by John Passmore
I'll be glad when things get back to normal. This roller-coaster of fortune is exhausting!
Today we were back to the grim reality. As a brand-new trainer, I had been keen to say "yes" when head office phoned to ask me to do a last minute business training in London today.
Tamsin, bless her, said "Go for it" and reorganised all the child-care I had been booked for - and off I went to London, allowing three-and-a-half hours for a two-hour journey so as to be absolutely sure of getting there on time.
The way I planned it, when I arrived an hour early, I could give out 50 cards and talk to my six.
But that was before I saw the sign about delays on the M25 and decided to take the North Circular. It's years since I've been on this excuse for a road and it ate into the time like a crocodile with a bag of buns.
In the end I arrived 15 minutes early, looking cool and collected but having handed out nothing at all.
Never mind, there was always the journey home.
Too bad the M25 was even worse in the afternoon. By the time I got home, my todal stood at something like 15 cards. And here's the interesting thing: Before writing this blog, I would probably have left it at that. But I was so embarrassed that the shame of not handing out my quota ovecame the embarrassement of giving cards to the parents at Owen's opera rehearsal.
Even so I didn't give them to everyone (which one day I would like to do) but I did give one to the other father who exchanged a few words as we stood waiting for the last scene to finish: "Look let me give you one of these. I give out 50 a day and I'm hoplessly behind. Have a look when you get him. It's all about money."
"Oh, thanks very much," he said.
And once I'd done that, it was easy to say to the friend who had been keeping an eye on Lottie: "Thanks so much for looking after her. By the way, can I give you one of these. I'm behind on my quota."
And she said "Thanks very much too".
Why wouldn't she?
Friday, 13 November 2009
Thursday, 12 November 2009
Just desserts
And in the dream the boss of the vehicle repair shop joined as a distributor...
Well that's what would happen isn't it? What a great story that would be...
So I went to see him and it turned out he had been to a networking breakfast sometime in the past and had heard about the company. I was half way through showing him how the money worked when I realised he was going to sign up. Some days everything just falls into place.
All kinds of strange things were happening. I turned out that that my witness for the hit and run was his old school friend and also he knew the local rep for the insurance company so he could start work on the repair straight away.
On the strength of all this I decided to try a radical tactic. I rang up an accountant I'd met once and said I needed a favour. Why he should do me a favour is not something I went into. Instead I just said: "The company has asked me to find ten people who don't know much about the club and show them our new presentation. Then I need to ask them what they think. Could I try it out on you?"
And he said yes. So I have an appointment for next week.
All of which was fine - except I still had a stack of cards to give out. So I decided to do some uneccessry shopping: Beer and bottled water - that sort of thing. In the middle of it a woman came up to me waving the card I'd given her: "What's this all about?" she wanted to know.
So I told her and she said she'd just moved house and needed exactly what I had to offer. So all I have to do now is phone and tell her husband.
One way and another the day went rather well.
... which is no more than I deserved, I reckon..
Well that's what would happen isn't it? What a great story that would be...
So I went to see him and it turned out he had been to a networking breakfast sometime in the past and had heard about the company. I was half way through showing him how the money worked when I realised he was going to sign up. Some days everything just falls into place.
All kinds of strange things were happening. I turned out that that my witness for the hit and run was his old school friend and also he knew the local rep for the insurance company so he could start work on the repair straight away.
On the strength of all this I decided to try a radical tactic. I rang up an accountant I'd met once and said I needed a favour. Why he should do me a favour is not something I went into. Instead I just said: "The company has asked me to find ten people who don't know much about the club and show them our new presentation. Then I need to ask them what they think. Could I try it out on you?"
And he said yes. So I have an appointment for next week.
All of which was fine - except I still had a stack of cards to give out. So I decided to do some uneccessry shopping: Beer and bottled water - that sort of thing. In the middle of it a woman came up to me waving the card I'd given her: "What's this all about?" she wanted to know.
So I told her and she said she'd just moved house and needed exactly what I had to offer. So all I have to do now is phone and tell her husband.
One way and another the day went rather well.
... which is no more than I deserved, I reckon..
Wednesday, 11 November 2009
Daft Question
by John Passmore
"How far away was the other vehicle when it hit you?"
This was the question Ipswich police rang me to ask. I must say I stumbled over the answer: The other vehicle had hit mine. How far away could it possibly be?
It was a different policewoman this time and we had to go over much of the story again. But it had to be done and so we got quite chatty. She comiserated. She asked me how long was my car going to be off the road.
Nobody could say for sure.
The worst part was that I wouldn't be getting the benefit of all the advertising plastered all over it.
Yes, that would be a problem. Then she said: "What does it advertise?"
And within a couple of minutes she was saying things like: "That sounds amazing!" and "I bet you do a lot of business in a recession..."
And now she's looking at the website.
By coincidence the next call was from the boss of the vehicle repair company wanting to know where they could get some new stickers. So I gave him the number for Exec Services and then said: "Do you know what it's all about? Have I told you about my part-time business?"
And when I said: "So which is more interesting for you, the idea of saving money... or making money?" he didn't have to think about it for long: "Both," he said.
And so now I'm going to see him tomorrow.
All the trauma was beginning to seem not so bad after all.
It was at this point that I received one of those hoax virus alerts people seem to fall for all the time. You know the sort of thing: "Forward this to everyone you know. If you receive an email with the subject such-and-such DO NOT OPEN IT. It will destroy your hard disk, scramble your microchips, bring about the end of the world etc...
Usually I feed a relevant phrase into Google, establish that it's a hoax and send the evidence to the person who sent me the original - along with advice that they might like to do the same next time. People are usually rather sheepish but grateful.
However, this time I thought: "Why stop at one email? Why not send it to "Repy All" - after all I'm offering valuable advice. It might stop someone else making a fool of themselves.
(The fact that all my emails have links to my website and a French and Saunders video is neither here not there...)
So what with that and 50 cards and half a dozen DVD in fairly unremarkable circumstances, the business is back on the road - even if the Mini isn't.
"How far away was the other vehicle when it hit you?"
This was the question Ipswich police rang me to ask. I must say I stumbled over the answer: The other vehicle had hit mine. How far away could it possibly be?
It was a different policewoman this time and we had to go over much of the story again. But it had to be done and so we got quite chatty. She comiserated. She asked me how long was my car going to be off the road.
Nobody could say for sure.
The worst part was that I wouldn't be getting the benefit of all the advertising plastered all over it.
Yes, that would be a problem. Then she said: "What does it advertise?"
And within a couple of minutes she was saying things like: "That sounds amazing!" and "I bet you do a lot of business in a recession..."
And now she's looking at the website.
By coincidence the next call was from the boss of the vehicle repair company wanting to know where they could get some new stickers. So I gave him the number for Exec Services and then said: "Do you know what it's all about? Have I told you about my part-time business?"
And when I said: "So which is more interesting for you, the idea of saving money... or making money?" he didn't have to think about it for long: "Both," he said.
And so now I'm going to see him tomorrow.
All the trauma was beginning to seem not so bad after all.
It was at this point that I received one of those hoax virus alerts people seem to fall for all the time. You know the sort of thing: "Forward this to everyone you know. If you receive an email with the subject such-and-such DO NOT OPEN IT. It will destroy your hard disk, scramble your microchips, bring about the end of the world etc...
Usually I feed a relevant phrase into Google, establish that it's a hoax and send the evidence to the person who sent me the original - along with advice that they might like to do the same next time. People are usually rather sheepish but grateful.
However, this time I thought: "Why stop at one email? Why not send it to "Repy All" - after all I'm offering valuable advice. It might stop someone else making a fool of themselves.
(The fact that all my emails have links to my website and a French and Saunders video is neither here not there...)
So what with that and 50 cards and half a dozen DVD in fairly unremarkable circumstances, the business is back on the road - even if the Mini isn't.
Tuesday, 10 November 2009
Some Days Are Not Worth The Cornflakes
by John Passmore
How was your day?
Oh mine was OK. I spent an hour and a half in the dentist's chair and then a drunk hit-and-run driver ran into my Mini.
Yes, this actually happened.
Not a good day, then - you might think. But let's play the optimist for a bit and see what I did rescue out of it.
There I was, jaw like a watermelon, stationery on my side of the road, waiting to overtake a parked car when the oncoming BMW suddenly swerved into me. It takes a moment or two to realise this has happened. Then another few seconds to realise the other car has not stopped - and then heaven knows how long to wrench the mangled door open and get out.
By this time the BMW was half way up the road - far too far to see the number plate. In my best quarterdeck bellow, I called to a passer-by: "Get the number of that car!"
The guy just kept talking into his phone. I pounded up the street, my swollen head threatening to wobble off my shoulders.
By this time the BMW was stopped at the top of the road, prevented from escaping by the car in front which was waiting for traffic. I caught up with the man on the phone. It turned out he was dictating the BMWs number to his boss who he'd been talking to when he saw it happen.
By now the BMW had got away but I had my witness. In fact I had two because someone else turned up as well and confirmed the number. I dialled 999 (the first time I've ever done so - isn't this exciting!)
Anyway, having carefully written down the witnesses details, I needed to give them mine - and the easiest way to do that ws to take two cards out of the little business card box stuck to the side of the Mini.
"Save Money - Make Money" one of them said. "What's that all about then?"
So I told them.
Then I had to go to the police station and the WPC who took my statement asked me my occupation and so I had to tell her. But since we were getting on so well and there are so many police officers in this business, I thought I'd give it some wellie.
"Well that's a bit difficult to explain. Basically I sort out the country."
"You sort out the country?"
"Yes, me and Gordon Brown. But what I do is I sort theh country into three groups: People who want to save money, people who want to make money and people who want everything to stay the same. Which group would you like to be in?"
"Oo, I'd like to make money."
So she's got a DVD and instructions to count the number of police officers past and present she sees on it. As a taster I told her about Nigel Reilly-Cooper saying that as a serving police officer, it wasn't easy for him to find an appropriate part-time business. Then there was Jimmy Chapman who was invalided out of the force but fortunately had this little part-time business to fall back on (which has now bought him the house with the tennis court).
And that's not the end of it, of course. By the time I'd finished reporting the claim to the insurance company, I was able to say to the helpful young woman on the end of the phone: "May I compliment you on your telephone manner... actually I'm always on the lookout for people who are good on the telephone. Did you know you could earn an excellent part-time income using the skills you have already?"
And what with cards and DVDs to the driver of the recovery vehicle, the people waiting in the police station queue and the staff at the accident repair centre it ended up as quite a good day after all...
How was your day?
Oh mine was OK. I spent an hour and a half in the dentist's chair and then a drunk hit-and-run driver ran into my Mini.
Yes, this actually happened.
Not a good day, then - you might think. But let's play the optimist for a bit and see what I did rescue out of it.
There I was, jaw like a watermelon, stationery on my side of the road, waiting to overtake a parked car when the oncoming BMW suddenly swerved into me. It takes a moment or two to realise this has happened. Then another few seconds to realise the other car has not stopped - and then heaven knows how long to wrench the mangled door open and get out.
By this time the BMW was half way up the road - far too far to see the number plate. In my best quarterdeck bellow, I called to a passer-by: "Get the number of that car!"
The guy just kept talking into his phone. I pounded up the street, my swollen head threatening to wobble off my shoulders.
By this time the BMW was stopped at the top of the road, prevented from escaping by the car in front which was waiting for traffic. I caught up with the man on the phone. It turned out he was dictating the BMWs number to his boss who he'd been talking to when he saw it happen.
By now the BMW had got away but I had my witness. In fact I had two because someone else turned up as well and confirmed the number. I dialled 999 (the first time I've ever done so - isn't this exciting!)
Anyway, having carefully written down the witnesses details, I needed to give them mine - and the easiest way to do that ws to take two cards out of the little business card box stuck to the side of the Mini.
"Save Money - Make Money" one of them said. "What's that all about then?"
So I told them.
Then I had to go to the police station and the WPC who took my statement asked me my occupation and so I had to tell her. But since we were getting on so well and there are so many police officers in this business, I thought I'd give it some wellie.
"Well that's a bit difficult to explain. Basically I sort out the country."
"You sort out the country?"
"Yes, me and Gordon Brown. But what I do is I sort theh country into three groups: People who want to save money, people who want to make money and people who want everything to stay the same. Which group would you like to be in?"
"Oo, I'd like to make money."
So she's got a DVD and instructions to count the number of police officers past and present she sees on it. As a taster I told her about Nigel Reilly-Cooper saying that as a serving police officer, it wasn't easy for him to find an appropriate part-time business. Then there was Jimmy Chapman who was invalided out of the force but fortunately had this little part-time business to fall back on (which has now bought him the house with the tennis court).
And that's not the end of it, of course. By the time I'd finished reporting the claim to the insurance company, I was able to say to the helpful young woman on the end of the phone: "May I compliment you on your telephone manner... actually I'm always on the lookout for people who are good on the telephone. Did you know you could earn an excellent part-time income using the skills you have already?"
And what with cards and DVDs to the driver of the recovery vehicle, the people waiting in the police station queue and the staff at the accident repair centre it ended up as quite a good day after all...
Monday, 9 November 2009
The pump begins to gush!
by John Passmore
All I knew was his name and the fact that he had downloaded an information pack.
Every day he appeared on my list of people to call - yet still I had no idea who he was. The only contact we'd had was two brief phone calls in which he said he was too busy and could I call again.
Well, today, when I called while walking the dog, he finally decided he had time to talk.
He sounds ideal: A quantity surveyor by profession, he now runs several companies and employs other quantity surveyors. His only problem is that none of this activity provides quite enough money for his daughter's school fees.
He very nearly agreed to sign up after the first two boxes of the Martini presentation. However he just wanted to look at the information pack properly (the fact that people have downloaded it doesn't meen they've got the information).
But what is most exiciting is that just before saying goodbye, I asked him where we'd met.
"In Tesco's," he said. "I was just putting my PIN into the machine at the checkout and you gave me a card."
It turns out we hadn't exchanged a word - I suppose I hadn't wanted to distract him.
Isn't it wonderful when this happens? It proves that everything everyone tells us about giving out information is true - even though we may keep on doing it without any apparent results. As long as we get the information out there, something must happen eventually. It's like working away at an old fashioned village pump.
So I was feeling pretty good. But guess what? Five minutes later, just as I got home, the phone rang and I found myself talking to a man who said I'd handed him a card as he was coming out of the accountant's office in town.
"As a matter of fact, I've had it for about six weeks," he said. "I've been using it as a bookmark."
"Did I say anything when I gave you the card?" I asked him.
"I don't think so. I think you just said: 'Have one fo these'."
The fact that the rest of the day turned out to be a bit of a rush and I managed only 25 cards and two DVDs doesn't seem to matter. Can you imagine how many I'm going to be giving out today? And because I'm going to the dentist at 10.30, I probably won't be able to say anything at all!
All I knew was his name and the fact that he had downloaded an information pack.
Every day he appeared on my list of people to call - yet still I had no idea who he was. The only contact we'd had was two brief phone calls in which he said he was too busy and could I call again.
Well, today, when I called while walking the dog, he finally decided he had time to talk.
He sounds ideal: A quantity surveyor by profession, he now runs several companies and employs other quantity surveyors. His only problem is that none of this activity provides quite enough money for his daughter's school fees.
