“Hmm. Sex sells, so it might not be a terrible idea,” Cody replied thoughtfully. “But you won’t make money from a podcast without sponsorship. I don’t think that happens overnight and I don’t see how it ties in with your project, anyway.”
“Plus, you’d actually need to have hookups to participate. Unfortunately, I have nothing to offer.” Holden pushed his glasses up his nose again.
“That’s not necessarily a bad thing. We could turn it into the podcast version of The Bachelor or maybe start a YouTube channel and go viral…which of course, leads us to sponsors.” George smacked the edge of the table decisively. “Bam! I’m a genius.”
George was a genius. And of the six of us, he was—how shall we say this…the least geeky. But he was still a bit of an oddball.
Let me put it this way…Cody, Tommy, and I were basic science nerds. Asher was obsessed with all things Star Wars while Holden was a history buff—the extreme kind who dressed up for Renaissance fairs. And George loved all things macabre.
George dyed his short spiky hair a myriad of colors during the year—it was light pink at the moment. But when Halloween season hit, it would be jet black to complement whatever his costume du jour was. He might show up dressed as a mummy one day, a vampire the next. Most people appreciated his brand of quirky confidence. George never had issues finding a date—male or female. The rest of us, other than Cody, who was practically a married man, weren’t quite so lucky.
Tommy perked up. “We could call it The Definitive Guide to Finding a Mate While Pursuing a Career in Aerospace or—”
“How to Boost Your Pocket Rocket,” George intercepted with a loud snort.
We groaned on cue.
I lifted my brows and waited for George to get the prerequisite lewd hand gesture out of the way.
“What if we started a business assisting fellow students and chronicled our experience for our project? That way we’re killing two birds with one stone. We’re making money to offset student loan debt and gathering material for our project. We can each choose whatever format we prefer…podcast, video, whatever. We could call ourselves academic assistants and offer anything from tutoring to running small errands, or helping to write the occasional paper. What do you think?” I smiled broadly, loving the idea now that I’d voiced it aloud.
Holden, Tommy, and Asher gasped in dismay.
“Do you want to get kicked out of school? That’s morally and ethically wrong. It’s cheating,” Asher declared indignantly.
“No, it’s not.” I shushed him and took a cautious look around the coffee shop on the off chance any nearby sports enthusiast reported us. Highly unlikely, but still. The coast was clear. “I’m talking about a professional service. We can come up with a snappy name and document our experiences. And we’d have strict rules.”
“What kind of rules?” Holden asked.
“Rules of conduct and procedure…like a real business. Look, by gathering information over a few months, we’ll surely come up with some good material. And if we treat this as a job, we control the hours we want to work so it doesn’t interfere with our own class schedules. Plus, we’d make money. Really good money. At the end of each job, we add our experience to a master script.”
“But it’s not a joint project,” Asher argued, widening his eyes and holding up a single digit, signaling a brilliant idea on deck. “Unless…we ask the board for permission.”
So much for brilliance.
“Let’s do a trial and see if it works. We need to figure out some basics, like how much we want to charge per hour, what services we’d offer, and how we’ll promote and advertise,” I said, pulling out my iPad. “If we get a system in place before school starts, we could be ready to take clients and fit them seamlessly into our schedule. As far as marketing goes…I was kind of hoping you’d lend your expertise, Cody.”
“Me? I’m an aerospace data analyst. What do I know about marketing?” Cody huffed.
“Are you kidding? You had an internship working for Charlie Rourke at Scratch Records. He’s a social media genius. Surely, you learned a trick or two from him,” I cajoled, typing on my tiny keyboard. “I know you’re busy, but we wouldn’t need much of your time. Just a tip or two on where to advertise and which platforms would net us the best return.”
“Sure, I can do that.” Cody sipped his latte and leaned sideways to peek at my notes, studying me curiously.
He didn’t say a word, but I had a feeling he was compiling a list of probing questions he’d save for later while our friends tossed random suggestions and queries my way. Do we offer our service to students outside our campus? How much should we charge? Where do we meet?