It is almost impossible that anyone has escaped the whirlwind of fur that is Aleksandr Orlov. Since first appearing on our screens in January 2009, the Russian meerkat has since been given the kind of back story that makes the well-documented life of Prince William look relatively empty. He has a family tree going back generations — each meerkat in turn also having a back story — a fictional, autobiographical film about the company he is the face of — The Journey of Courageousness, The Battle of Fearlessness, and The Streets of Ambitiousness — and, as if that wasn't enough, a comprehensive website about the town in which he resides, Meerkovo (no prizes for spotting the pun). In light of all of this, and the incredible number of Youtube, Facebook and Twitter followers, I was a little short of gobsmacked to see them offering £40k for a 6 month position as the official Ambassador of Meerkovo.
Why? I found myself asking. A brand image that, to many people, is pure genius must surely be sailing along quite nicely without needing to wave a cool forty grand paycheck under some one's nose to boost the already sky-high profile. To give you a humbling statistic, the fictional Aleksandr Orlov has almost three times as many followers as ex-PM Tony Blair. I'm not saying Tony Blair should have a sizeable following, but he did run the country for a decade!
The job is advertised very simply, and one would assume it will be a very high profile brand ambassador position, being a presence at all manner of sporting and cultural events (I can't help but hope the successful candidate might be invited to the royal wedding). But, other than gallivanting around, tweeting a little bit, and living the high life on such a tidy wage for just 6 months work, what will this person bring to the brand? One suspects it is a drive to convert Compare the Meerkat followers into Compare the Market followers — ironically the meerkat's problem generated the same problem for the brand.
In the world of social media there is a colourful history of corporate blunders, the sort of blunders than can set back a brand's image years in a matter of seconds. The beauty of Mr Orlov is that, as a CGI animal with a suspicious Russian dialect, he is largely immune to social blunders — there isn't much chance of catching him with his trousers down at any time soon, so to speak. So, why would a company bring the fallibility of a human ambassador into such a successful campaign? Could this all back-fire in a moment of blissful stupidity? The speculations are endless.
But, is it possible to 'fault-proof' the lucky candidate in some way? The possibility is no doubt there, but removing the humanity from what is perhaps a ploy at enhancing humanity would be rather short-sighted for any business. Perhaps the best solution to this risk then is to hire someone less fallible than your average joe, but surely this isn't possible? The thought of a successful marketing, PR, brand ambassador leaving their job for a 6 month jaunt into the world of CGI mongooses and dodgy, if infectious, catchphrases seems a little unlikely to me. Maybe I'm too negative. If I were to put my positive hat on I might be inclined to say they will hire a graduate with some flare, some drive, and a great deal of acumen (probably more than your average graduate); after all, the deadline and interviews seem to coincide with most other creative industry graduate schemes and it would be a great opportunity for anyone starting out in that vocation. But here the problem lies: gamble on a graduate, or try to poach a professional? Tricky stuff.
The questions remain open, and maybe someone will be kind enough to answer them, but for now I've decided to find out the answers the best way possible: I've filled out my application. Ultimately, I'd be glad to be a CGI meerkat's right-hand man; he can't be more intimidating than some other bosses and, who knows, maybe that invitation to the royal wedding will come pretty soon after my first pay-check. Here's hoping.
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