Greg Dyson Content Manager
Greg Dyson

Greg Dyson

Greg Dyson is the Content Manager at Digital Agency. Born and raised in New England, Greg migrated to Pennsylvania in 2015 after missing the exit for New York City on I-95. It wasn’t until he hit the Bristol, PA exit that he realized the terrible mistake he had made, and said, “I’ve made a terrible mistake.”

Thus, he set forth to turn around. He took the Bristol exit and drove around for about 15 minutes looking for a safe place to make the turn, when he happened upon the parking lot. Why he drove five miles off 95 before choosing a turning point remains a mystery to this day, but is neither here nor there. Nevertheless, 1SEO’s parking lot seemed as good a spot as any to pull a u-ey.

Alas, just as he was gearing up to turn around, none other than Lance, Jolin and CJ were standing right in front of him, and seemed to be flagging him down.

“Yankee boy! Cometh forward!” shouted CJ.
“Who, me?” replied Greg.
“Of course you!” shouted Lance and Jolin, in unison. “There isn’t another Yankee boy for 200 miles!”
“True, True,” retorted Greg. “What want you, dwellers of Bristol?” he said.
“You look like you’re lost, as if you’ve missed the exit for New York City!” sung the three strangers, in harmony. “You have the appearance of a content Manager,” continued the group, in iambic pentameter.
“Thank you, but I don’t know what a content manager is,” Greg said, confusedly. “I cannot make out if you are praising or insulting me. You are speaking in song, and it’s throwing me off. Would you please switch to prose?”

So switch to prose they did. “Sorry, Yankee boy! We thought Yankee boys only spoke in sung pentameter!” spoke the group, plainly, much to Greg’s relief.

Lance, Cj and Jolin proceeded to explain the content manager role at 1SEO, and gave their reasoning as to why Greg would be an excellent fit for the open position. Greg agreed.

But suddenly, the scene turned oddly quiet. Then, a mysterious expression consumed Lance’s face. He looked up slowly at Greg and said, with the utmost seriousness, “So you want to be our content manager, eh there, Yankee boy?”

Greg’s face became stoic. “Well there’s one task you must complete before we give you the job. First, you must swim across the nearby Delaware River toward the banks of Paradise, also known as Southern New Jersey. Once you hit the shores, you must denounce the second yearling squirrel you see perched on the branches of the closest elm tree. Taunt it continually until it proclaims, ‘Yankee Boy, your taunting I can take no more! Take this golden acorn as a token of your victory!’ Then, bring the golden acorn back to me,” explained Lance.

Greg agreed, and much to the group’s amazement, completed the task effortlessly. He returned the golden acorn in no time, and handed it to Lance, now, with all the townspeople of Bristol Borough watching.

“Yankee boy! I cannot believe what layeth in my hand! Do my eyes deceive me?” said Lance.
“Does the sun set westward not? Does nightfall not cometh when the sunneth set? Your eyes deceive you not! Sung CJ and Jolin. “The Yankee boy has brungeth the true golden acorn!”

“Well, then” said Lance, pausing to inspect his prize, with all the town watching quietly. Suddenly he looked up swiftly and shouted, “The job is yours!” and the townspeople exploded into a roar as loud as a thousand thunderstorms. And then they had a grand parade, and they all ate pie.

That’s the story of how Greg became the content manager.

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