The incessant cacophonous thundering of keys under manicured fingers, barely visible through an opaque fug of cigarette smoke and scotch whiskey fumes which drip invisibly from the ceiling panels like condensation from the roof of a cave hidden behind a waterfall. This is how business is done. In the 60s. In Mad Men. In the modern business element of Jellybean there is a different sight.
Upon my first arrival I am greeted by a delicious home-made loaf of cinnamon and raisin cake, an assortment of tasteful bean-related puns and a warm atmosphere built by a friendly and welcoming staff. Certainly a far sight from the raucous post war office drama, which gives off such a different atmosphere that my comparison between the two makes as much sense as a lemonade giraffe.
I decided to compare these two to demonstrate that I, like everyone else around me, am shaped by my interactions with all forms of popular media. It has become impossible for me not to compare my every day, pedestrian life to the lives of those I see on screen, in papers or on walls.
Every blonde child on the train is actually a tyrannical megalomaniac ruling a fictitious, dragon-ridden fantasy realm under an iron fist. Every man with a twirly moustache is a dangerously bubbling volcano of opera, constantly on the brink of singing car insurance deals directly at my face.
What I’m trying to say is that, from a consumer’s perspective, marketing and media such as that produced by Jellybean are very important parts of my life, and this realisation is what led me to seek out, and ultimately find my place here. While I have yet to fully experience the range of Jellybean departments, a busy morning of introductions, food photography and much needed social media training has left me hungry for more and even though I’ve barely started I already feel like part of a quality team of professional beans.
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