He very nearly agreed to sign up after the first two boxes of the Martini presentation. However he just wanted to look at the information pack properly (the fact that people have downloaded it doesn't meen they've got the information).
But what is most exiciting is that just before saying goodbye, I asked him where we'd met.
"In Tesco's," he said. "I was just putting my PIN into the machine at the checkout and you gave me a card."
It turns out we hadn't exchanged a word - I suppose I hadn't wanted to distract him.
Isn't it wonderful when this happens? It proves that everything everyone tells us about giving out information is true - even though we may keep on doing it without any apparent results. As long as we get the information out there, something must happen eventually. It's like working away at an old fashioned village pump.
So I was feeling pretty good. But guess what? Five minutes later, just as I got home, the phone rang and I found myself talking to a man who said I'd handed him a card as he was coming out of the accountant's office in town.
"As a matter of fact, I've had it for about six weeks," he said. "I've been using it as a bookmark."
"Did I say anything when I gave you the card?" I asked him.
"I don't think so. I think you just said: 'Have one fo these'."
The fact that the rest of the day turned out to be a bit of a rush and I managed only 25 cards and two DVDs doesn't seem to matter. Can you imagine how many I'm going to be giving out today? And because I'm going to the dentist at 10.30, I probably won't be able to say anything at all!
Friday, 6 November 2009
Plan B
Everything fitted into Plan A.
OK so there was only an hour between the Networking Seminar and the customer appointment but suddenly I thought: "Oh look, there's the guy who's designing me a website. I must just have a word..."
And there was two hours between the customer and my clarinet lesson and I planned to pop in to a business customer on the way....
And I've been so lax on the public duty front that I really couldn't refuse to spend an hour beside the road with the community speed camera....
And the car needed a new headlight bulb...
So there I was at four O'clock having given out no DVDs and only half a dozen cards but then my friend the computer expert said he wouldn't be able to get to me much before five O'clock.
Aha! I jumped in the car and headed for people.
The first I saw were a group of mothers picking up their children from a nursery.
"Hi, I'm glad I've found you. I'm always on the lookout for people with children who'd like to earn an extra income alongside the one they've got already. Would that be you?"
"Might be," said two of them.
So I told them what it was about and they both considered for a minute and then came out with this: "All our friends have husbands who earn a lot of money so we wouldn't be interested."
The guy in the motor accessories shop had already seen the DVD (I was glad to see he'd been given it by a member of my team) but next door was the insurance office. Now I've been in here before but that was a long time ago. So why not try again?
This time there was a really cheerful and animated young woman and within a couple of minutes she could see that what I had would be absolutely perfect for her. Now why couldn't we have met when there had been bags of time. Never mind, she's got the DVD and we'll talk again on Monday.
And next door, the owner of the Indian restaurant was just letting himself in for his busy Friday night: "Hi, I'm John Passmore and you are...? Great to meet you. I'm a local business owner and I wonder if you could do me a favour..."
As I told him what all this was about, it was as if a light came on. He weighed the DVD in his hand and looked at it and said seriously: "Yes, I'm sure that's something I would be very interested in."
And then it was time to go and oversee the battle of the microchips (which, I can tell you is not yet won...)
So there are still four DVD's in my planner - and a stack of cards in my pocket.
But maybe some days numbers aren't everything. I'll let you know on Monday.
OK so there was only an hour between the Networking Seminar and the customer appointment but suddenly I thought: "Oh look, there's the guy who's designing me a website. I must just have a word..."
And there was two hours between the customer and my clarinet lesson and I planned to pop in to a business customer on the way....
And I've been so lax on the public duty front that I really couldn't refuse to spend an hour beside the road with the community speed camera....
And the car needed a new headlight bulb...
So there I was at four O'clock having given out no DVDs and only half a dozen cards but then my friend the computer expert said he wouldn't be able to get to me much before five O'clock.
Aha! I jumped in the car and headed for people.
The first I saw were a group of mothers picking up their children from a nursery.
"Hi, I'm glad I've found you. I'm always on the lookout for people with children who'd like to earn an extra income alongside the one they've got already. Would that be you?"
"Might be," said two of them.
So I told them what it was about and they both considered for a minute and then came out with this: "All our friends have husbands who earn a lot of money so we wouldn't be interested."
The guy in the motor accessories shop had already seen the DVD (I was glad to see he'd been given it by a member of my team) but next door was the insurance office. Now I've been in here before but that was a long time ago. So why not try again?
This time there was a really cheerful and animated young woman and within a couple of minutes she could see that what I had would be absolutely perfect for her. Now why couldn't we have met when there had been bags of time. Never mind, she's got the DVD and we'll talk again on Monday.
And next door, the owner of the Indian restaurant was just letting himself in for his busy Friday night: "Hi, I'm John Passmore and you are...? Great to meet you. I'm a local business owner and I wonder if you could do me a favour..."
As I told him what all this was about, it was as if a light came on. He weighed the DVD in his hand and looked at it and said seriously: "Yes, I'm sure that's something I would be very interested in."
And then it was time to go and oversee the battle of the microchips (which, I can tell you is not yet won...)
So there are still four DVD's in my planner - and a stack of cards in my pocket.
But maybe some days numbers aren't everything. I'll let you know on Monday.
Thursday, 5 November 2009
The Trouble with Successful People
by John Passmore
Don't you just hate really successful people? They're so damn modest!
Ask them why they're so successful and they just say: "I stick to what they teach you on training... I just follow the system..."
Chris is like that. He just follows the system yet 87% of his people get their money back. Why is that. In the end I was so frustrated I asked my upline.
The good thing about asking a question is that very often you get an answer: "Ah Chris, well he's very choosy about who he recruits. He goes for business owners."
So I put that together with something I'd heard a long time ago about Chris's upline Jimmy.
And this morning, still wearing my suit from my business breakfast club, I set off to the local business park.
Drive out of any small town, take a wrong turning and you end up in one of these: Rows of miniature offices housing one-man-band businesses.
"Hi, my name's John... and you are? Great. Nice to meet you. I'm a local business owner and I wondered if you could do me a favour."
(They all said yes.)
"I've had this DVD done and I wondered if you could take a look at it for me and give me your opinion. After all you've been around for a while, I'd really appreciate some feedback."
(And they all took it and looked at it and said OK)
"It's only about 15 minutes. Would you be able to take a look now if I come back in quarter of an hour?"
Actually I never did go back in quarter of an hour because the fifth door led me to the smallest private gym you've ever seen and instructor was not the business owner but an employee. Anyway he didn't have a computer to play a DVD so I gave him a card and said: "It's all about money. Are you interested in money?" and he said "yes" and so I had to tell him.
And then, since there was no-one who wanted to work on their abs, I showed him how the money worked and by the time his girlfriend had arrived and we'd worked out that there was a way they could buy their own home, the time had flown by and I had to get off to my appointment.
Once that customer had signed up and we'd talked about his days as a flight engineer on Lancasters (44 operations and he lived to tell the tale) his grandaughter turned up and so she needed to hear what I had.
I got home to find the dog frantic but her walk got delayed again by an old customer ringing up and wanting the service at her new restaurant. She only lives over the road so I popped out to do that one.
And even when I did get the dog down to the river, we never go far: I'd given out about ten cards to the other walkers (have you had one of these... I always give one of these to people by the river - have you had one yet...) when a smiling couple looked at my badge (I'd forgotten I was wearing it) and I had to stop and talk to them.
Then the next person asked what the little card was all about and so instead of walking, I ended up sitting in the bandstand for ten minutes talking about the money.
The dog didn't mind. She had a new friend and together they cleared up all the crisps from under the benches.
Don't you just hate really successful people? They're so damn modest!
Ask them why they're so successful and they just say: "I stick to what they teach you on training... I just follow the system..."
Chris is like that. He just follows the system yet 87% of his people get their money back. Why is that. In the end I was so frustrated I asked my upline.
The good thing about asking a question is that very often you get an answer: "Ah Chris, well he's very choosy about who he recruits. He goes for business owners."
So I put that together with something I'd heard a long time ago about Chris's upline Jimmy.
And this morning, still wearing my suit from my business breakfast club, I set off to the local business park.
Drive out of any small town, take a wrong turning and you end up in one of these: Rows of miniature offices housing one-man-band businesses.
"Hi, my name's John... and you are? Great. Nice to meet you. I'm a local business owner and I wondered if you could do me a favour."
(They all said yes.)
"I've had this DVD done and I wondered if you could take a look at it for me and give me your opinion. After all you've been around for a while, I'd really appreciate some feedback."
(And they all took it and looked at it and said OK)
"It's only about 15 minutes. Would you be able to take a look now if I come back in quarter of an hour?"
Actually I never did go back in quarter of an hour because the fifth door led me to the smallest private gym you've ever seen and instructor was not the business owner but an employee. Anyway he didn't have a computer to play a DVD so I gave him a card and said: "It's all about money. Are you interested in money?" and he said "yes" and so I had to tell him.
And then, since there was no-one who wanted to work on their abs, I showed him how the money worked and by the time his girlfriend had arrived and we'd worked out that there was a way they could buy their own home, the time had flown by and I had to get off to my appointment.
Once that customer had signed up and we'd talked about his days as a flight engineer on Lancasters (44 operations and he lived to tell the tale) his grandaughter turned up and so she needed to hear what I had.
I got home to find the dog frantic but her walk got delayed again by an old customer ringing up and wanting the service at her new restaurant. She only lives over the road so I popped out to do that one.
And even when I did get the dog down to the river, we never go far: I'd given out about ten cards to the other walkers (have you had one of these... I always give one of these to people by the river - have you had one yet...) when a smiling couple looked at my badge (I'd forgotten I was wearing it) and I had to stop and talk to them.
Then the next person asked what the little card was all about and so instead of walking, I ended up sitting in the bandstand for ten minutes talking about the money.
The dog didn't mind. She had a new friend and together they cleared up all the crisps from under the benches.
War of the Microchips
by John Passmore
Suddenly the microchips bit back.
You know the feeling: You have your day all planned - just a couple of little chores to do in the office and then out into the world for fun and profit.
Oh yeah? Dream on, kiddo!
I spent almost the whole day talking to helplines and playing with my SQL Server. As an added bonus, I was allowed to reboot - again and again... As the hours crawled by, the prospect of giving out my 50 cards seemed more and more remote - as for talking to six new people...
But then it occurred to me that the man on the helpline was gradually become more a part of life than my wife and children.
"You've been very helpful," I told him. Then, because I can't say anything else after that little collecio of words: "I'm always on the lookout for helpful people - they can make some good money in their spare time. Would you like to hear about it?"
And now he's looking. The next was a caller from a Bed and Breakfast website. I listened patiently, complimented her on her mann and asked: "Would you be interested in a second income alongside the one you've got already?"
I was on a roll now. After that I had someone someone trying to raise my ranking in Google - and after that someone offering me space on a website calleld Roundabout Britain. Had this stirring of the microchips alerted the cyberworld to my presence? Who cares: I was halfway to my target of talking to six new people and I hadn't even been out onto the street yet.
In fact, what with one thing and another, I never did get out onto the streets - which meant that at three O'clock, I still had 50 cards to give out: You can't stuff those down a phone. So just before the children came home, I set off for Tesco's to buy myself a new optical mouse and a car charger for the phone.
It took me half an hour to shift the cards. I'd have done some DVDs too if I hadn't forgotten them in the rush.
Still, I came away with the phone numbers for two people and on the way I called the watch battery salesman from last week. He was walking the streets of Belfast, he told me. Never mind, he wanted to know how the money works and so I told him.
Suddenly the microchips bit back.
You know the feeling: You have your day all planned - just a couple of little chores to do in the office and then out into the world for fun and profit.
Oh yeah? Dream on, kiddo!
I spent almost the whole day talking to helplines and playing with my SQL Server. As an added bonus, I was allowed to reboot - again and again... As the hours crawled by, the prospect of giving out my 50 cards seemed more and more remote - as for talking to six new people...
But then it occurred to me that the man on the helpline was gradually become more a part of life than my wife and children.
"You've been very helpful," I told him. Then, because I can't say anything else after that little collecio of words: "I'm always on the lookout for helpful people - they can make some good money in their spare time. Would you like to hear about it?"
And now he's looking. The next was a caller from a Bed and Breakfast website. I listened patiently, complimented her on her mann and asked: "Would you be interested in a second income alongside the one you've got already?"
I was on a roll now. After that I had someone someone trying to raise my ranking in Google - and after that someone offering me space on a website calleld Roundabout Britain. Had this stirring of the microchips alerted the cyberworld to my presence? Who cares: I was halfway to my target of talking to six new people and I hadn't even been out onto the street yet.
In fact, what with one thing and another, I never did get out onto the streets - which meant that at three O'clock, I still had 50 cards to give out: You can't stuff those down a phone. So just before the children came home, I set off for Tesco's to buy myself a new optical mouse and a car charger for the phone.
It took me half an hour to shift the cards. I'd have done some DVDs too if I hadn't forgotten them in the rush.
Still, I came away with the phone numbers for two people and on the way I called the watch battery salesman from last week. He was walking the streets of Belfast, he told me. Never mind, he wanted to know how the money works and so I told him.
Tuesday, 3 November 2009
Rain Clouds and Wrong Numbers
by John Passmore
- 50 cards
- 6 DVDs
- Talk to six people
- Send five texts
... I also planned to walk to the dog.
And what happened? It rained. In fact in Suffolk it rained pretty much all day - the real stair-rods stuff. Don't blame me, if I'd taken the dog I'd have had to drag her all the way round and people would have stared at that awful man taking that poor doggie out in the rain.
And when it's raining, getting through the To Do list is a matter of determination.
Of course it started off easy enough: I filled up the car and the man who pulled up on the other side of the pump was in a plumber's van: "Hi," I said brightly. "I'm always on the lookout for plumbers - plumbers, electricians... business owners who'd like to make an extra income alongside the one they've got already. Would that be you?"
"Might be," he said. "Tell me about it while I fill up."
So I did and he ended up with a DVD and I ended up with his card.
Next stop was Oxfam with a load of junk - I beg your pardon - a selection of high quality merchandise we no longer require. The thing about this is that you go in with your arms full and you come out empty handed - which means everyone on the way back to the car park gets a card: "Hi, have you had one of these?"
I made three trips, and each time I passed through the covered walkway outside Boots, I shifted another ten cards - and three people said: "What is it?"
So I told them. Two were interested in saving money so they would get a text when I got home in case they lost their cards and one was already a customer, thought the club was great but really didn't want to know about making money. Nor did he want to recommend any of his friends to me. But he did volunteer to give them my card - so he got another ten.
And then I remembered the cleaning and so the woman behind the counter heard all about it and said she'd tell her husband (I wonder if she will?)
And by the time I'd been to the bank for a load of pound coins to replenish the school dinner money pot we keep in the kitchen, I had only five minutes to go in the car park and only one card left.
That makes me choosey. In fact I was nearly there when I saw him: A tall man in a suit and looking purposeful - the sort who is much too important to take a card from someone in the street.
So I said: "Excuse me. Are you in business? Only you look successful and I'm looking for successful people who'd be prepared to look at a second income stream. Would that be you?"
And just maybe I struck gold. It turned out he was in the commercial property business. He bought it, sold it, sourced it for clients. Yes, he knew a lot of business people. We spent my remaining five minutes talking about what my part-time business had done for me and what it could do for him.
