Confessions of a wannabe social media 'influencer': The time I tried to sell noodles

CNA Lifestyle

Confessions of a wannabe social media 'influencer': The time I tried to sell noodles

Is the "nanoinfluencer" life every bit easy as you think? CNA Lifestyle'south May Seah set out to do a terribly non-scientific experiment and... the results will surprise you. Or at least entertain.

06 Dec 2022 06:25AM (Updated: 03 Jul 2022 05:21PM)

It all started when I was offered, out of the blue, a gig as a "model' for a brand of mala chips.

The purveyors of the spicy snacks said that based on my personal Instagram posts, I embodied the brand's personality, and they invited me to requite them a quote.

Subsequently I was done giggling to myself (why, yep, I am spicy, feisty and... crispy, give thanks you for noticing), I began to wonder: What would it actually exist like to be an "influencer"?

It's kind of a dingy discussion you tin't escape from these days, equally brands have increasingly shifted their marketing strategies – and advertising budgets – to the online and social media space.

Even though brand spokespeople I've chatted with take said that it is near impossible to measure the direct impact an influencer-driven campaign tin have on sales and acquirement, this approach is still seen as an opportunity to enhance make sensation.

Later on all, the whole betoken is to brand it look as if someone you trust is recommending a production to you.

Simply as the posts of influencers with huge followings go increasingly commodified, some brands are turning to microinfluencers or even nanoinfluencers – those with significantly smaller followings simply are seen every bit more than authentic because of it.

"Why don't y'all start your own campaign and see what happens?" said my editor, who was equally bemused past my sudden mala chips-worthiness.

"Encounter if a picture of you in a bikini is more constructive in getting likes, or a picture of you with a dog." He sniggered. "If you lose followers, that would be even funnier."

And so, in the involvement of Inquiry (yes, with a uppercase "R"), I decided to become a pretend nanoinfluencer for a calendar week, and so that I could bring you readers a starting time-hand account of what it might be like to pose / post as a side gig. I mean, obviously, it isn't as easy as it looks, and a significant corporeality of thought, planning and strategy has to go into information technology, right?

Earlier I could start, I needed a product. It had to be something on-trend, frivolous and tempting. Something that people didn't know they needed until I told them they needed it.

I decided that I would hawk "super spicy" instant ramen, because, well, anybody likes instant noodles, and a new season always piques curiosity. (As well, Asians never fear a good band of burn.)

My art manager magicked a production up for me, and I proceeded to ruthlessly badger my Instagram friends.

I knew I needed to start my campaign with a blindside, so I decided to make my commencement mail every bit direct as possible. I shot a couple of photos of myself cosying up to a bowl of spicy noodles – ostensibly the new "HotNuds", actually generic supermarket make noodles – and asked my friends to help option the one in which I looked the most irritating.

I also created a troll site and so that I could see how many people had been "influenced" plenty to click on my "link in bio".

On the get-go day, I got 35 clicks. And a bunch of texts from friends who were upwards in arms nigh being deceived. Yay!

"Wah lau, all I wanted was noodles," complained my friend Samantha. "I clicked 'cos I similar instant mee," my friend Jonathan huffed.

Equally an "influencer", this taught me a valuable lesson: That if you have a good product, information technology will e'er detect its target audience.

For my 2d post, I wanted to level up. Because ASMR videos are all the rage, I decided to attempt an amateur spicy-noodle-slurping ASMR post. You know, to leverage my product's unique selling betoken.

It didn't practice as well as the first postal service, which got 110 likes – largely considering that was the first post and therefore fresh news, I suspect – but it did get a good 63 likes, and earned a "Wah, damn shiok" annotate from online personality Jade Seah.

The existent victory came in a private group chat, when one friend asked, "What brand of noodles are you actually eating?" and another responded, "She makes you want to try them, right? They look awesome."

"Influencing" people who already knew they were being trolled? Well done, HotNuds!

For my next post, I decided to see if the ever-popular, typical-influencer flatlay shot would work for me. I even added in some delightfully mainstream fairy lights.

Alas, the flatlay mail got a dismal 42 likes. Meh. To be fair, I realised belatedly, instant noodles aren't the best models for flatlays, largely due to the fact that they are non croissants and spectacles of orange juice. The lesson hither – there's always a lesson – was that you can't rep an amazing product if you don't know its best angles.

Past now, I was beginning to experience as if I never wanted to see another instant noodle ever again – at least, for the next 3 days – and because I had eaten way also much noodles at this point to be seen in a bikini, I went with the cute-dog-post strategy next.

Proving that doggos will forever rule the interwebs, this mail got lxx likes. Note to self: Put a cute dog in every single mail from now on. It'due south virtually foolproof. (My canine collaborator received 50 per cent of the profits from the zero sales that I fabricated. No dogs were harmed for the sake of the 'Gram.)

At this point, 63 people had been enticed into clicking on my "link in bio". I knew I could do better. But it was Mean solar day Five and I had run out of energy and, to be honest, enthusiasm for the project. Fifty-fifty my piece of work-sanctioned frivolity has its limits.

60-iii people clicked. Yes, I'm no Xiaxue. Simply if half of them were to make a hypothetical buy, would that withal make it a nano success? Even if it involved superfluous fairy lights?

If brands continue to ride the nanoinfluencer bandwagon, the logical conclusion is apparent. In the almost time to come, I reckon, we might all be selling products to our friends and families and earning small commissions out of it. After all, we already recommend things to one another by word of rima oris. Isn't information technology a small pace to accept payment for our recommendations, especially if nosotros already believe in them?

Information technology's a slightly scary idea – especially considering that the actually surprising news, if yous inquire me, is that in spite of having become an "influencer" in the least subtle manner possible, I actually did not lose a single follower.

And, in an ironic twist, some other local fries make slid into my DMs to enquire if they could send me some fries.

If that's not a sign that I should up my ambitions to Murphy-Based-Snack Food Administrator, I don't know what is.

Confessions of a wannabe social media 'influencer': The time I tried to sell noodles

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