The Emperor’s New Digital Strategy

In a kingdom not so different from our own, there lived an Emperor who had everything—wealth, status, and a palace filled with the finest things. But he was not satisfied. What he wanted more than anything was to be admired, envied, and seen as the most relevant, modern ruler in all the land. His advisors whispered constantly about what other leaders were doing—viral posts, glittering campaigns, followers by the thousands. The Emperor grew restless.

“I must have the finest digital strategy in the world,” he declared one morning. “Something that will make me shine brighter than all the rest.”

One day, a pair of master “digital strategists” arrived at the palace. They were known for creating strategies so sophisticated that only the most discerning minds could understand them. Ordinary people, they claimed, would see nothing at all. The Emperor clapped his hands in delight and summoned them at once.

The two strategists entered the throne room with deep bows and flowing words.

“Your Majesty,” said the first, “we shall spin you a strategy of followers and impressions so vast, it will make you appear more admired than any ruler before you. Never mind whether they are loyal or true—numbers alone will dazzle your people.”

The Emperor nodded eagerly. “Yes, yes. That sounds magnificent.”

The second strategist stepped forward, unfurling an empty scroll. “And here,” he continued, “is the lining of your new strategy: simple actions dressed up as master plans. Post daily! Buy this software! Boost these ads! Each is a single stitch, but together they will look like a grand design.”

“Brilliant!” cried the Emperor. “Such elegance in simplicity.”

The first strategist gestured broadly, as if pulling something dazzling out of thin air. “And of course, no garment of strategy is complete without the embroidery of SEO. Keywords, algorithms, metadata! With these, you shall rise to the top of the kingdom’s searches, admired and untouchable.”

The Emperor squinted, seeing nothing but hearing so many grand words. “I confess,” he said quietly, “I cannot see it.”

The strategists leaned in close. “Ah, but only the truly wise and sophisticated can perceive the beauty of this strategy. Surely, Your Majesty, you do not doubt your own brilliance?”

The Emperor straightened at once. “Of course not! I see it now. Wonderful, wonderful!”

And so the strategists went to work, day after day, spinning invisible threads of jargon: engagement funnels, KPI dashboards, algorithm hacks. For their efforts, they demanded enormous sums of gold. The Emperor paid gladly, convinced that anything so costly must be powerful. Advisors nodded gravely, though none understood. They feared that admitting confusion would mark them as ignorant. And so the strategists grew richer, weaving illusions from nothing at all.

At last, the Emperor’s advisors gathered for a private preview. The strategists presented shimmering dashboards glowing with rising numbers. They gestured at upward-pointing arrows, graphs in brilliant colors, and charts filled with acronyms.

“Magnificent,” whispered one advisor, though he couldn’t tell what the numbers meant.

“Transformative,” said another, though she secretly worried nothing had truly changed.

The Emperor paraded before them, draped in invisible credibility and imaginary influence. “Do I not look extraordinary?” he asked.

“Majestic!” they chorused, fearful of seeming foolish.

Soon word spread across the kingdom that the Emperor would unveil his dazzling new digital strategy in the town square. Merchants closed their shops, children climbed atop barrels, and villagers gathered in eager anticipation. If the Emperor had invested in this, it must be extraordinary.

The trumpets blared. The crowd hushed. Out strode the Emperor, head held high, arms outstretched in pride. But instead of being robed in brilliance, he wore nothing at all. His reputation had no fabric of trust, no stitching of authenticity, no threads of credibility. He had numbers, but no loyalty. Dashboards, but no meaning. Jargon, but no story.

Still, the crowd clapped nervously. “Look at those impressions!” one villager said, trying to sound impressed.

“Yes, such keywords!” added another. “So modern, so refined.”

The Emperor smiled broadly, believing he looked magnificent. He waved, beaming at the sea of polite applause.

Then, from near the front of the crowd, came a small voice. A young boy, no older than six, tugged at his father’s sleeve and said loudly enough for all to hear:

“But he’s not wearing anything!”

Gasps rippled through the crowd. Heads turned. The illusion began to unravel. Followers who had never been customers drifted away. Search results revealed emptiness, not authority. The glowing dashboards suddenly looked hollow and meaningless.

The murmurs grew louder, spreading like fire through the marketplace. “Where are the loyal voices?” one villager asked. “Where are the true stories? Where is the proof?” Another muttered, “He wanted to be admired, but he has only made himself a fool.”

The Emperor looked around and saw the doubt in the eyes of his people. For the first time, he felt the sting of shame. All his wealth, all his status, had not saved him from believing in illusions. Slowly, he lowered his head. He could no longer pretend.

The strategists, seeing the truth exposed, slipped quietly from the square with their bags of gold. Their work was done. And the Emperor, left standing alone, understood too late that what he had bought was never real.

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Now, you and I both know we’re not living in a fairy tale, but the truth of this story shows up every day in local business.

The Emperor’s mistake was not in wanting to be admired—it was in mistaking illusions for substance. He believed the false promise that numbers alone create trust, that tactics alone create strategy, that jargon could substitute for credibility. But real influence, as he discovered too late, cannot be faked.

Here’s what that means for us, as business owners trying to build something lasting:

• Followers only matter if they reflect a real community.

• Tactics only matter when they align with a greater purpose. (A tactic is one action; a strategy is the larger vision connecting every action together. The two are not the same.)

• SEO only works when it’s built on substance, expertise, and value.

• And no “expert” deserves trust without proof: testimonials, stories, and consistent presence.

I think about this story often when I’m talking with business owners here in the North Country. We all want our work to shine. We want people to notice, to talk about what we’re building, to admire our effort. That’s a natural desire. But our neighbors are smart, and our communities are close-knit. People here can tell the difference between polish and substance, between a flashy promise and a business that’s shown up, steadily, with integrity.

So if you’ve been wondering what kind of digital “clothes” to put on, here’s my advice: don’t settle for invisible suits. Don’t let anyone convince you that quick numbers or jargon-heavy reports will build trust. Instead, keep showing up honestly. Share your story in your own words. Do the small things that align with who you really are. Let your actions, over time, become the garment people see.

And remember this: you don’t ever need to move forward with something you don’t understand. If an expert can’t explain their approach in plain language, if you can’t see real signs of credibility, authenticity, experience, and expertise, then they haven’t earned your trust.

In the end, it isn’t illusions that people in this place believe—it’s the truth they can see with their own eyes.

And here in the North Country, that kind of honesty is still the finest thing anyone can wear.

-Amanda