Nicholas Bandy

“We dumped another $10K in the trash.” Gus was heated. So heated, in fact, that his webcam started to fog up on our Zoom call. “How many months have we f—ed up the same s—t!? I told you NOT to target Boise!” He took a dramatic sip of water like he was trying to rinse

“It would be a miracle if we got any deals from marketing this year.” That’s what my client Steve told me, half-laughing, half-praying. And honestly?He had every reason to be cynical. Steve runs an outsourcing firm. A couple years back, his business was booming—purely off referrals. Clients were thrilled. Word spread. Life was good. He

“Nobody wants your spam emails!!” Wailed the 71-year-old commenter on one of my recent YouTube videos about reviving dead email lists. “Yes, they do!” …I’d argue. Successfully. Because I wasn’t talking about cold emails—the ones undoubtedly stuffing Abe Simpson’s inbox with promises of credit repair and lost Aztec gold buried beneath his shrubbery. I was

Late last night, my wife Nhu and I hurried through the dim grocery store parking lot on our undying quest for eggs. Eerie quiet, except for the wail of a police siren in the distance. “I hope there’s not a killer on the loose tonight,” I whispered in my wife’s ear as we shuffled through

A frequent reader told me this recently: “Your emails look kinda like spam. You know, no pictures. Plain formatting. Shouldn’t you have a business logo or something?” He was immediately banned from my email list, blocked from rejoining, and naturally, his passport was revoked. (Or was he?) Of course not, but I thought his comment

What ever happened to that Google lawsuit? You know the one. The one where everyone realized… “Oh yeah…Google owns the air you breathe, and you can’t whisper a single cheeky word of ‘pillow talk’ without Alphabet serving you lingerie ads the next morning while you’re standing in line at Starbucks.” That one. Apparently, it’s still

I stood in our bedroom, putting away my keys and wallet after a quick grocery trip when… “Who is this chick you’re ‘connecting’ with on your laptop!?” Nhu’s shout sliced through my noise-canceling headphones like a hot wife through butter. “What!?” I yelled back, knocking over a chair and punting a pink bottle of baby

The closet EXPLODED open, spewing a rainbow of neck pillows across the bedroom floor. Knocked me to the ground. Rose like a tide to window-level. I opened my mouth to scream… But no words escaped. My world faded to black, crushed by at least five or ten pounds of memory foam. And my final thoughts

Earlier today, I subjected myself to humiliation and torment for your sake. “It’ll be a blast,” they said. “It’s a party for LinkedIn posts,” they said. Yes… I joined a LinkedIn Pod. No, it has nothing to do with dolphins. It’s not even a cult, though I did feel like I was drinking the Kool-Aid.