By the time I got back to the car (before the ticket ran out) I had done everything on my Business Development Plan except for the five minute task of sending the texts when I got home.
But that's only the basic stuff. There was also my appointment at 3.30 - a referral from one of my oldest customers. I was in and out in 20 minutes and yes, he joined. When I asked him to reccommend six of his friends he thought he might manage a couple. But then he had a brainwave and went and fetched the membership list of the Woodbridge and District Lions Club and carefully marked six names for me to ring.
"I'll be seeing them tonight," he said. "I'll tell them you'll be in touch."
And finally there were some calls to make to the people who'd had yesterdays DVDs and one of them turned out to be a wrong number.
"Oh dear," I said when the voice on the other end said he had never heard of Daniel Pearson. "He asked me to ring and tell him how to make some extra money. I don't know what I'm going to do. I suppose I could tell you instead. Would you be interested in extra money."
And guess what. He's looking at the website, he's got an email sitting in his inbox and at least I know I've got the right number when I ring him today to ask what he liked best!"
- 50 cards
- 6 DVDs
- Talk to six people
- Send five texts
... I also planned to walk to the dog.
And what happened? It rained. In fact in Suffolk it rained pretty much all day - the real stair-rods stuff. Don't blame me, if I'd taken the dog I'd have had to drag her all the way round and people would have stared at that awful man taking that poor doggie out in the rain.
And when it's raining, getting through the To Do list is a matter of determination.
Of course it started off easy enough: I filled up the car and the man who pulled up on the other side of the pump was in a plumber's van: "Hi," I said brightly. "I'm always on the lookout for plumbers - plumbers, electricians... business owners who'd like to make an extra income alongside the one they've got already. Would that be you?"
"Might be," he said. "Tell me about it while I fill up."
So I did and he ended up with a DVD and I ended up with his card.
Next stop was Oxfam with a load of junk - I beg your pardon - a selection of high quality merchandise we no longer require. The thing about this is that you go in with your arms full and you come out empty handed - which means everyone on the way back to the car park gets a card: "Hi, have you had one of these?"
I made three trips, and each time I passed through the covered walkway outside Boots, I shifted another ten cards - and three people said: "What is it?"
So I told them. Two were interested in saving money so they would get a text when I got home in case they lost their cards and one was already a customer, thought the club was great but really didn't want to know about making money. Nor did he want to recommend any of his friends to me. But he did volunteer to give them my card - so he got another ten.
And then I remembered the cleaning and so the woman behind the counter heard all about it and said she'd tell her husband (I wonder if she will?)
And by the time I'd been to the bank for a load of pound coins to replenish the school dinner money pot we keep in the kitchen, I had only five minutes to go in the car park and only one card left.
That makes me choosey. In fact I was nearly there when I saw him: A tall man in a suit and looking purposeful - the sort who is much too important to take a card from someone in the street.
So I said: "Excuse me. Are you in business? Only you look successful and I'm looking for successful people who'd be prepared to look at a second income stream. Would that be you?"
And just maybe I struck gold. It turned out he was in the commercial property business. He bought it, sold it, sourced it for clients. Yes, he knew a lot of business people. We spent my remaining five minutes talking about what my part-time business had done for me and what it could do for him.
By the time I got back to the car (before the ticket ran out) I had done everything on my Business Development Plan except for the five minute task of sending the texts when I got home.
But that's only the basic stuff. There was also my appointment at 3.30 - a referral from one of my oldest customers. I was in and out in 20 minutes and yes, he joined. When I asked him to reccommend six of his friends he thought he might manage a couple. But then he had a brainwave and went and fetched the membership list of the Woodbridge and District Lions Club and carefully marked six names for me to ring.
"I'll be seeing them tonight," he said. "I'll tell them you'll be in touch."
And finally there were some calls to make to the people who'd had yesterdays DVDs and one of them turned out to be a wrong number.
"Oh dear," I said when the voice on the other end said he had never heard of Daniel Pearson. "He asked me to ring and tell him how to make some extra money. I don't know what I'm going to do. I suppose I could tell you instead. Would you be interested in extra money."
And guess what. He's looking at the website, he's got an email sitting in his inbox and at least I know I've got the right number when I ring him today to ask what he liked best!"
Monday, 2 November 2009
The Summons
by John Passmore
Dr Mason was a distinguished rheumatologist. He lectured. People asked his opinion. He was much in demand. That was why he took up sailing.
In those days - and I'm going back to my 1950's childhood here - if you went sailing you were uncontactable. There were no mobile phones. Indeed in those days there were not even any transmitters on yachts. So no matter what crises were developing at the London Clinic, Dr Mason sat on his boat in the Essex backwaters, smoking his Senior Service, drinking his whisky (the combination did for him in the end) and remained oblivious to it all.
I thought of him last week when I was sailing around the Greek Islands and noticed a little red light winking at me from the chart table. Chart tables these days are a blaze of little red lights alerting the skipper to a myriad of emergencies. But this one was on the Blackberry and telling me an email had arrived.
And once you know that, curiosity gets the better of you and the next thing you're back at work.
So that was why I agreed to go to Sutton Coldfield on Monday morning, not six hours after arriving home.
But that doesn't mean the part-time business has to be on hold. We still have to complete our daily activity, don't we?
Actually I hadn't even had time to do my Business Development Plan for the week. It was literally a case of grab a handful of piggy cards and half a dozen DVDs and go.
So I arrived in what I understand is the posh suburb of Birmingham with half an hour to kill before my meeting. First it seemed a good idea to fill up with petrol. There was a salesman standing at the counter. You could tell he was a salesman because he had one of those huge pilot's cases and stood aside with a resigned expression while the proprietor served me.
Afterwards I turned to him: "Excuse me but are you in business?"
He was.
"Look I don't want to delay you but I'm always on the lookout for business people who are prepared to look at an extra income stream. Are you interested in extra money?"
He was - and so he got a DVD.
I cruised up one side of the street and down the other, handing out cards: "Have you had one of these?"
"No, what is it?"
"It's about money. Are you interested in money?"
If they were, I said my little piece and offered to send them an email. "Would you like that?"
Four people said "OK".
"Right then, what's your name? And do you have a mobile phone number? And your email address? And if I gave you one of these would you watch it tonight? OK I'll call you tomorrow..."
I was down to my last one and my last ten minutes when I came to a nail bar. Now a nail bar happened to be just what I needed. If we've shaken hands lately, you'll remember my right thumbnail is in a terrible state - all black and crumbling from its altercation with a kitchen door. For £3 the proprietor of the nail bar would fix me a new acrylic one and have me back on the street in five minutes.
As it happened I spent nearly all that time on the phone to one of the team in Norwich but finally I was able to make conversation with the man on the other end of the thumb. How was business?
Terrible, apparently. Nice nails are a luxury item. He didn't know how much longer he could keep going. So he got a DVD too. He had no idea when he would watch it - he was so busy trying to keep the business together...
But I left it with him anyway. The way he was talking, I could hear from him anytime over the next year or two.
I hope I don't. He did a brilliant job on my thumb.
Dr Mason was a distinguished rheumatologist. He lectured. People asked his opinion. He was much in demand. That was why he took up sailing.
In those days - and I'm going back to my 1950's childhood here - if you went sailing you were uncontactable. There were no mobile phones. Indeed in those days there were not even any transmitters on yachts. So no matter what crises were developing at the London Clinic, Dr Mason sat on his boat in the Essex backwaters, smoking his Senior Service, drinking his whisky (the combination did for him in the end) and remained oblivious to it all.
I thought of him last week when I was sailing around the Greek Islands and noticed a little red light winking at me from the chart table. Chart tables these days are a blaze of little red lights alerting the skipper to a myriad of emergencies. But this one was on the Blackberry and telling me an email had arrived.
And once you know that, curiosity gets the better of you and the next thing you're back at work.
So that was why I agreed to go to Sutton Coldfield on Monday morning, not six hours after arriving home.
But that doesn't mean the part-time business has to be on hold. We still have to complete our daily activity, don't we?
Actually I hadn't even had time to do my Business Development Plan for the week. It was literally a case of grab a handful of piggy cards and half a dozen DVDs and go.
So I arrived in what I understand is the posh suburb of Birmingham with half an hour to kill before my meeting. First it seemed a good idea to fill up with petrol. There was a salesman standing at the counter. You could tell he was a salesman because he had one of those huge pilot's cases and stood aside with a resigned expression while the proprietor served me.
Afterwards I turned to him: "Excuse me but are you in business?"
He was.
"Look I don't want to delay you but I'm always on the lookout for business people who are prepared to look at an extra income stream. Are you interested in extra money?"
He was - and so he got a DVD.
I cruised up one side of the street and down the other, handing out cards: "Have you had one of these?"
"No, what is it?"
"It's about money. Are you interested in money?"
If they were, I said my little piece and offered to send them an email. "Would you like that?"
Four people said "OK".
"Right then, what's your name? And do you have a mobile phone number? And your email address? And if I gave you one of these would you watch it tonight? OK I'll call you tomorrow..."
I was down to my last one and my last ten minutes when I came to a nail bar. Now a nail bar happened to be just what I needed. If we've shaken hands lately, you'll remember my right thumbnail is in a terrible state - all black and crumbling from its altercation with a kitchen door. For £3 the proprietor of the nail bar would fix me a new acrylic one and have me back on the street in five minutes.
As it happened I spent nearly all that time on the phone to one of the team in Norwich but finally I was able to make conversation with the man on the other end of the thumb. How was business?
Terrible, apparently. Nice nails are a luxury item. He didn't know how much longer he could keep going. So he got a DVD too. He had no idea when he would watch it - he was so busy trying to keep the business together...
But I left it with him anyway. The way he was talking, I could hear from him anytime over the next year or two.
I hope I don't. He did a brilliant job on my thumb.
Friday, 23 October 2009
Thank heavens for poor people
by John Passmore
This really is getting out of hand. Once again I prepared 100 cards.
Given the list of things to do today, there was no real prospect of handing out anything more than the usual 50 but it just shows you how habits are formed...
And once you have that weight of cards in your pocket, they seem to draw attention to themselves.
So I made a small detour to the playground: "I see you have children. I'm going to give you one of these. We have four and we found it was brilliant..."
I had one person ask me what it was all about before the dog found a gap in the fence and we had to leave...
Back home our wonderful handyman turned up to trim the bottom of the bathroom door. He works for £10 an hour and he's my constant reminder of Chris Williams' dictum: "Poor people spend time to save money. Rich people spend money to save time."
And no, the handyman doesn't want to be a rich person. Thank heavens for that - if it wasn't for guys like him the whole system would fall apart.
While all this was going on, the Parcel Force delivery man arrived with the new consignment of DVDs. Was he interested in an extra income to bolt onto what he was doing already? Quite honestly I doubted it but I told him anyway because telling people makes you rich and famous. He, on the other hand, would rather deliver parcels.
And thank heavens for him too - otherwise how would we get our DVD's?
But the way this system works is that eventually you will run into someone who would like to make the transition from being a poor person to being a rich person. Someone, for instance, like the young man handing out chocolates in Ipswich Town centre. I had dashed in after my clarinet lesson to go to Debenhams and there he was dressed up in a chefs outfit and doing a roaring trade (well you do if the chocolates are free).
Oddly enough it was his friend I started talking to. He had seemed to show more interest. But then young Dean chipped in: "I'd go for that. You mean you get paid every month - again and again?"
You could almost see the lightbulb clicking on. Some people just get it right away.
I'd have liked to have stayed chatting for longer. I'd have liked to pop into Burger King for a Martini (don't you love that sentence?) But I had to deliver my son's application for the school concert band tour of Tuscany before 4.15.
It meant that at the end of the day I had said my piece to six people but I still had about 40 cards left. Ah well...
And then, at six O'clock, I looked around the house and found it was empty.
This never happens. But Tamsin is organised and there's always an explanation on the kitchen calendar: Sure enough Owen was at a party in the middle of nowhere and I didn't have to go and find him until nine O'clock - and the others had gone to a drumming workshop and a show called "Cacophony" at the theatre.
Allowing an hour to fix myself dinner, I had 45 minutes with nothing to do! I grabbed the cards and headed for people.
In fact I lost ten minutes running into a friend at the bowling alley. She was a long-time customer and this was her mother - how do you do - and mother was already a customer in Hampshire...
By the time I hit Tesco's I had only 30 minutes left. There was a slight urge to go berserk but that would draw attention.
So I wandered aimlessly, looking for likely people: "Hi, I see you have children..." and "Look, we seem to be the same sort of age, I'm going to give you one of these..." and even "Um, this is a complete whim but you never know. Have a look at this..."
And there were a couple of men in suits, so they got: "You look successful. I'm always looking for successful people..."
By the time I ended up at the exit I'd given out all but half a dozen of the cards and four DVDs.
And then, as I headed for the exit, past all those people at the end of the checkouts, I had a brainwave: Every two paces, there was someone with a trolley full of bags. So I popped cards into bags: "One for you... one for you... one for you."
"Oh thank you...yes thanks...oh, right..."
Job done.
This really is getting out of hand. Once again I prepared 100 cards.
Given the list of things to do today, there was no real prospect of handing out anything more than the usual 50 but it just shows you how habits are formed...
And once you have that weight of cards in your pocket, they seem to draw attention to themselves.
So I made a small detour to the playground: "I see you have children. I'm going to give you one of these. We have four and we found it was brilliant..."
I had one person ask me what it was all about before the dog found a gap in the fence and we had to leave...
Back home our wonderful handyman turned up to trim the bottom of the bathroom door. He works for £10 an hour and he's my constant reminder of Chris Williams' dictum: "Poor people spend time to save money. Rich people spend money to save time."
And no, the handyman doesn't want to be a rich person. Thank heavens for that - if it wasn't for guys like him the whole system would fall apart.
While all this was going on, the Parcel Force delivery man arrived with the new consignment of DVDs. Was he interested in an extra income to bolt onto what he was doing already? Quite honestly I doubted it but I told him anyway because telling people makes you rich and famous. He, on the other hand, would rather deliver parcels.
And thank heavens for him too - otherwise how would we get our DVD's?
But the way this system works is that eventually you will run into someone who would like to make the transition from being a poor person to being a rich person. Someone, for instance, like the young man handing out chocolates in Ipswich Town centre. I had dashed in after my clarinet lesson to go to Debenhams and there he was dressed up in a chefs outfit and doing a roaring trade (well you do if the chocolates are free).
Oddly enough it was his friend I started talking to. He had seemed to show more interest. But then young Dean chipped in: "I'd go for that. You mean you get paid every month - again and again?"
You could almost see the lightbulb clicking on. Some people just get it right away.
I'd have liked to have stayed chatting for longer. I'd have liked to pop into Burger King for a Martini (don't you love that sentence?) But I had to deliver my son's application for the school concert band tour of Tuscany before 4.15.
It meant that at the end of the day I had said my piece to six people but I still had about 40 cards left. Ah well...
And then, at six O'clock, I looked around the house and found it was empty.
This never happens. But Tamsin is organised and there's always an explanation on the kitchen calendar: Sure enough Owen was at a party in the middle of nowhere and I didn't have to go and find him until nine O'clock - and the others had gone to a drumming workshop and a show called "Cacophony" at the theatre.
Allowing an hour to fix myself dinner, I had 45 minutes with nothing to do! I grabbed the cards and headed for people.
