I had to pay my school taxes this week.
I practically have a panic attack carrying that amount of money on my person. (Saying “my person” makes me giggle because it’s too close to my penis, and I’m a 14-year-old boy at heart.)
And I always hear my mother’s voice in my head, “Why don’t you just mail them a check, Autumn?”
“Because I’m a 35-year-old lady, mother.” (She hates it when I call her that.)
“I don’t traffic in paper dolls or paper checks anymore. Do you know how much of a liability they are? It’s so easy for someone to steal them from my house. Gawd!”
And don’t even get me started on that 3% service charge to use my debit card at the county office building.
So cash it is.
When I pull up outside of the building, I enter beast remix mode from Southpaw:
Cash wad hidden under my wheelchair’s seat. (As I repeat the lyrics, “I’m a mother-trucking beast.”)
Sleeves pulled up to show off my tats. (Because fall leaves are SO intimidating.)
Eyes glued open to look at my surroundings. (As I repeat the lyrics, “You don’t want problems with me.”)
Just then, a woman walks by with her mixed-breed mutt. It stops, wags its tail, and licks me. And I go from hyped-up gangsta to a puppy kisses pile of mush.
I have zero street cred.
Hype music is my anti-anxiety secret for carrying around large amounts of cash. (Hardcore rap music is a confidence booster.)
What’s my secret to better copywriting? Storytelling.
It’s what you’ll learn during the second month of Drool-Worthy Copy. Apply for this copywriting apprenticeship here.