No. 4: Reflecting on 8 Years of Owning a Social Media Agency
and aging in a young industry
Last weekend marked the 8th birthday of saturday social, the little agency I founded semi-spontaneously with a new friend over coffee. I was freelancing at the time, and she was curious about freelancing. We got together to talk about it, and the conversation quickly grew from bitching about previous jobs to big-picture topics like our ambitions and excitement around a then-emerging industry. We realized that as two social media freelancers in a mid-sized city, we’d inevitably wind up competing with one another for clients. So, we half-joked, what if we joined forces instead?
At the time, agencies that specialized solely in social media were few and far between—not just in Denver, but everywhere. Companies were still off-loading the tasks to their youngest employees, handing the log-in to a board member’s daughter’s friend who liked to take photos. Facebook ads were cheap, Instagram was up-and-coming, and TikTok was little more than a glimmer in ByteDance’s eye. But we saw the potential—both in the platforms’ ability to connect brands directly with consumers, thus leveling the marketing playing field, and in our own ability to build something for ourselves. We’re both creative and scrappy and willing to take risks, and we both have support systems in place that allow us to do so. We’re both the daughters of entrepreneurs. We decided to jump.
There was no playbook to follow; no one to model ourselves after. We built everything from scratch, learning as we went, leaning into our individual interests and strengths: Alicia would obviously be our art director, managing photography and design, and I would head up all things copy and communications. This is still, more or less, how we divvy up responsibilities.
As soon as word got out about saturday ( even before it had a name), we received a flurry of inquiries—from old coworkers and colleagues, from larger agencies looking for a white-label partner, from startups seeking a grassroots marketing team. (Meanwhile, my former boss told me that he was worried I was “burning the candle at both ends” and that I was doomed to fail. Very cool guy.)
Even now, eight years later, I’m stunned and humbled by our initial success; from the caliber of brands that trusted us from the start. I think the strong beginning was due to a combination of things including our individual reputations and connections, lucky timing, and aesthetics. We were a pair of white, pretty, Millennial women who looked like we worked in social media. We looked like we knew what we were doing, even before we did.
Fast-forward eight years, and a lot has happened. We’ve seen the work ebb and flow; survived years that were far too busy, and those where it felt like we were barely scraping by. We’ve been on the front lines—er, in the comments section—as a rapidly changing industry has changed rapidly. We’ve witnessed the rise and fall of new platforms, the evolution of in-app shopping, the death of so many brands—and, perhaps most importantly, the passing of the generational torch. Alicia and I are still white, pretty, Millennial women—and now, from a marketing perspective, that makes us a lot less culturally relevant.
We’re both married now; I’m a mom. She moved back to her hometown, which is not exactly a tech hub. We’re also eight years older (and I’m older than her) in an industry largely dominated and preoccupied by young people.
We’re still chronically online, of course. We’re still creative and scrappy and willing to take risks—but in a more calculated way, guided by years of wisdom and experience. We’re more protective of our personal time and space. We’ve learned the hard way that we have to be—that if we let it, social media will chew us up and spit us out at the speed of the 24-hour news cycle. If we let them, many clients will do the same.
One thing—arguably the thing—that has changed social media since saturday social launched is the universal shift from photography to video content. What made our business model novel and attractive was the fact that we manage all content creation in-house, rather than outsourcing to expensive third parties. Eight years ago, ad agencies weren’t doing that; they weren’t including a set number of original photos for Instagram in their monthly retainers. We were, and I think that’s a contributing factor to our early success. But while we still build our retainers around content creation, that piece has become a lot more expensive, because video takes a lot more time and resources than photography. We’re no longer an “affordable” option, and we’re okay with that—but with increased rates comes increased pressure. I won’t lie and say I don’t feel it, or that it’s not compounded by the fact that I’m now considered old for my industry.
Back in my day, news feeds were chronological (lol) and organic growth was attainable (oof.) You could snap a quick iPhone photo, post it, and receive 70% engagement without paying to boost. Now, Twitter is dead and Instagram may not be far behind and the reigning king, TikTok, feels more like an entertainment platform à la YouTube than community. Yes, the ROI there is far greater than anywhere else—but, mark my words, that’ll change. In the meantime, It’s not the type of social media I initially signed up to manage—and while I knew going into this that the industry would change, I’ll admit that I did not predict such a big shift away from interaction and toward passive viewing. I mean, isn’t that what television is for?!
How much of my perspective is due to the fact that I work in a batshit crazy industry, and how much of it is due to the fact that I’m no longer young—and how much of the two are intertwined, even inescapable parts of my bizarre cosmic journey? This isn’t the first time I’ve found myself aging while those around me stay the same age (cue Matthew McConaughey’s famous line in Dazed and Confused.) As a kid, I was a competitive rhythmic gymnast (nabbed a bronze medal in the Junior Olympics thankyouverymuch) very aware that no one over 20 was doing the sport for a living. And then there was the decade of my twenties spent acting in Hollywood, auditioning for high school roles. I’ve always been someone who comes off younger than I am (a fact that I attribute to a combination of good genes and general immaturity) and I’ve always used that to my advantage. But I’ve reached an age where that finally feels ridiculous—where, if I’m being honest, I just don’t give a shit anymore about how my age might alter someone’s perception of me. I proudly say that I’ve been working in social media since before companies knew what to call it; I correct colleagues when they assume I’m new. I don’t hide my irritation when a stranger asks if I’m sure I don’t want anymore kids (a rant for another day!) and I’ve even stopped getting Botox (for the time being; TBD on whether that sticks.)
Unlike previous occupations, my current is not one that has an official expiration date. I may be aging, but I’m not aging out of anything—and I feel confident in that assertion, because I’ve done the latter. I know what it feels like.
I’m no longer the first face someone chooses to be in front of the camera, but instead of that forcing me into retirement, it simply means that my responsibilities have changed. They’ve grown, like me. I was one of the first social media managers, which means that my level of experience is hard to come by. Like video production over photography, it’s worth a premium. Potential clients either understand and appreciate that, or they leave to find someone greener and cheaper. I’m thankful to have reached a place in my life where I’m fine either way.
I don’t think it’s a coincidence that amidst this external and internal change, I’ve found myself drawn with increasing urgency to writing—the one constant in my life. No matter what else I take on in my professional life, I know I’ll be a creative and scrappy and willing-to-take-risks writer. I can’t age out of that.
While we’re on the topic:
Another pro muses on getting older while working in social, while yet another calls Millennials the boomers of the internet.
I have mixed feelings on the way Coveteur handled being locked out of their Instagram account. (On one hand, I support pulling back the curtain and showing that even the largest accounts struggle with Meta’s nonexistent customer support—but on the other, this series of posts was so whiny and cringe and ugh stfu, you know?!)
Things people say that make me nervous about the future of social media.
Things I want to remember when my son becomes old enough for social media.
My FYP is full of accounts like these selling scammy guides to affiliate marketing (which they wrongly conflate with digital marketing) as get-rich-quick side hustles. Someone needs to do a deep dive into this, and I think that someone might just be me. (Stay tuned!)
My career trajectory summed up in a single tweet (by an account that has since gone dormant, which really says a lot.)
I loved reading about this because it’s a peek into a world I feel very unfamiliar with. The question about wanting more kids—I am so with you. My therapist and I came up with the response, “My family is complete” because I was getting so agitated, rightfully so, by the inquiry.