In fact I lost ten minutes running into a friend at the bowling alley. She was a long-time customer and this was her mother - how do you do - and mother was already a customer in Hampshire...
By the time I hit Tesco's I had only 30 minutes left. There was a slight urge to go berserk but that would draw attention.
So I wandered aimlessly, looking for likely people: "Hi, I see you have children..." and "Look, we seem to be the same sort of age, I'm going to give you one of these..." and even "Um, this is a complete whim but you never know. Have a look at this..."
And there were a couple of men in suits, so they got: "You look successful. I'm always looking for successful people..."
By the time I ended up at the exit I'd given out all but half a dozen of the cards and four DVDs.
And then, as I headed for the exit, past all those people at the end of the checkouts, I had a brainwave: Every two paces, there was someone with a trolley full of bags. So I popped cards into bags: "One for you... one for you... one for you."
"Oh thank you...yes thanks...oh, right..."
Job done.
Thursday, 22 October 2009
I do like to be beside the seaside
by John Passmore
The trouble with a part-time business is that things can get out of hand.
Yesterday, you may have seen that I gave out 100 cards in one day: 50 in the morning - and then went mad and gave out another 50 in the evening - and it didn't seem very hard at all.
Today I posed the question to myself: "If it's not hard to give out 50 in no time at all, how long does it take to give out 100 - and how many people would I get to talk to?
A key condition was that this had to be bolted onto something I was doing as part of my other life. Today this happened to be driving up to Southwold to empty the beach hut. All those seaside bits and pieces which might break when they move the hut or rust while it spends the winter in Southwold Pier car park - they all had to come home.
It took about five trips with my arms full of stuff - but of course, walking back with my hands empty, I could give a card to everyone I passed. And they all said: "Thank you."
Then I stopped in town and walked round the little market. This did not go brilliantly to begin with. Talking to the woman behind the farm shop butcher's stall, I got as far as: "Does anyone ever moan to you about the cost of living and the credit crunch?"
And she said: "No, we're all cheerful here. You've got to make the best of things..."
Clearly she was set for a lecture on positive thinking and while I heartily agree with her, she was interfering with my 1 minute 45 seconds. I gave her a card and moved on.
At the Swedish Goods stall, however, matters progressed much better and I'll be phoning back today to ask "what did you like best?"
In the cafe I had an audience of three for my little piece - two of them teachers (teachers make great distiributors).
The cards flew out of my hands: "This is for you... have one of these...I'm going to give you this... have you had one of these..."
And nobody attacked me, nobody called the police. In fact nobody said anything more offensive than: "Thank you very much."
Maybe I have a nice smile after all...
I had been at it for about 55 minutes when I came to the vet's surgery. He was just locking up but he opened the door.
"Are you the vet," I asked him. "Because I'm looking for business people who might like to make an extra income. I wondered if you might be one of those."
And he said he was. He got the last card, I got his contact details - and the whole process had taken 55 minutes.
I went home with a full car and a feeling of considerable achievement. And guess what happened when I arrived? I picked up my phone from the little cup holder by the gearstick and saw the light was flashing: An email.
Executive Services wished to report that someone had visited my hosted business opportunity site and left their details to ask for further information. Leaving a decent interval for him to have a good look at his information back, I called him. He was in a meeting and so we'll talk tomorrow.
And then, in the early evening, a call from a man who said: "You won't remember me but we talked about your discounted utilities in August last year. I'd like to take the gas and electricity, please."
So I'm going to see him when I get back from holiday (and he's paying BT £4.75 a month for free evening and weekend calls which can't be right...)
So tell me, is this a part-time business?
The trouble with a part-time business is that things can get out of hand.
Yesterday, you may have seen that I gave out 100 cards in one day: 50 in the morning - and then went mad and gave out another 50 in the evening - and it didn't seem very hard at all.
Today I posed the question to myself: "If it's not hard to give out 50 in no time at all, how long does it take to give out 100 - and how many people would I get to talk to?
A key condition was that this had to be bolted onto something I was doing as part of my other life. Today this happened to be driving up to Southwold to empty the beach hut. All those seaside bits and pieces which might break when they move the hut or rust while it spends the winter in Southwold Pier car park - they all had to come home.
It took about five trips with my arms full of stuff - but of course, walking back with my hands empty, I could give a card to everyone I passed. And they all said: "Thank you."
Then I stopped in town and walked round the little market. This did not go brilliantly to begin with. Talking to the woman behind the farm shop butcher's stall, I got as far as: "Does anyone ever moan to you about the cost of living and the credit crunch?"
And she said: "No, we're all cheerful here. You've got to make the best of things..."
Clearly she was set for a lecture on positive thinking and while I heartily agree with her, she was interfering with my 1 minute 45 seconds. I gave her a card and moved on.
At the Swedish Goods stall, however, matters progressed much better and I'll be phoning back today to ask "what did you like best?"
In the cafe I had an audience of three for my little piece - two of them teachers (teachers make great distiributors).
The cards flew out of my hands: "This is for you... have one of these...I'm going to give you this... have you had one of these..."
And nobody attacked me, nobody called the police. In fact nobody said anything more offensive than: "Thank you very much."
Maybe I have a nice smile after all...
I had been at it for about 55 minutes when I came to the vet's surgery. He was just locking up but he opened the door.
"Are you the vet," I asked him. "Because I'm looking for business people who might like to make an extra income. I wondered if you might be one of those."
And he said he was. He got the last card, I got his contact details - and the whole process had taken 55 minutes.
I went home with a full car and a feeling of considerable achievement. And guess what happened when I arrived? I picked up my phone from the little cup holder by the gearstick and saw the light was flashing: An email.
Executive Services wished to report that someone had visited my hosted business opportunity site and left their details to ask for further information. Leaving a decent interval for him to have a good look at his information back, I called him. He was in a meeting and so we'll talk tomorrow.
And then, in the early evening, a call from a man who said: "You won't remember me but we talked about your discounted utilities in August last year. I'd like to take the gas and electricity, please."
So I'm going to see him when I get back from holiday (and he's paying BT £4.75 a month for free evening and weekend calls which can't be right...)
So tell me, is this a part-time business?
Wednesday, 21 October 2009
Thin on Top
by John Passmore
The one advantage of thinning hair (we don't use the 'b' word) is that haircuts don't take long.
This was important because I spent a good part of yesterday trying to persuade one of my colleagues that he could find time in his busy day to give out 50 business cards.
"Impossible," he was saying. "I start work at 8.00 a.m."
"Well how about lunchtime."
"I don't stop for lunch."
"After work then?"
"I'm shattered."
We went on like this for some time...
So how long does it really take to give out 50 business cards and talk to six people? I had one hour to get into town, get my hair cut, do my daily activity and get off to my 11.30 appointment.
It was raining - so that was a good excuse to take the Mini. In the car park the next door car contained a businessman with all his papers spread out on the passenger seat while he peered at his mobile gadget. I tapped on the window.
"It looks to me as if you're in business," I said. "May I ask what you do?"
He sold watch batteries.
"That's great. I'm always looking for salespeople. Would you be interested in bolting on an extra income to what to do already?"
I had given him a DVD and swapped details before I realised I hadn't given him a card. I still had 50 to go!
Never mind, I must have shifted a dozen on the way to the hairdressers: "Have you had one of these? It's all about money... absolutely brilliant... Have you had one of these? It's all about money..."
The hairdresser hadn't watched the DVD I gave her last time. In an attempt to change the subject, she started telling me about how she and her boyfriend wanted to get their own place - which somehow led us right back to the subject of DVDs...
It was raining hard on the way back to the car so I found it necessary to pop into every shop and say: "I only came into get out of the rain. But tell you what - now I'm here, have one of these..."
All the customers got one too.
The Fed Ex man doing his delivery also got one - then we discovered I'd given him a leaflet months ago so I told him all about the business all over again and he gave me his new email address.
All the staff in the Jobcentre got cards - and they all said "thank you very much". In the TV shop I gave a mini-presentation to the three guys behind the counter and the last few cards disappeared to a gaggle of mums with pushchairs sheltering outside Boots.
I looked at my watch: 55 minutes including the haircut. I still had five minutes to get home.
In fact it all went so well that in the evening I popped out for another half an hour and did another 50 - the bowling alley, Tescos and two very empty pubs.
The silly thing is that the more you do it, the easier it gets.
I think there's an Emerson quotation about that: "Do the thing and you shall have the power..."
I know exactly what he meant.
The one advantage of thinning hair (we don't use the 'b' word) is that haircuts don't take long.
This was important because I spent a good part of yesterday trying to persuade one of my colleagues that he could find time in his busy day to give out 50 business cards.
"Impossible," he was saying. "I start work at 8.00 a.m."
"Well how about lunchtime."
"I don't stop for lunch."
"After work then?"
"I'm shattered."
We went on like this for some time...
So how long does it really take to give out 50 business cards and talk to six people? I had one hour to get into town, get my hair cut, do my daily activity and get off to my 11.30 appointment.
It was raining - so that was a good excuse to take the Mini. In the car park the next door car contained a businessman with all his papers spread out on the passenger seat while he peered at his mobile gadget. I tapped on the window.
"It looks to me as if you're in business," I said. "May I ask what you do?"
He sold watch batteries.
"That's great. I'm always looking for salespeople. Would you be interested in bolting on an extra income to what to do already?"
I had given him a DVD and swapped details before I realised I hadn't given him a card. I still had 50 to go!
Never mind, I must have shifted a dozen on the way to the hairdressers: "Have you had one of these? It's all about money... absolutely brilliant... Have you had one of these? It's all about money..."
The hairdresser hadn't watched the DVD I gave her last time. In an attempt to change the subject, she started telling me about how she and her boyfriend wanted to get their own place - which somehow led us right back to the subject of DVDs...
It was raining hard on the way back to the car so I found it necessary to pop into every shop and say: "I only came into get out of the rain. But tell you what - now I'm here, have one of these..."
All the customers got one too.
The Fed Ex man doing his delivery also got one - then we discovered I'd given him a leaflet months ago so I told him all about the business all over again and he gave me his new email address.
All the staff in the Jobcentre got cards - and they all said "thank you very much". In the TV shop I gave a mini-presentation to the three guys behind the counter and the last few cards disappeared to a gaggle of mums with pushchairs sheltering outside Boots.
I looked at my watch: 55 minutes including the haircut. I still had five minutes to get home.
In fact it all went so well that in the evening I popped out for another half an hour and did another 50 - the bowling alley, Tescos and two very empty pubs.
The silly thing is that the more you do it, the easier it gets.
I think there's an Emerson quotation about that: "Do the thing and you shall have the power..."
I know exactly what he meant.
Tuesday, 20 October 2009
Trapped!
Things were not looking so good for the business customer. I'd already established that his electricity company had rolled him into a new contract ending in 2011 - and now BT announced they had him trapped until 2013 for his telephones.
"May I ask which provider you're thinking of moving to?" asked the nice young man on the other end.
I told him.
"And why would you want to move to them?"
So I told him again: "In order to put all the utility services on one bill - the electricity, the phone, mobiles, and broadband - and to save money on the petrol and shopping as well."
The young man considered this. After a pause he said: "That sounds amazing."
So I told him a bit about this company he'd never heard about that was taking so much business from BT.
Then I said: "May I ask you a question. If you sign up someone to a new BT contract, do you get a commission?"
Oh yes, he was very proud of this. He got paid on every new contract.
"And do you get paid again every time they make a phone call?"
Well, no...
"Would you like to?"
And so, on BT's time we spent ten minutes going through how the money works and now I've got his name, his phone number and his email address and he's looking at the website.
Meanwhile things are not looking so bad for the customer either. It will only cost him £118 to cancel the contracts on his four lines. I reckond we can save him more than that before June 2011...
"May I ask which provider you're thinking of moving to?" asked the nice young man on the other end.
I told him.
"And why would you want to move to them?"
So I told him again: "In order to put all the utility services on one bill - the electricity, the phone, mobiles, and broadband - and to save money on the petrol and shopping as well."
The young man considered this. After a pause he said: "That sounds amazing."
So I told him a bit about this company he'd never heard about that was taking so much business from BT.
Then I said: "May I ask you a question. If you sign up someone to a new BT contract, do you get a commission?"
Oh yes, he was very proud of this. He got paid on every new contract.
"And do you get paid again every time they make a phone call?"
Well, no...
"Would you like to?"
And so, on BT's time we spent ten minutes going through how the money works and now I've got his name, his phone number and his email address and he's looking at the website.
Meanwhile things are not looking so bad for the customer either. It will only cost him £118 to cancel the contracts on his four lines. I reckond we can save him more than that before June 2011...
Friday, 9 October 2009
Boom bang-a-bang
And some days it just falls into your lap…
Actually I’m still haunted by the memory of Wednesday so I must have been making some effort. But it didn’t seem like that.
In the music shop we’d had a long discussion about how to silence the drum kit my 11-year-old just won on eBay. The owner was one of those knowledgeable enthusiasts. So it was easy for me to say: “Can you do me a favour? I’ve got a part-time business and every day I tell six people about it…”
And now I’ve got an appointment with him and his partner on the 19th.
Meanwhile one of his suggestions was putting the drums on an acoustic mat (available from B&Q). I stormed round the aisles leaving a paper trail of piggy cards – always listening out for anyone who took one, peered and it and said: “What’s this.”
“I’ll tell you all about it if you like… takes me precisely one minute and 45 seconds. D’you want to hear it?”
So now a builder called Trevor’s got a DVD – and so has a lovely old boy called Jim who I found heading for the garden section.
In fact I never did get the acoustic mat – neither at B&Q nor at Homebase. But on the way back I did get a call from a nice lady called Julie who rang up saying I had once expressed interest in alternative investments.
Obviously these were such good investments that they didn’t need too many customers. I could tell this because she had plenty of time for me to explain why I didn’t need any alternative investments any more – and now she’s promised to look at my way of making money. I had to extract the promise because she didn’t want to give me her phone number – all I’ve got is her email address. Still, we had such a long talk and she seemed so impressed that I’m going to count her as number four – after all, I make the rules…
Number five was a bit of a surprise: At my networking group, I’d asked if anyone knew the owner of the small hotel on the by-pass and sure enough someone did. I phoned at four O’clock as requested and the power of networking worked like a charm.
“We’ve not met but so-and-so suggested I give you a call…”
“Oh yes, she said you were going to ring. Apparently you’re going to save me some money on my bills, is that right?”
How would you like people to say that to you? Join a networking group…
Anyway we were half-way through making an appointment when she said: “It’s a bit difficult because I’ve got another job.”
“Really? What else do you do?”
“I’m a financial advisor.”
DING! On went the lightbulb : “Ah well now, I have many colleagues who are IFA’s. Would you like me to tell you how the Utility Warehouse can give you another income stream at the same time as benefiting your financial business?
I knew who was going to be the number six – the sixth former who was selling the drum kit. I went to collect it with my excited son reading the map. The drums turned out to be a real eBay bargain – only £130 and as good as new. Best of all, although the vendor was only 17, his big sister was there too and not only did the two of them listen while I told them how they could fund themselves through college but the lad said: “I know I can’t start for another nine months. But I could give out some cards for you…”
Actually I’m still haunted by the memory of Wednesday so I must have been making some effort. But it didn’t seem like that.
