I knew I had a problem when I reached 10,000.

I’m not sure how it happened, I just sort of accumulated them over time, thinking I’d need them someday, for some reason. Sure, I got rid of a few here and there, but never with any real regularity. Many of them — well over 1,000 – I ignored altogether, but kept them nonetheless, just in case I ever found time to give them the attention they deserved. And then, in one fell swoop, I got rid of them all.

So how does one amass an in-box with 10,000 e-mails in it? It’s pretty easy actually. My collection dated back to October 2008 and, at an average of just over 50 new emails a day, my journey to 10K happened relatively effortlessly. 

There were emails from employees long since departed and emails from reporters asking for a quote or some information for a story (those were all opened and responded to, I assure you). Strangely, there were over 100 emails from myself and more Google Alerts than I could count. There were 268 e-mails from the Public Relations Society of America (185 of them unread) and a few dozen from Ticketmaster (one of which alerting me to the fact that Led Zepplin was playing at the Trocadero in Philly, ironically, on the day I found it. Wish I had read that one when I first got it back in March.)

I sorted them by sender and began deleting large groups of emails I didn’t need. But after about two minutes, I realized I was fighting a losing battle and there was only one way to win it: Delete everything. I’d heard of people doing that before, but I always thought it was an urban legend cooked up by an overworked and underpaid IT guy who was fed up with people hogging space on the company server. 

I selected every email, unselected about 20 from the last few days which I “absolutely needed” and moved my mouse cursor to the delete “X” on my Microsoft Outlook toolbar. I hesistated for a full five seconds before deciding to scan my collection once again to make sure I wasn’t deleting anything really important. Three minutes later, my cursor was again hovering on the “X” and this time, with one quick click, I did what I had to do.

It took about 10 minutes for the actual cleansing to occur. I sat and watched the little window displaying its work in progress. I began to wonder if I did the right thing and became nervous and slightly nauseous. I decided to walk away and let my Dell finish what I started. When I came back, it was done. No more spam, no more Mirriam-Webster Words of the Day, no more Undeliverable notices from the System Administrator. I’m clean now. Going on two-and-a-half days. Now I have to figure out what to do with the 14,553 e-mails in my Deleted Items folder.

A recent barnyard flu has caused pretty much every American with access to a television to retreat to the relative cleanliness of their own homes (if only they knew) and caused some particularly worrisome germophobes to walk about in public looking like Michael Jackson on an antiquing trip.

Restaurants, too, are taking a closer look at sanitation, which is where our recent work for client, Sani Professional, comes in. Sani Professional (formerly Nice-Pak) is one of the largest manufacturers of sanitizing hand wipes for consumer and commercial use, and they wanted the Pavone team to drum up a little excitement for their new restaurant table cleaning wipes at this weekend’s National Restaurant Association (NRA) show in Chicago. To help drum up that excitement, the thinkbank team cooked up a guerrilla marketing campaign sure to turn some heads and create some buzz for Sani Professional and its new product.

Enter “Germs Unite.” Germs Unite is a group of five disgruntled germs (played by actors and members of the Pavone team) who made it their mission to let everyone at the NRA show know how angry they are that Sani Professional has made a living by killing their bacterial brethren. The group is comprised of Eli Coli, Lizz Teria, Ryan O. Virus, Ann Fluenza and Sally Monella (bios for each here).

Donning anatomically correct germ costumes — if the germs were five billion times larger than their normal selves — the fearsome fivesome descended upon the show with protest signs, chants and handouts urging passersby to boycott the Sani Professional booth and not to use the company’s murderous products. They demonstrated at the Sani Professional booth, crashed a Sani Professional press conference, did some impromptu media interviews and posed for hundreds of photos with enamored show attendees.

As we sort of expected, the germs also got “removed” from the premises by some very real security guards who were none-too-happy that the group had assembled outside Chicago’s McCormick Place convention center. So as to not get tased, the germs retreated inside. (Wisely, over the course of the next two days, Germs Unite would befriend several of the security guards, thus giving them more freedom in the pursuit of their mission.)

At the close of the second and final day of mayhem, the campaign was deemed a success, but the germ’s cause will live on through the power of social media. From their cyberspace hub at GermsUnite.com, fans and enemies can access the germ’s Facebook pages, LinkedIn profiles, YouTube videos, Flickr account and follow their NRA exploits via a Germs Unite Twitter feed. We also set up a Twitter feed for Sani Professional to offer both sides of the story and allow a bit of trash talking between the two factions.

Below is a glimpse of the germs in action. Feel free to check out more videos from the NRA show here, and cross your fingers that this isn’t the last time we see the germs taking their infectious brand of marketing to the streets.

Earlier this week, the thinkbank lost another member of its team when Barb Swartzlander, a member of our accounting staff, passed away after complications following open heart surgery. You’re never quite ready for something like this, even when you’ve gone through it as recently as we have.

Barb was a part of Pavone for five years and, like Jeremy before her, was easily one of the most loved members of thinkbank team. She was the type of employee any company would be proud to have because she truly loved being here (which she told me on a regular basis). As our controller, Al, pointed out the other day, when it comes to our cores values – respect, innovation and passion – Barb embodied the first and last with a capital R and P.

Barb traveled over an hour to work every morning and an hour back home, but judging by the passion she had for working at Pavone, she probably would have driven three hours both ways if she had to. She truly loved working here and loved the people she worked with, and would happily tell anyone who would listen about this “great place” and the fun, exciting things we were doing. I never tired of hearing her speak, in her Pennsylvania Dutch accent, so glowingly of being here on a daily basis.

Above is a picture of Barb’s desk a day after she passed. Her Pavone pride – as indicated by the record amount of sweetspot magnets – was eclipsed only by her pride in her son, Bryon, her grandson, Blaize, Penn State and the Pittsburgh Steelers. (It’s probably helpful that both Pavone and the Steelers share an affinity for black and gold.)

Yes, no one was happier to be here than Barb was, and we’re truly going to miss having our biggest cheerleader around to remind us to feel the same way.

Sincerely,
MP

pepul think i too laze too notiss what happpens arund here but i do. i watch when peeple think i sleeps. i heer what pepple saay when they think i not attenshun paying. i smartered then they think eeven if i cant spell all teh time. i no dum dogg. i just act taht way to stay undr the radarr. so y i say all this? becuz dog damit i deserv a little mor respekt around herre.

(note too paw murree – you misssing peetza frum frgerator last week? that wzz me. i not sorree)