A very special offer came into the inbox of our parent company the day after the Redskins' franchise quarterback RGIII was benched, and in the week after a thirty-five point loss to the Kansas City Chiefs at home.
I hope this email finds you well.
It does. Most of us did not watch the Redskins play football this past weekend, so we're already doing great.
The Redskins Suite Owners Network is looking to bring on companies that are ambitious about growth. Clearly, Vox Media, with your recent purchases of Eater and Curbed, would fit right in.
This is correct: we are interested in growth. This is why we bought fine websites with our money, and not a lease on a giant expensive concrete box overlooking 120 yards of pure sorrow in the barrens of suburban Maryland.
Think about how much easier, and effective, it would be to reach decision makers in the D.C. market if you entertained them at a Redskins game.
"Yes, future investor and/or client. Please drive through zombie-apocalypse traffic, pay 40 dollars for parking, and then sit with us as we survey the ruins of a once-proud franchise. It's said the closest bonds are forged by mutual exposure to horror, and the survival of that horror. Ooh, look, Rex Grossman's coming in! Let's hold each other, cry, and see if the tears turn to money. There is stale popcorn and scotch in the back if it gets too much for you to bear."
You’d enjoy personal face time and extend the depth of that relationship to a new level.
When neither party wants to see what is on the field, face time does take on a whole other meaning. Just four quarters of loving, longing staring into the client's eyes, and oh -- you want me to tell you that you have the luminous, inspiring eyes of a Kirk Cousins? I will tell you anything you want to hear, client. We must pay for this luxury box, and now need your money more than ever, especially because Mr. Snyder is doubling the price next year to pay for Tom Brady's contract. Do you enjoy seeing handsome, elderly men broken in half? You will. Um, something something business something.
Put simply, leveraging an affiliation with the Washington Redskins helps grow your company’s profile, cultivate relationships, and get business done.
"Leveraging an affiliation" is not putting anything simply. It's management/finance speak at its most inhuman. What you want to say is this: "By showing you can afford a Redskins suite, you display wealth and the confidence that others would think being at FedEx Field was a good decision, and that you were a person to make good decisions with in business." And what part of watching the Redskins over the past decade was a good idea, and displayed good judgment? This is a serious question asked in the face of a proposition that is flat barking insanity.
If you heard that a company had invested money in a Redskins suite after the 2013 season, would you take that as a.) a sound financial investment or b.) the work of account-bilking scam artists just seconds away from bailing on the stock options and dumping the whole mess on scattering shareholders? Would you rather burn hundreds in an oil drum waiting for the Nats season to start? We would, and baseball doesn't start for another four months. (At least burning money in an oil drum makes you warm, unlike the cold terror of watching Mike Shanahan dare his owner to fire him publicly.)
Towards that end, I would like to begin a dialogue about what type of an association works best for you and your organization. In addition to learning more about your specific objectives, I would be glad to share with you a variety of examples from current Redskins partners to assist you in choosing an optimal solution.
Our problem would be watching the Redskins play football. This is our optimal solution to the problem: not buying a suite, and thus avoiding the problem altogether. Thank you for this invigorating and completely unsolicited conversation, Redskins sales person. It's been a great dialogue after all. As for us, we'll be investing in the only luxury sports seats that matter: the front row at the Potomac Nationals, baby. P-NATS FOREVER.