In the music shop we’d had a long discussion about how to silence the drum kit my 11-year-old just won on eBay. The owner was one of those knowledgeable enthusiasts. So it was easy for me to say: “Can you do me a favour? I’ve got a part-time business and every day I tell six people about it…”
And now I’ve got an appointment with him and his partner on the 19th.
Meanwhile one of his suggestions was putting the drums on an acoustic mat (available from B&Q). I stormed round the aisles leaving a paper trail of piggy cards – always listening out for anyone who took one, peered and it and said: “What’s this.”
“I’ll tell you all about it if you like… takes me precisely one minute and 45 seconds. D’you want to hear it?”
So now a builder called Trevor’s got a DVD – and so has a lovely old boy called Jim who I found heading for the garden section.
In fact I never did get the acoustic mat – neither at B&Q nor at Homebase. But on the way back I did get a call from a nice lady called Julie who rang up saying I had once expressed interest in alternative investments.
Obviously these were such good investments that they didn’t need too many customers. I could tell this because she had plenty of time for me to explain why I didn’t need any alternative investments any more – and now she’s promised to look at my way of making money. I had to extract the promise because she didn’t want to give me her phone number – all I’ve got is her email address. Still, we had such a long talk and she seemed so impressed that I’m going to count her as number four – after all, I make the rules…
Number five was a bit of a surprise: At my networking group, I’d asked if anyone knew the owner of the small hotel on the by-pass and sure enough someone did. I phoned at four O’clock as requested and the power of networking worked like a charm.
“We’ve not met but so-and-so suggested I give you a call…”
“Oh yes, she said you were going to ring. Apparently you’re going to save me some money on my bills, is that right?”
How would you like people to say that to you? Join a networking group…
Anyway we were half-way through making an appointment when she said: “It’s a bit difficult because I’ve got another job.”
“Really? What else do you do?”
“I’m a financial advisor.”
DING! On went the lightbulb : “Ah well now, I have many colleagues who are IFA’s. Would you like me to tell you how the Utility Warehouse can give you another income stream at the same time as benefiting your financial business?
I knew who was going to be the number six – the sixth former who was selling the drum kit. I went to collect it with my excited son reading the map. The drums turned out to be a real eBay bargain – only £130 and as good as new. Best of all, although the vendor was only 17, his big sister was there too and not only did the two of them listen while I told them how they could fund themselves through college but the lad said: “I know I can’t start for another nine months. But I could give out some cards for you…”
Thursday, 8 October 2009
Old Friends and New Banks
We used to be so close to Kim and Paul. Our oldest children were inseparable. When they moved house they came to stay with us for two weeks. But their new home was 40 minutes away and so we drifted apart.
I could tell just how far apart from the fact that Kim rang on my phone rather than Tamsin’s. Having two lines means you can tell when someone has had to look you up in the phone book…
It turned out that Kim wanted to know about childminding – we used to do this in the days when we were desperate for any kind of income. But when OFSTED got involved the paperwork became ridiculous and we joined the hundreds who gave up (which shows you how counter-productive over-regulation can be).
Anyway it turned out that Kim was going back to work.
“Really, what are you going to do?”
She was going to be a part-time teacher.
“Fantastic. I’m always on the look out for teachers for my little part-time business. D’you remember that?”
She had some garbled memory of gas prices but they didn’t have gas where they lived so it would be no good for them.
“No, no,” I said. “That’s not how it works at all. Actually you could do me a great favour: I have a little thing I say to six people a day. It takes precisely one minute and 45 seconds and if you wouldn’t mind, you could be my first today.”
And so I told Kim all about it – and now I’ve got to tell Paul. Besides it will be good to catch up.
So that was one – and after that I called in at our breakfast meeting venue to pay the bill l and asked the receptionist: “Do you know what we do here once a week?”
So I told her and she’s got a DVD – and since her colleague listened too, that counts as three in all.
Then into Ipswich to the dentist (he gave me a schedule of possible treatments culminating in a full implant costing £2,000!)
And since I had all of today’s 50 cards to give out as well as some left over from yesterday, I nipped into the town centre to get rid of them.
It’s amazing how quickly you can do this.
“Hi, you look successful. Are you?” I said to the guy in the suit. So he wants me to call his girlfriend who looks after the services.
And after I had given cards to all the people in the queues for the cash machines at the bank (here, have one of these. It’s about putting more money in the bank) I thought “Why stop there. Why not go into the bank.”
Banks these days are much less formal. They seem to be full of people milling around as if they were in a market. However this time I made the mistake of approaching one of the staff. By the time I saw his little lapel badge it was too late.
But instead of asking me to leave, he said he was always interested in money.
“Well, I could tell you about it. It takes me one minute and 45 seconds. But if you haven’t got a customer who wants help in that time, I could give it a go. They can always interrupt us…”
And so I did – and I roped in his colleague to make up the six. The colleague listened with a glazed expression. But the first guy took a DVD and gave me his mobile number and email address.
We even had time for a joke about how infuriated the HSBC hierarchy get if you refer to it as the Hong Kong and Shanghai Banking Corporation – I feel an obligation to do this at every opportunity since my wife’s grandfather was a manager of the Midland Bank and he’s still spinning in his grave at the thought of the Chinese getting their hands on it…
I could tell just how far apart from the fact that Kim rang on my phone rather than Tamsin’s. Having two lines means you can tell when someone has had to look you up in the phone book…
It turned out that Kim wanted to know about childminding – we used to do this in the days when we were desperate for any kind of income. But when OFSTED got involved the paperwork became ridiculous and we joined the hundreds who gave up (which shows you how counter-productive over-regulation can be).
Anyway it turned out that Kim was going back to work.
“Really, what are you going to do?”
She was going to be a part-time teacher.
“Fantastic. I’m always on the look out for teachers for my little part-time business. D’you remember that?”
She had some garbled memory of gas prices but they didn’t have gas where they lived so it would be no good for them.
“No, no,” I said. “That’s not how it works at all. Actually you could do me a great favour: I have a little thing I say to six people a day. It takes precisely one minute and 45 seconds and if you wouldn’t mind, you could be my first today.”
And so I told Kim all about it – and now I’ve got to tell Paul. Besides it will be good to catch up.
So that was one – and after that I called in at our breakfast meeting venue to pay the bill l and asked the receptionist: “Do you know what we do here once a week?”
So I told her and she’s got a DVD – and since her colleague listened too, that counts as three in all.
Then into Ipswich to the dentist (he gave me a schedule of possible treatments culminating in a full implant costing £2,000!)
And since I had all of today’s 50 cards to give out as well as some left over from yesterday, I nipped into the town centre to get rid of them.
It’s amazing how quickly you can do this.
“Hi, you look successful. Are you?” I said to the guy in the suit. So he wants me to call his girlfriend who looks after the services.
And after I had given cards to all the people in the queues for the cash machines at the bank (here, have one of these. It’s about putting more money in the bank) I thought “Why stop there. Why not go into the bank.”
Banks these days are much less formal. They seem to be full of people milling around as if they were in a market. However this time I made the mistake of approaching one of the staff. By the time I saw his little lapel badge it was too late.
But instead of asking me to leave, he said he was always interested in money.
“Well, I could tell you about it. It takes me one minute and 45 seconds. But if you haven’t got a customer who wants help in that time, I could give it a go. They can always interrupt us…”
And so I did – and I roped in his colleague to make up the six. The colleague listened with a glazed expression. But the first guy took a DVD and gave me his mobile number and email address.
We even had time for a joke about how infuriated the HSBC hierarchy get if you refer to it as the Hong Kong and Shanghai Banking Corporation – I feel an obligation to do this at every opportunity since my wife’s grandfather was a manager of the Midland Bank and he’s still spinning in his grave at the thought of the Chinese getting their hands on it…
Wednesday, 7 October 2009
Julie & Julia
We went to see Julie and Julia last night. It is, apparently, the first film based on a blog.
The blog in question was written by a woman in who set herself the challenge of cooking her way through an enormous cookbook in a single year. Inevitably there comes a day when she hasn’t managed to cook a thing.
Her husband says: “Well, can’t you just lie – who’s going to know?”
And I think what she says is “I’ll know.”
And by astonishing coincidence, that’‘s exactly what happened to me today.
Today I did not say my piece to a single person. Not one.
I started off with a breakfast meeting (this is a week of three breakfast meetings which is a mistake). It dragged. I rushed home. The dog got a very fast walk while I made a series of phone calls (which meant I had to hand out cards with an inane smile and encouraging gestures but not actually talk to anyone). Then off to pick up my son’s saxophone from school and take it with my daughter’s clarinet to be repaired (don’t drop wind instruments on the floor).
The plan then was to go into town for a few things and hand out 50 cards which means at least six people are going to say “What’s this?” … which in turn means I can tell them.
But that’s not what happened. Just as I was about to leave, a customer phoned to say she was now out of her BT broadband contract and could she please have the Utility Warehouse service. Since she has not paid three bills yet, this is not something I can order for her. She would have to sign another form – or call the office herself. I started giving her the number. Then I came to my senses.
“Tell you what,” I said. “Why don’t I pop round now, I’m only five minutes away.”
Think about it: Is that the sort of service she was used to from BT. Is she going to be pleased?
You bet she was. And so after I had got the MAC code off BT and politely fended off their attempts to keep her, I said brightly: “Now, remember the club doesn’t advertise so we rely entirely on our members recommending their friends. So who would you like to recommend today. I can take six names.”
“Oh my goodness,” she said. “I might manage a couple.”
She did. But I had already written down the numbers 1 – 6 in my book and sat there with my pen poised over number three.
So she gave me another.
And then a fourth.
And sure enough, we managed to fill all six spaces.
Of course, if I had dashed home and called all six, I could have claimed to have met my target. But first I have to let my happy customer call to warn them I’ll be in touch – which conveniently turns them from cold calls into warm leads.
So I’m not going to beat myself up too much about it. Still, must do better tomorrow…
The blog in question was written by a woman in who set herself the challenge of cooking her way through an enormous cookbook in a single year. Inevitably there comes a day when she hasn’t managed to cook a thing.
Her husband says: “Well, can’t you just lie – who’s going to know?”
And I think what she says is “I’ll know.”
And by astonishing coincidence, that’‘s exactly what happened to me today.
Today I did not say my piece to a single person. Not one.
I started off with a breakfast meeting (this is a week of three breakfast meetings which is a mistake). It dragged. I rushed home. The dog got a very fast walk while I made a series of phone calls (which meant I had to hand out cards with an inane smile and encouraging gestures but not actually talk to anyone). Then off to pick up my son’s saxophone from school and take it with my daughter’s clarinet to be repaired (don’t drop wind instruments on the floor).
The plan then was to go into town for a few things and hand out 50 cards which means at least six people are going to say “What’s this?” … which in turn means I can tell them.
But that’s not what happened. Just as I was about to leave, a customer phoned to say she was now out of her BT broadband contract and could she please have the Utility Warehouse service. Since she has not paid three bills yet, this is not something I can order for her. She would have to sign another form – or call the office herself. I started giving her the number. Then I came to my senses.
“Tell you what,” I said. “Why don’t I pop round now, I’m only five minutes away.”
Think about it: Is that the sort of service she was used to from BT. Is she going to be pleased?
You bet she was. And so after I had got the MAC code off BT and politely fended off their attempts to keep her, I said brightly: “Now, remember the club doesn’t advertise so we rely entirely on our members recommending their friends. So who would you like to recommend today. I can take six names.”
“Oh my goodness,” she said. “I might manage a couple.”
She did. But I had already written down the numbers 1 – 6 in my book and sat there with my pen poised over number three.
So she gave me another.
And then a fourth.
And sure enough, we managed to fill all six spaces.
Of course, if I had dashed home and called all six, I could have claimed to have met my target. But first I have to let my happy customer call to warn them I’ll be in touch – which conveniently turns them from cold calls into warm leads.
So I’m not going to beat myself up too much about it. Still, must do better tomorrow…
Tuesday, 6 October 2009
Back to Basics
After so long with a Win-a-Mini stand and then the Networking event yesterday, it was back to basics today – just find six people to talk to while getting on with the rest of life.
The first one turned up while I was walking the dog: a builder’s van turning into the car park. So I took a small diversion, planning to talk to him as he got out – only to find him swinging round in a wide circle and heading for the exit. I didn’t care for that so I flagged him down.
“I was planning to talk to you as you got out,” I said. “I didn’t reckon on you leaving so soon. ,”
He told me he only wanted the visit the public loo but it was closed.
“Ah… Well the reason I wanted to talk to you is because I’m always on the lookout for small builders…”
In fact the walk turned out to be very productive because next I found myself going through the level crossing gates with a yachtsman heading for the sailing club.
“Are you a yachtsman?” I asked (daft question considering he was wearing the hat, the foul-weather jacket, the boots and toting the bag over his shoulder. “I’m going to give you one of these because I know boats are expensive…”
“What’s this?”
“Well I’ll tell you all about it if you like.”
Silence while he peered at the card.
“Takes me one minute and 45 seconds precisely. D’you want to hear it?”
“OK.”
Later on the dog met a friend. The dogs greeted each other as only dogs know how. The owners said “Good morning”, remarked on the weather…
One of them said: “Let me give you one of these…”
The other said: “What’s this?”
And the first one thought: “Three down, three to go and it’s only 9.15 in the morning!”
There was then a long gap while I did Meeting One with a new distributor, went for my clarinet lesson (not a huge success) and got to three in the afternoon still with a pocketful of cards and three people to talk to. So on the way home I stopped at a parade of shops – apart from anything else, I had a letter to post.
As I got out I almost collided with a man in a suit.
“You look successful,” I said. “I always give one of these to successful people.”
It was only after I said this that I realised he had a little badge on his lapel. It said “BT”.
Ah well, we mustn’t be prejudiced. He wanted to know all about it and the next minute he was sitting in the car with me for the Martini presentation.
Only two to go so I went round the Co-op, hanging around for a promising-looking couple who seemed to be posting a hundred parcels at the little post office section. I reckoned they must have a small business – or else they were profession eBay traders.
But while I hung around near the post office, an assistant kept having to ask me to move as she went back and forth with a trolley. Now, I don’t usually approach the staff in shops in case they realise what I’m up to and ask me to stop. But this lady was just so cheerful and polite that I had no choice: “Look, I’m always on the lookout for cheerful people. I’m going to give you one of these…”
“What is it?”
“I’ll tell you all about it if you like…”
It was only at that point, when I’d reached five that I remembered that I’d already called someone I’d been referred to by a colleague at my networking club. It’s said my piece to him over the phone without evening counting it!
The first one turned up while I was walking the dog: a builder’s van turning into the car park. So I took a small diversion, planning to talk to him as he got out – only to find him swinging round in a wide circle and heading for the exit. I didn’t care for that so I flagged him down.
“I was planning to talk to you as you got out,” I said. “I didn’t reckon on you leaving so soon. ,”
He told me he only wanted the visit the public loo but it was closed.
“Ah… Well the reason I wanted to talk to you is because I’m always on the lookout for small builders…”
In fact the walk turned out to be very productive because next I found myself going through the level crossing gates with a yachtsman heading for the sailing club.
“Are you a yachtsman?” I asked (daft question considering he was wearing the hat, the foul-weather jacket, the boots and toting the bag over his shoulder. “I’m going to give you one of these because I know boats are expensive…”
“What’s this?”
