I couldn’t find a suggestion box in the woods, so I’m writing to bounce an idea off your hirsute self.
After watching yet another TV commercial in which you were portrayed as a lumbering lummox with suspect grooming habits, bad breath, and nose-curdling BO, it occurred to me that it’s high time you came in from the wild to set matters straight. In our social media-saturated world, it would be to your benefit to directly address affairs related to your compromised image. Your brand has long been co-opted by people who do not have your best interests at heart. You are being exploited, Big Guy.
You would be well advised to be preemptive, to venture forth into civilization on your terms and with a foresightful business plan in hand. I, a fellow solitary woods-walker, who, like you, could stand a visit to a cosmetologist, feel I am well placed to guide your transition from taxonomically suspect apparition to well-regarded public figure.
First thing we’ll do is address your appearance. The Chewbacca look will likely seem contrived in most circles, maybe even over the top. I’m not talking about a total transformation, of course. More like a tweak. If we don’t tone it down, you’ll come across like someone disposed to throwing a dork 50 yards into a tree, like you did in that one Jack Link’s Jerky commercial. We’ll be inclining more toward what is known in fashion circles as a “lumber-sexual” look—rugged in appearance, but with a soft center. Admittedly, it’s a bit passé, but ripe for a revival with you at the marketing sharp end.
We will need to sign endorsement deals with companies that purvey extra-large red-checkered flannel shirts, wool caps, and waffle-stomper boots—all of which look well-worn but, in actuality, are right off the rack and stunningly pricey.
Then there’s the unavoidable issue of diction. In order to maximize your potential, you’ll need to be more than a pretty face. There’s a place for contextual growls and grunts, but it would help progress our agenda if you could expand your verbal horizons by a couple dozen syllables to include words such as “sustainable,” “inspire,” “organic,” “honestly,” and “return on investment.” Mind you, I’m not talking about reciting Shakespearean monologues in perfect iambic pentameter, but, in order to ride this Bigfoot wave to its inevitable end—to the point where you are making appearances at casinos and malls—you will need to become at least as articulate as the average sponsored athlete. In the meantime, we can cover for your communicative deficiencies by giving you a Twitter account.
Eventually, you will be ready to make public appearances in which you espouse socially acceptable causes. The obvious choice is protection of your native habitat. If we play our cards right, we might even get you designated as an endangered species. What a coup that would be!
My fee is the standard 15 percent of all sponsorships, endorsements, presentations, book contracts, social-media posts, podcasts, product placements, TV and movie appearances, and profits from whatever companies bear your image, likeness, or name. In return, I will help you rise up from your disheveled roots. And I will make all your new followers feel as though they are rising up with you.
What’s your alternative, Bigfoot? Continuing to lurch through misty forests, eating nuts and berries, and lounging in sun-dappled meadows with nary a care in the world save dealing with the occasional unverifiable photograph making its way onto the Internet without suitable compensation?
You’re not getting any younger, Bigfoot. Strike while the iron’s hot—or at least before your old pal Yeti accepts my proposal.