a living wage as a pay-per-click adman. But I was in the game.
The second martini tasted even sweeter.
– Tom McNichol
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It's All About the Hamiltons