“Well I’ll tell you all about it if you like.”
Silence while he peered at the card.
“Takes me one minute and 45 seconds precisely. D’you want to hear it?”
“OK.”
Later on the dog met a friend. The dogs greeted each other as only dogs know how. The owners said “Good morning”, remarked on the weather…
One of them said: “Let me give you one of these…”
The other said: “What’s this?”
And the first one thought: “Three down, three to go and it’s only 9.15 in the morning!”
There was then a long gap while I did Meeting One with a new distributor, went for my clarinet lesson (not a huge success) and got to three in the afternoon still with a pocketful of cards and three people to talk to. So on the way home I stopped at a parade of shops – apart from anything else, I had a letter to post.
As I got out I almost collided with a man in a suit.
“You look successful,” I said. “I always give one of these to successful people.”
It was only after I said this that I realised he had a little badge on his lapel. It said “BT”.
Ah well, we mustn’t be prejudiced. He wanted to know all about it and the next minute he was sitting in the car with me for the Martini presentation.
Only two to go so I went round the Co-op, hanging around for a promising-looking couple who seemed to be posting a hundred parcels at the little post office section. I reckoned they must have a small business – or else they were profession eBay traders.
But while I hung around near the post office, an assistant kept having to ask me to move as she went back and forth with a trolley. Now, I don’t usually approach the staff in shops in case they realise what I’m up to and ask me to stop. But this lady was just so cheerful and polite that I had no choice: “Look, I’m always on the lookout for cheerful people. I’m going to give you one of these…”
“What is it?”
“I’ll tell you all about it if you like…”
It was only at that point, when I’d reached five that I remembered that I’d already called someone I’d been referred to by a colleague at my networking club. It’s said my piece to him over the phone without evening counting it!
Monday, 5 October 2009
The Lookalike
Last week was boring.
Well, it would have made boring reading. We had a Win-a-Mini stand at Wyevales and so talking to six people a day was easy. In fact I probably talked to 16 a day – and very tiresome reading that would have made.
Today was hardly any different: My networking club staged what they called a “Showcase” at Mercedes Benz world in Weybridge – 200 business people and as many old cars.
I’ve been to these things before and I know that the trick is to “work the room”. There’s no point in standing talking to the same two or three people for the whole time.
On the other hand you don’t want to rush from one to the other so fast that you don’t have time to get to know each other.
By arriving early, sitting down to breakfast, mingling in the break and hanging about afterwards, I came away with 15 business cards. They will all get a “nice to meet you...do drop in if you’re ever this way” email after lunch today.
(I’m told that the best chance of getting a business person to read your email is to send it on Tuesday or Wednesday between 2.00 p.m. and 3.00 p.m.)
Four of those 15 have DVDs and so I must call them on Wednesday - and there’s one who doesn’t have a DVD who is in the diary to call on Thursday. This is a recruitment consultant from Heathrow.
The way it happened was this: I had just finished a conversation and said to my latest new friend: “We’ll, we’d better keep networking” and then, looking round the room I couldn’t see anyone standing on their own.
When this happens the technique is to look for an “open” group – two or more people who have left a space in their group. Then you can go up and say – without waiting for a pause in the conversation – “May I join you?”
But there didn’t seem to be anyone like that. Then I spotted a young man walking quickly across the room. If somebody is walking quickly, you leave them alone. They’re on their way somewhere and going to say hello would be seen as an interruption.
But this guy reminded me of Joger Shoker. He had the same look of the fashionable young entrepreneur. Joger, you may know, is the phenomenal ex-burger-flipper who has taken this business by storm, going from QE to GD in a year.
As soon as I said: “Hello” the young man stopped and smiled in return. It seemed the brisk walk was a cover for the fact that he didn’t have anyone to talk to – I’m sure we’ve all done that.
“You’re David,” I said, peering at his name badge. “And what do you do?”
We’re all there to talk about what we do and so we had two or three minutes about his recruitment consultancy business and why he made himself available to his clients 24 hours a day. We agreed that the personal service and going the extra mile was the key to success. I didn’t tell him what I did but since we agreed so much on the fundamentals he had to ask me.
So I slipped seamlessly into my 1 minute 45 second presentation (with lots of pauses to make it seem like a conversation).
As I went on, I found him looking at me more and more keenly.
Finally he said: “I could do that.”
Later on, as everyone mingled before leaving he sought me out with a whole list of questions – everything from whether he could have a link on his website to how he would get paid when he introduced another distributor.
“D’you want to see how the money works?” I asked him – and we sat down to go through the Martini presentation.
Later on, as the Suffolk contingent drove home he called me with more questions and to assure me that his wife had the most amazing contacts: “Look, I will get back to you. I mean, I’m sure I’m going to do this. I just need to show my wife because we’d do it together and we’d need to decide whether to do it through the business or as individuals. I’ll get back to you. I really will…”
I played it cool. “That’s great,” I said. “Just go on the website and sign yourselves up. When you’ve done that email me your registration number and I’ll send you your business manual as a zip file – only don’t print it all out. It’s huge and you get a paper copy with your starter pack. “
Of course I wasn’t really as cool as I sounded. The idea of another Joger Shoker joining my team was enough to keep me bubbling all the way round the M25 and back down the A12.
The thing is that successful business people already have the energy, the focus and the drive that we try to instil in all new distributors.
So, on the strength of that, when we stopped at the motorway services for a sandwich, I went round giving cards to everyone in a business suit.
“Hi,” I said to each of them. “You look successful. I’m going to give you one of these because I’m always on the lookout for successful people.”
And they all said: “Well, thank you…”
Well, it would have made boring reading. We had a Win-a-Mini stand at Wyevales and so talking to six people a day was easy. In fact I probably talked to 16 a day – and very tiresome reading that would have made.
Today was hardly any different: My networking club staged what they called a “Showcase” at Mercedes Benz world in Weybridge – 200 business people and as many old cars.
I’ve been to these things before and I know that the trick is to “work the room”. There’s no point in standing talking to the same two or three people for the whole time.
On the other hand you don’t want to rush from one to the other so fast that you don’t have time to get to know each other.
By arriving early, sitting down to breakfast, mingling in the break and hanging about afterwards, I came away with 15 business cards. They will all get a “nice to meet you...do drop in if you’re ever this way” email after lunch today.
(I’m told that the best chance of getting a business person to read your email is to send it on Tuesday or Wednesday between 2.00 p.m. and 3.00 p.m.)
Four of those 15 have DVDs and so I must call them on Wednesday - and there’s one who doesn’t have a DVD who is in the diary to call on Thursday. This is a recruitment consultant from Heathrow.
The way it happened was this: I had just finished a conversation and said to my latest new friend: “We’ll, we’d better keep networking” and then, looking round the room I couldn’t see anyone standing on their own.
When this happens the technique is to look for an “open” group – two or more people who have left a space in their group. Then you can go up and say – without waiting for a pause in the conversation – “May I join you?”
But there didn’t seem to be anyone like that. Then I spotted a young man walking quickly across the room. If somebody is walking quickly, you leave them alone. They’re on their way somewhere and going to say hello would be seen as an interruption.
But this guy reminded me of Joger Shoker. He had the same look of the fashionable young entrepreneur. Joger, you may know, is the phenomenal ex-burger-flipper who has taken this business by storm, going from QE to GD in a year.
As soon as I said: “Hello” the young man stopped and smiled in return. It seemed the brisk walk was a cover for the fact that he didn’t have anyone to talk to – I’m sure we’ve all done that.
“You’re David,” I said, peering at his name badge. “And what do you do?”
We’re all there to talk about what we do and so we had two or three minutes about his recruitment consultancy business and why he made himself available to his clients 24 hours a day. We agreed that the personal service and going the extra mile was the key to success. I didn’t tell him what I did but since we agreed so much on the fundamentals he had to ask me.
So I slipped seamlessly into my 1 minute 45 second presentation (with lots of pauses to make it seem like a conversation).
As I went on, I found him looking at me more and more keenly.
Finally he said: “I could do that.”
Later on, as everyone mingled before leaving he sought me out with a whole list of questions – everything from whether he could have a link on his website to how he would get paid when he introduced another distributor.
“D’you want to see how the money works?” I asked him – and we sat down to go through the Martini presentation.
Later on, as the Suffolk contingent drove home he called me with more questions and to assure me that his wife had the most amazing contacts: “Look, I will get back to you. I mean, I’m sure I’m going to do this. I just need to show my wife because we’d do it together and we’d need to decide whether to do it through the business or as individuals. I’ll get back to you. I really will…”
I played it cool. “That’s great,” I said. “Just go on the website and sign yourselves up. When you’ve done that email me your registration number and I’ll send you your business manual as a zip file – only don’t print it all out. It’s huge and you get a paper copy with your starter pack. “
Of course I wasn’t really as cool as I sounded. The idea of another Joger Shoker joining my team was enough to keep me bubbling all the way round the M25 and back down the A12.
The thing is that successful business people already have the energy, the focus and the drive that we try to instil in all new distributors.
So, on the strength of that, when we stopped at the motorway services for a sandwich, I went round giving cards to everyone in a business suit.
“Hi,” I said to each of them. “You look successful. I’m going to give you one of these because I’m always on the lookout for successful people.”
And they all said: “Well, thank you…”
Tuesday, 29 September 2009
Dickies
The place was deserted: A sea of empty tables; the slot machine flashing pointlessly to itself;. On the wall a massive screen played Sky sports to nobody at all.
So much for the grand plan.
All evening at the COP people had been talking about whether or not they were on the “100 Day Challenge”. This is the suggestion from Jimmy Chapman that from October 1st we should all give out 50 business cards a day - every day – for 100 days.
Now that includes weekends and Christmas. It’s a marathon and you don’t train for a marathon by running 26 miles. You start on five miles (or five or ten cards) – and I’m in training.
Today I had spoken to my six people on the Win-a-Mini stand but I still had 25 cards left. All evening at the COP I had been fiddling with my remaining stack of cards and telling people I was going to shift them at Dickies Restaurant on the way home.
Dickies is an enormous truck-stop café where lorry drivers bound for Felixstowe docks park up and wait for their delivery slot. It’s open 24 hours a day and it’s full of people with nothing to do.
But not at 11.oo p.m. on a Tuesday night, apparently. Just three blokes sitting at a table outside, smoking: “You lost?” said one.
“Well I was hoping to find lots of people to give these to?”
“What they all about then?”
So I told him - and his two mates listened.
He wasn’t interested – at least not unless he was going to get paid “cash in hand”.
He was very apologetic but banks, taxes, all that… no, I was welcome to it.
And then, with a flash of inspiration, he added: “Tell you what: I’ll give them out for your. We get lots of blokes in here during the day…”
So much for the grand plan.
All evening at the COP people had been talking about whether or not they were on the “100 Day Challenge”. This is the suggestion from Jimmy Chapman that from October 1st we should all give out 50 business cards a day - every day – for 100 days.
Now that includes weekends and Christmas. It’s a marathon and you don’t train for a marathon by running 26 miles. You start on five miles (or five or ten cards) – and I’m in training.
Today I had spoken to my six people on the Win-a-Mini stand but I still had 25 cards left. All evening at the COP I had been fiddling with my remaining stack of cards and telling people I was going to shift them at Dickies Restaurant on the way home.
Dickies is an enormous truck-stop café where lorry drivers bound for Felixstowe docks park up and wait for their delivery slot. It’s open 24 hours a day and it’s full of people with nothing to do.
But not at 11.oo p.m. on a Tuesday night, apparently. Just three blokes sitting at a table outside, smoking: “You lost?” said one.
“Well I was hoping to find lots of people to give these to?”
“What they all about then?”
So I told him - and his two mates listened.
He wasn’t interested – at least not unless he was going to get paid “cash in hand”.
He was very apologetic but banks, taxes, all that… no, I was welcome to it.
And then, with a flash of inspiration, he added: “Tell you what: I’ll give them out for your. We get lots of blokes in here during the day…”
Monday, 28 September 2009
Easy Peasey
Hey, this is cheating. Today was the first day of our Win-a-Mini event at Wyevales garden centre so speaking to six was a doddle. Being the organiser, I volunteered for the first hour handing out the invitations which I did while making a series of phone calls on the headset.
Then I had to nip home twice so didn’t actually spend a great deal of time getting the forms filled in. But Wyevales is great – nice people with plenty of time to talk. John Breadstill made six appointments in three hours.
I got one – but I also signed up a customer. This was someone I had been to see about three weeks ago. He warned me he wouldn’t sign anything there and then. He wanted to check it out, he said.
“That’s fine,” I told him. “I want you to feel completely comfortable about this… Tell you what, let’s fill in the form and I’ll leave it with you. Then you can sign it and send it to me when you’re ready. Is that OK?”
Of course it was OK. Then, once we’d filled it in, I got him to sign it anyway because: “I once did this with someone and then, when they’d decided to go ahead they sent it to be without remembering to sign it!”
As it turned out this chap wanted to get a debit card on a different account and decided to complete a whole new form so I suggested we meet in Wyevales. After all this trouble I feel confident that I’m going to be getting referrals from him for years.
The only trouble with it being so easy is that I didn’t give out 50 cards. Never mind – I’ve got a dentist’s appointment in Ipswich this afternoon…
Top Tip from the Twitter:
Paul says: When you’re about to make a long car journey, see who you need to talk to and make sure their numbers are in your phone. Then you can call them on the hands-free kit.
(And I’ll add something to this: If you keep one of those tiny digital voice recorders in the car, you can use it to make notes about what’s said - as well as collecting mobile numbers off vans on the road.)
Then I had to nip home twice so didn’t actually spend a great deal of time getting the forms filled in. But Wyevales is great – nice people with plenty of time to talk. John Breadstill made six appointments in three hours.
I got one – but I also signed up a customer. This was someone I had been to see about three weeks ago. He warned me he wouldn’t sign anything there and then. He wanted to check it out, he said.
“That’s fine,” I told him. “I want you to feel completely comfortable about this… Tell you what, let’s fill in the form and I’ll leave it with you. Then you can sign it and send it to me when you’re ready. Is that OK?”
Of course it was OK. Then, once we’d filled it in, I got him to sign it anyway because: “I once did this with someone and then, when they’d decided to go ahead they sent it to be without remembering to sign it!”
As it turned out this chap wanted to get a debit card on a different account and decided to complete a whole new form so I suggested we meet in Wyevales. After all this trouble I feel confident that I’m going to be getting referrals from him for years.
The only trouble with it being so easy is that I didn’t give out 50 cards. Never mind – I’ve got a dentist’s appointment in Ipswich this afternoon…
Top Tip from the Twitter:
Paul says: When you’re about to make a long car journey, see who you need to talk to and make sure their numbers are in your phone. Then you can call them on the hands-free kit.
(And I’ll add something to this: If you keep one of those tiny digital voice recorders in the car, you can use it to make notes about what’s said - as well as collecting mobile numbers off vans on the road.)
Sunday, 27 September 2009
The Dodgy Chain
As usual Sunday is a day off – but look what happened: I took Theo and Hugo to Rendlesham Forest with our bikes and as usual there’s something wrong with mine - if ever I wheel it backwards the chain comes off.
This has happened so many times that I put it back almost without thinking. But this time somebody joined me: “Anything I can do to help?”
I looked up: "No, it’s just the chain. It’s always happening.”
What I didn’t tell him was that I’ve promised myself a new bike when I get to Marketing Director and having a dodgy chain is a great incentive…
Maybe it was because of that, that I reached into my pocket and said: “Let me give you one of these. I always give one to helpful people.”
As he looked at it, I added: “If you like, I’ll tell you what it’s about.”
I’d only just got started and asked him if he’d heard of the Utility Warehouse and he said: “Yes.”. He’d seen it on the internet. In fact he would have been quite happy to stand there for ten minutes and talk to someone who was actively involved. But as I say it was my day off. The boys were waiting for me. So, taking his details and apologising for having to go, I promised to call him in the morning.
Top Tip from the Twitter.
Simon Gee from St Albans says: “Get up 15 minutes early and, on your way to work, get off the tube one stop before you need to. Then walk the rest of the way: You’ll pass more people, so you’ll be able to give out more cards.”
This has happened so many times that I put it back almost without thinking. But this time somebody joined me: “Anything I can do to help?”
I looked up: "No, it’s just the chain. It’s always happening.”
What I didn’t tell him was that I’ve promised myself a new bike when I get to Marketing Director and having a dodgy chain is a great incentive…
Maybe it was because of that, that I reached into my pocket and said: “Let me give you one of these. I always give one to helpful people.”
As he looked at it, I added: “If you like, I’ll tell you what it’s about.”
I’d only just got started and asked him if he’d heard of the Utility Warehouse and he said: “Yes.”. He’d seen it on the internet. In fact he would have been quite happy to stand there for ten minutes and talk to someone who was actively involved. But as I say it was my day off. The boys were waiting for me. So, taking his details and apologising for having to go, I promised to call him in the morning.
Top Tip from the Twitter.
Simon Gee from St Albans says: “Get up 15 minutes early and, on your way to work, get off the tube one stop before you need to. Then walk the rest of the way: You’ll pass more people, so you’ll be able to give out more cards.”
Saturday, 26 September 2009
This Little Piggy Went to Market
I know I don’t have to talk to six at weekends but sometimes the opportunity presents itself…
Once in a while they have a “bygones” market in Woodbridge. It’s put on by an entrepreneurial chap who spends the rest of his life buried in computer programs. But three or four times a hear he fills our Market Hill with stalls selling everything from make-it-yourself draw-string purses to table croquet. It’s unique and great fun.
And if I was going to nip into town to get some dried apricots for our B&B guests, then I wasn’t going to miss the market.
And, of course, I wasn’t going to miss the opportunity to arm myself with 50 piggy cards and mingle with a crowd.
And if you give out little pink cards shaped like piggies, you get to talk to people – like, for instance, the painter and decorator.
“How long does it take to do a decorating job?”
“Days, weeks… as long as it takes.”
“So they make you cups of tea?”
“Yes.”
“And they go out shopping and leave you there, painting away?”
“Yes.”
“So they trust you? Look I’d better tell you what I’m thinking because this could make you a lot of money.”
So he’d got a DVD and we’re talking on Monday.
Once in a while they have a “bygones” market in Woodbridge. It’s put on by an entrepreneurial chap who spends the rest of his life buried in computer programs. But three or four times a hear he fills our Market Hill with stalls selling everything from make-it-yourself draw-string purses to table croquet. It’s unique and great fun.
And if I was going to nip into town to get some dried apricots for our B&B guests, then I wasn’t going to miss the market.
And, of course, I wasn’t going to miss the opportunity to arm myself with 50 piggy cards and mingle with a crowd.
And if you give out little pink cards shaped like piggies, you get to talk to people – like, for instance, the painter and decorator.
“How long does it take to do a decorating job?”
“Days, weeks… as long as it takes.”
“So they make you cups of tea?”
“Yes.”
“And they go out shopping and leave you there, painting away?”
“Yes.”
“So they trust you? Look I’d better tell you what I’m thinking because this could make you a lot of money.”
So he’d got a DVD and we’re talking on Monday.
Friday, 25 September 2009
The Bank Manager and the Bathroom
Collect Win-a-Mini stand.
Fill up Mini.
Collect bathroom shelves.
… and , of course, talk to six…
If you’ve got one of these Win-a-Mini exhibition stands, you’ll know they’re murder to put together. Take my advice and get your local engineering company to put longer bolts on the upper rods.
And then, when you pay the bill, ask the receptionist: “Shall I tell you what it’s for?”
And there was the first…
After I’d filled up the Mini at Sainsburys and was just about to drive off a Mazda MX5 pulled up. Now there are certain people I always give a card to - and sports car driver are one category. So, quick as a flash, I flipped off the seatbelt, hopped out and: “Hi, I always give one of these to sports car drivers… if you like I could tell you what it’s about. Takes me one minutes and 45 seconds…”
“All right,” he said. “I’m only standing here while I fill up…”
Then into the store to the homewares department for the shelves. There was some confusion over these. Now that I’m an efficient person who doesn’t waste a second, I had phoned ahead to make sure they were in stock.
“You’ll need to ask someone to get them out from the back. The bathroom section is being re-organised,” said the voice on Customer Service.
“Who told you that,” demanded the man doing the re-organising. “They shouldn’t have told you that. They had no right to tell you that. I’ve got 20 rollers of stuff out the back – how am I supposed to find shelves?”
Now that I am a patient person who smiles in times of difficulty (infuriating, aren’t I?) I smiled patiently and we went and asked Customer Service – who, of course suggested that if the shelves were out the back, they could fetched and brought to the front.
And sure enough my new friend said: “Wait here – er, please wait here… um, if you don’t mind.”
Five minutes later he returned with my shelves and so I was able to say: “Thank you very much, you’ve been very helpful… tell you what, I always give one of these to helpful people – because helpful people can make a lot of money.”
Then I looked at him: In his 50’s, smiling now and not so harassed. I asked him: “This isn’t your first job is it? What did you do before?”
“I was a bank manager for 20 years.”
In the next two minutes I discovered that when he went into banking he thought he would be doing it until he was 65. He had no idea he was going to have to spend the last 15 years of his working life doing a menial job in a supermarket. Also that although Sainsburys pay well, you have to work for it. The hours are long. It was not the way he’d planned his life.”
He now has a DVD and I have his email address and phone number and we’re going to talk again on Monday.
After all this, I almost forgot to pay for the shelves. I’ve a feeling that because they’re “homewares” rather than “grocery” I don’t get 5% back on my Cashback card. But I used it anyway. I like to think that one day the computer will make a mistake.
Maybe the computer understood this because the Card didn’t work. The checkout assistant had to swipe it through her machine.
“I’ve never seen one like this before,” she said.
Now I know I’m not supposed to promote the card inside Sainsburys (why should they want to give a discount to customers they’ve got already?) But she had asked.
“It’s great,” I told her. “I get 5% cashback.”
This time the card worked. She peered at her screen: “It hasn’t given you any cashback.”
“No, I get that later, on my utility bill. Here, have one of these, that explains all about it.”
“Oo, that’s good. I’ll look at that.”
Of course, if you’re going to put up shelves in your new en-suite bathroom, you need “medium weight plasterboard fixings” available, on this occasion not from Homebase with another 5% but from Focus.
And there I met a couple wandering round the bathroom section: “Here, have one of these, it helps pay for your bathroom.”
“Really, now?”
I suddenly realised I was up to five already. One to go.
Out in the car park a kitchen fitter was getting out of his van.
“Are you a kitchen fitter?” I asked him (of course he was. Was he likely to be an insurance salesman who liked to drive around in a kitchen fitter’s van?) “Tell me, would you like to earn an extra income alongside the kitchen business? It sort of bolts onto what you’re doing already. It takes me about one minutes and 45 seconds to tell you…”
And there you are: Six and job done.
Fill up Mini.
Collect bathroom shelves.
… and , of course, talk to six…
If you’ve got one of these Win-a-Mini exhibition stands, you’ll know they’re murder to put together. Take my advice and get your local engineering company to put longer bolts on the upper rods.
And then, when you pay the bill, ask the receptionist: “Shall I tell you what it’s for?”
And there was the first…
After I’d filled up the Mini at Sainsburys and was just about to drive off a Mazda MX5 pulled up. Now there are certain people I always give a card to - and sports car driver are one category. So, quick as a flash, I flipped off the seatbelt, hopped out and: “Hi, I always give one of these to sports car drivers… if you like I could tell you what it’s about. Takes me one minutes and 45 seconds…”
“All right,” he said. “I’m only standing here while I fill up…”
Then into the store to the homewares department for the shelves. There was some confusion over these. Now that I’m an efficient person who doesn’t waste a second, I had phoned ahead to make sure they were in stock.
“You’ll need to ask someone to get them out from the back. The bathroom section is being re-organised,” said the voice on Customer Service.
“Who told you that,” demanded the man doing the re-organising. “They shouldn’t have told you that. They had no right to tell you that. I’ve got 20 rollers of stuff out the back – how am I supposed to find shelves?”
Now that I am a patient person who smiles in times of difficulty (infuriating, aren’t I?) I smiled patiently and we went and asked Customer Service – who, of course suggested that if the shelves were out the back, they could fetched and brought to the front.
And sure enough my new friend said: “Wait here – er, please wait here… um, if you don’t mind.”
Five minutes later he returned with my shelves and so I was able to say: “Thank you very much, you’ve been very helpful… tell you what, I always give one of these to helpful people – because helpful people can make a lot of money.”
Then I looked at him: In his 50’s, smiling now and not so harassed. I asked him: “This isn’t your first job is it? What did you do before?”
“I was a bank manager for 20 years.”
In the next two minutes I discovered that when he went into banking he thought he would be doing it until he was 65. He had no idea he was going to have to spend the last 15 years of his working life doing a menial job in a supermarket. Also that although Sainsburys pay well, you have to work for it. The hours are long. It was not the way he’d planned his life.”
He now has a DVD and I have his email address and phone number and we’re going to talk again on Monday.
After all this, I almost forgot to pay for the shelves. I’ve a feeling that because they’re “homewares” rather than “grocery” I don’t get 5% back on my Cashback card. But I used it anyway. I like to think that one day the computer will make a mistake.
Maybe the computer understood this because the Card didn’t work. The checkout assistant had to swipe it through her machine.
“I’ve never seen one like this before,” she said.
Now I know I’m not supposed to promote the card inside Sainsburys (why should they want to give a discount to customers they’ve got already?) But she had asked.
“It’s great,” I told her. “I get 5% cashback.”
This time the card worked. She peered at her screen: “It hasn’t given you any cashback.”
“No, I get that later, on my utility bill. Here, have one of these, that explains all about it.”
“Oo, that’s good. I’ll look at that.”
Of course, if you’re going to put up shelves in your new en-suite bathroom, you need “medium weight plasterboard fixings” available, on this occasion not from Homebase with another 5% but from Focus.
And there I met a couple wandering round the bathroom section: “Here, have one of these, it helps pay for your bathroom.”
“Really, now?”
I suddenly realised I was up to five already. One to go.
Out in the car park a kitchen fitter was getting out of his van.
“Are you a kitchen fitter?” I asked him (of course he was. Was he likely to be an insurance salesman who liked to drive around in a kitchen fitter’s van?) “Tell me, would you like to earn an extra income alongside the kitchen business? It sort of bolts onto what you’re doing already. It takes me about one minutes and 45 seconds to tell you…”
And there you are: Six and job done.
Wednesday, 23 September 2009
Lost in Translation
Don’t you just love this business?
Not the money (well maybe the money…) but also the stories?
I know I’m going to be telling this one for years: I’d done my six – a spin around town, someone coming to the door, someone else ringing up to sell me something…
Now I was on my way to the Essex COP to meet a new distributor and his first prospect. Question: How best to use the time on the A12? I could listen to an inspiring CD or I could make some calls.
Well, I still had some spaces in the Win-a-Mini schedule for Wyevales so maybe it was time to ring Tim Douglas in case he didn’t know (or to put it another way to suggest tactfully that he ought to book a couple of slots).
Very slowly and deliberately I spoke to the Blackberry: “Call Tim Douglas.”
“Are you saying ‘Call Tim Douglas?’” said the lady in the Blackberry – at least I presume that’s what she said . I often wonder why she has a sock in her mouth.
The voice that answered was not Tim. I glanced at the screen. It told me I was calling Clint Sanders. Who was Clint Sanders? The fact that his number was in my phone meant that I must have talked to him sometime – but without stopping and investigating, I had no idea when or why.
But I could make an educated guess: “Did we ever talk about you making money with TelecomPlus and the Utility Warehouse?"
Oh yes, now he remembered. Something to do with telephones and electricity wasn’t it?
And so as the Mini hummed on its way, Clint Sanders took his second look at the business - all the way from “What we’ve got here is a discount club…” to “So, d’you want to give it a go.”
I’d like to be able to report that he went straight onto the website and signed up but this is reality. He does, on the other hand, want me to ring him on Friday morning when he’s checked it out.
And Tim? Must remember to give him a ring…
Not the money (well maybe the money…) but also the stories?
I know I’m going to be telling this one for years: I’d done my six – a spin around town, someone coming to the door, someone else ringing up to sell me something…
Now I was on my way to the Essex COP to meet a new distributor and his first prospect. Question: How best to use the time on the A12? I could listen to an inspiring CD or I could make some calls.
Well, I still had some spaces in the Win-a-Mini schedule for Wyevales so maybe it was time to ring Tim Douglas in case he didn’t know (or to put it another way to suggest tactfully that he ought to book a couple of slots).
Very slowly and deliberately I spoke to the Blackberry: “Call Tim Douglas.”
“Are you saying ‘Call Tim Douglas?’” said the lady in the Blackberry – at least I presume that’s what she said . I often wonder why she has a sock in her mouth.
The voice that answered was not Tim. I glanced at the screen. It told me I was calling Clint Sanders. Who was Clint Sanders? The fact that his number was in my phone meant that I must have talked to him sometime – but without stopping and investigating, I had no idea when or why.
But I could make an educated guess: “Did we ever talk about you making money with TelecomPlus and the Utility Warehouse?"
Oh yes, now he remembered. Something to do with telephones and electricity wasn’t it?
And so as the Mini hummed on its way, Clint Sanders took his second look at the business - all the way from “What we’ve got here is a discount club…” to “So, d’you want to give it a go.”
I’d like to be able to report that he went straight onto the website and signed up but this is reality. He does, on the other hand, want me to ring him on Friday morning when he’s checked it out.
And Tim? Must remember to give him a ring…
Monday, 21 September 2009
The Slight Edge
If you haven’t read this book or listened to the CD, you’re missing something. The Slight Edge by Jeff Olson is the one book that all the top distributors recommend. This is what took Esther Callis from Group Director to Marketing Director while she lay motionless in hospital after breaking her back.
And this is what made me stop and get out of the car after I found myself driving down a cul-de-sac, had to turn round and go all the way back. I was mildly annoyed but I’m pleased to report that I was not so distracted that I stopped looking for opportunities.
Which was why I clocked the guy peeling the graphics off his van. I suppose I noticed it because he’d just peeled off the mobile number so I wouldn’t be able to send him a text.
I was about to keep driving when the slight edge kicked it: “Just do the extra little bit – the tiny 0.1% that makes the difference. ..”
I pulled up and got out.
“Hi, “ I said with a big smile (which I hadn’t been feeling two minutes earlier). “I need to ask you a question.”
He stopped peeling. He smiled. He readied himself to be helpful. There was a huge tank in the back of the van and a hose reel.
“Are you one of those filtered water window cleaners?”
He was.
“That’s how I get my windows cleaned. It’s a great system. Tell me could you use an extra income alongside the window cleaning. “
Now isn’t it funny the way everyone always says the same thing to this question: ”I could always use an extra income…”
And so we got talking – which is what this business is all about. It turns out he wasn’t interested. He used to sell gas. He knocked on doors, he stood in the street with a clip board. He’d done it all and now he just got on with his window cleaning and paid his bills and no offence but it wasn’t for him.
And that was fine. But he was a talker. For one thing he wasn’t worried about the future because he was a Jehovah’s Witness and the world was going to end anyway.
I’ve always found this fascinating because I remember a leaflet going round when I was at school. I think in those days the world was going to end in 1960 and everyone went around asking each other if they were going to repent (at the age of 11 we weren’t quite sure what that meant).
And so the window cleaner and I carried on talking: There’s a Jehovas’s Witness in my business. He’s hugely successful*. He does it so he can give his income to the church.
I suppose it must have been after a good ten minutes, while my new friend peeled away, that he suddenly looked at me and understanding dawned: “You mean that if you stopped work today, you’d still carry on getting paid?”
“Yes,” I said (why had it taken so long for the penny to drop?)
“Every month?”
“Yes.”
“The same amount every month?”
“No, every month it goes up. After a while it’s not what you do that counts. It’s what other people do.”
We then had a rather odd two minutes in which he stopped peeling the letters off the van and stood looking me hard in the eye, saying things like: “This is absolutely genuine? You promise you’re not making this up? Can I trust you?”
It was a bit un-nerving, really. What can it be like when you’re initiated as a Witness?
Then he took the DVD – and we had another minute of “I’ll watch it. I’ll watch it tonight. I promise you I’ll watch it...”
D’you know what? I think he will – and something else: If he does start this business, he’s going to fly!
• Yes, I’m told one of the marketing directors is a Jehovah’s Witness. I’ve a fairly good idea who it is but maybe I shouldn’t publicise people’s beliefs without asking them first.
And this is what made me stop and get out of the car after I found myself driving down a cul-de-sac, had to turn round and go all the way back. I was mildly annoyed but I’m pleased to report that I was not so distracted that I stopped looking for opportunities.
Which was why I clocked the guy peeling the graphics off his van. I suppose I noticed it because he’d just peeled off the mobile number so I wouldn’t be able to send him a text.
I was about to keep driving when the slight edge kicked it: “Just do the extra little bit – the tiny 0.1% that makes the difference. ..”
I pulled up and got out.
“Hi, “ I said with a big smile (which I hadn’t been feeling two minutes earlier). “I need to ask you a question.”
He stopped peeling. He smiled. He readied himself to be helpful. There was a huge tank in the back of the van and a hose reel.
“Are you one of those filtered water window cleaners?”
He was.
“That’s how I get my windows cleaned. It’s a great system. Tell me could you use an extra income alongside the window cleaning. “
Now isn’t it funny the way everyone always says the same thing to this question: ”I could always use an extra income…”
And so we got talking – which is what this business is all about. It turns out he wasn’t interested. He used to sell gas. He knocked on doors, he stood in the street with a clip board. He’d done it all and now he just got on with his window cleaning and paid his bills and no offence but it wasn’t for him.
And that was fine. But he was a talker. For one thing he wasn’t worried about the future because he was a Jehovah’s Witness and the world was going to end anyway.
I’ve always found this fascinating because I remember a leaflet going round when I was at school. I think in those days the world was going to end in 1960 and everyone went around asking each other if they were going to repent (at the age of 11 we weren’t quite sure what that meant).
And so the window cleaner and I carried on talking: There’s a Jehovas’s Witness in my business. He’s hugely successful*. He does it so he can give his income to the church.
I suppose it must have been after a good ten minutes, while my new friend peeled away, that he suddenly looked at me and understanding dawned: “You mean that if you stopped work today, you’d still carry on getting paid?”
“Yes,” I said (why had it taken so long for the penny to drop?)
“Every month?”
“Yes.”
“The same amount every month?”
“No, every month it goes up. After a while it’s not what you do that counts. It’s what other people do.”
We then had a rather odd two minutes in which he stopped peeling the letters off the van and stood looking me hard in the eye, saying things like: “This is absolutely genuine? You promise you’re not making this up? Can I trust you?”
It was a bit un-nerving, really. What can it be like when you’re initiated as a Witness?
Then he took the DVD – and we had another minute of “I’ll watch it. I’ll watch it tonight. I promise you I’ll watch it...”
D’you know what? I think he will – and something else: If he does start this business, he’s going to fly!
• Yes, I’m told one of the marketing directors is a Jehovah’s Witness. I’ve a fairly good idea who it is but maybe I shouldn’t publicise people’s beliefs without asking them first.
Sunday, 20 September 2009
Broken Bones and Ceilidhs
A lovely story on the morning twitter today: Christine Wise had a sudden phone call yesterday – her son had been rushed to hospital. He’d been with his Dad and broken his collarbone. Nothing too serious, then.
But still, she was in the hospital and naturally preoccupied. For once she wasn’t thinking about her business – not prospecting everyone who came within three feet of her as she usually does.
When suddenly someone else in the waiting room said: “All right then, tell me.”
“What?” said Christine.
“Tell me.”
It was only then that she realised she was wearing her badge. She wears it all the time – absolutely all the time.
Ask yourself this: If you were going to get paid £50,000 a year for wearing a badge, would you wear it?
I once wore mine when I took the family and the in-laws out to a rather grand restaurant to celebrate my birthday. After all, I reasoned, it was my birthday so I could wear the badge if I wanted to. The waiter asked me: “All right then, how do I save 5% on my shopping and petrol?”
Mind you I didn’t wear it yesterday to our friends’ joint 50th birthday party. But even thereI found there were opportunities: First I met a woman who worked as an accountant at the local public school.
“I used to be full time but I wanted to spend more time at home with the children,” she said. “They were very good; they let me go part time.”
“Ah well then,” I replied as if the thought had just occurred to me, “I ought to tell you about my business. It’s all part time but it pays a full time income. Tell you what: I can’t tell you here because me wife will say I’m talking shop but I’ll give you a ring next week. What’s your number?”
And of course I had my little notebook and pen…
Also, in my other back pocket I had some cards (just in case) and towards the end, when the ceilidh band was packing up, I went and talked to the bass player. He had a fascinating electronic contraption which enabled him to play drums with his feet.
We got talking: “Is this full time for you?”
(Of course it wasn’t: How many musicians playing at private parties are full time?)
He turned out to be a computer hardware engineer.
“Right then, I said. I’m going to give you one of these. I’m always looking for people with two jobs because people with two jobs can always do three – especially if they pay’s good enough.”
“Can I have some more,” he said. I’ve got some friends who might be interested…”
But still, she was in the hospital and naturally preoccupied. For once she wasn’t thinking about her business – not prospecting everyone who came within three feet of her as she usually does.
When suddenly someone else in the waiting room said: “All right then, tell me.”
“What?” said Christine.
“Tell me.”
It was only then that she realised she was wearing her badge. She wears it all the time – absolutely all the time.
Ask yourself this: If you were going to get paid £50,000 a year for wearing a badge, would you wear it?
I once wore mine when I took the family and the in-laws out to a rather grand restaurant to celebrate my birthday. After all, I reasoned, it was my birthday so I could wear the badge if I wanted to. The waiter asked me: “All right then, how do I save 5% on my shopping and petrol?”
Mind you I didn’t wear it yesterday to our friends’ joint 50th birthday party. But even thereI found there were opportunities: First I met a woman who worked as an accountant at the local public school.
“I used to be full time but I wanted to spend more time at home with the children,” she said. “They were very good; they let me go part time.”
“Ah well then,” I replied as if the thought had just occurred to me, “I ought to tell you about my business. It’s all part time but it pays a full time income. Tell you what: I can’t tell you here because me wife will say I’m talking shop but I’ll give you a ring next week. What’s your number?”
And of course I had my little notebook and pen…
Also, in my other back pocket I had some cards (just in case) and towards the end, when the ceilidh band was packing up, I went and talked to the bass player. He had a fascinating electronic contraption which enabled him to play drums with his feet.
We got talking: “Is this full time for you?”
(Of course it wasn’t: How many musicians playing at private parties are full time?)
He turned out to be a computer hardware engineer.
“Right then, I said. I’m going to give you one of these. I’m always looking for people with two jobs because people with two jobs can always do three – especially if they pay’s good enough.”
“Can I have some more,” he said. I’ve got some friends who might be interested…”
Tuesday, 15 September 2009
Sam Sam the Saniflo Man
I won’t go into detail because you might be reading this before breakfast but we have a plumbing problem.
We have had a plumbing problem for ten years – ever since we installed the world’s most expensive en-suite bathroom. It’s not particularly wonderful – it’s not a wet-room, for instance.
Although our neighbour whose dining room is underneath does have a wet-room. Every time our Saniflo loo leaks, guess where the water goes?
Obviously mending these gadgets is not a particularly pleasant task and most plumbers refuse to touch them. This means whose who do are able to charge a standard £85 for a call-out.
I don’t hold this against Sam the Saniflo man. We’ve got to know each other very well over the years. Obviously I’ve told him about my Utility business. In fact I’ve suggested it would fit in very well with what he does. He’s had a DVD but he decided against it so now I don’t mention it. I just let him park beside the Mini. I just invite him into my office while I write the cheque. I just have my MD planner on the wall, a stack of piggy cards on the desk…
“How’s your utility business going?” he asks because someone has to break the awkward silence.
Five minutes later we’re sitting down going through the Martini presentation.
He wants to think about it. He wants to watch the DVD again. I can wait. I know I’ll be seeing him again… and again…
We have had a plumbing problem for ten years – ever since we installed the world’s most expensive en-suite bathroom. It’s not particularly wonderful – it’s not a wet-room, for instance.
Although our neighbour whose dining room is underneath does have a wet-room. Every time our Saniflo loo leaks, guess where the water goes?
Obviously mending these gadgets is not a particularly pleasant task and most plumbers refuse to touch them. This means whose who do are able to charge a standard £85 for a call-out.
I don’t hold this against Sam the Saniflo man. We’ve got to know each other very well over the years. Obviously I’ve told him about my Utility business. In fact I’ve suggested it would fit in very well with what he does. He’s had a DVD but he decided against it so now I don’t mention it. I just let him park beside the Mini. I just invite him into my office while I write the cheque. I just have my MD planner on the wall, a stack of piggy cards on the desk…
“How’s your utility business going?” he asks because someone has to break the awkward silence.
Five minutes later we’re sitting down going through the Martini presentation.
He wants to think about it. He wants to watch the DVD again. I can wait. I know I’ll be seeing him again… and again…
Sunday, 13 September 2009
Sliding Doors
If you went to “An Audience with the SMDs” you will have heard about the “Sliding Doors” moment.
This is based on the film of the same name in which Gwyneth Paltrow slides effortlessly between two storylines developing in different directions depending on whether she did or did not get onto a tube train before the doors closed.
I think I might just have had one of those moments today.
For one reason and another the arrangements for MAD did not go smoothly and I ended up without a room at the hotel where Jez Tromans organised his party. It was a great night but I ended up staying at a pub a mile away. This meant that the next morning I had to walk back to pick up the Mini.
Now I’d already been exposed to one MAD in Southport and Jimmy Chapman had talked about a challenge he had set his team – to hand out 50 business cards a day for 90 days. That’s 4,500 in all. What effect do you think that would have on your business? I had decided then and there to do the same.
However at 8.30 a.m. on a Sunday morning when I knew I was going to spend the entire day in a room with 2,000 other distributors, it suddenly didn’t seem so easy.
But everything’s possible if you just think about it for a moment. So I started pushing cards through letter boxes. And of course there were a few people walking home with the Sunday papers under their arm, so they gone one and a cheery word to go with it.
But then, when I came to the paper shop I saw Cheltenham’s most dedicated entrepreneur. He turned out to be a redundant Porsche salesman who had bought himself a van with an Expresso machine in the back and he was parked on the pavement dispensing coffee and muffins to go with the Sunday supplements. What a great idea!
So we got talking and I asked him if people stood around the van drinking their coffee and whether he talked to them … and whether they ever moaned about the credit crunch and the cost of living…
And yes, he’s now looking. And if he does it, how good do you think he’ll be?
The more I think about him the more excited I become.
By the time I emerged from my second MAD of the weekend and embarked on the 170-mile drive home, I wanted more of those sliding doors moments. For instance, what if I pulled into the service station on the M5? Who would I meet there?
It turned out to be a woman with a new baby who had decided that after this one she was not going back to work.
And I found a new line of introduction too. There were a lot of people I wouldn’t go out of my way to talk to . Since I’d rather talk to people who at least look successful, I tried this: “Hi, you look successful. Am I right?”
I’m rather pleased with it – after all it was only a few days ago that I decided to give a pink pig to everyone wearing pink (or purple, or certain shades of blue) so that I could say: “I’m going to give you one of these because it matches your top…”
And you guessed it, without any apparent effort, I had spoken to my six. I can hardly wait to call them back and see what happens.
Isn’t this business exciting?
This is based on the film of the same name in which Gwyneth Paltrow slides effortlessly between two storylines developing in different directions depending on whether she did or did not get onto a tube train before the doors closed.
I think I might just have had one of those moments today.
For one reason and another the arrangements for MAD did not go smoothly and I ended up without a room at the hotel where Jez Tromans organised his party. It was a great night but I ended up staying at a pub a mile away. This meant that the next morning I had to walk back to pick up the Mini.
Now I’d already been exposed to one MAD in Southport and Jimmy Chapman had talked about a challenge he had set his team – to hand out 50 business cards a day for 90 days. That’s 4,500 in all. What effect do you think that would have on your business? I had decided then and there to do the same.
However at 8.30 a.m. on a Sunday morning when I knew I was going to spend the entire day in a room with 2,000 other distributors, it suddenly didn’t seem so easy.
But everything’s possible if you just think about it for a moment. So I started pushing cards through letter boxes. And of course there were a few people walking home with the Sunday papers under their arm, so they gone one and a cheery word to go with it.
But then, when I came to the paper shop I saw Cheltenham’s most dedicated entrepreneur. He turned out to be a redundant Porsche salesman who had bought himself a van with an Expresso machine in the back and he was parked on the pavement dispensing coffee and muffins to go with the Sunday supplements. What a great idea!
So we got talking and I asked him if people stood around the van drinking their coffee and whether he talked to them … and whether they ever moaned about the credit crunch and the cost of living…
And yes, he’s now looking. And if he does it, how good do you think he’ll be?
The more I think about him the more excited I become.
By the time I emerged from my second MAD of the weekend and embarked on the 170-mile drive home, I wanted more of those sliding doors moments. For instance, what if I pulled into the service station on the M5? Who would I meet there?
It turned out to be a woman with a new baby who had decided that after this one she was not going back to work.
And I found a new line of introduction too. There were a lot of people I wouldn’t go out of my way to talk to . Since I’d rather talk to people who at least look successful, I tried this: “Hi, you look successful. Am I right?”
I’m rather pleased with it – after all it was only a few days ago that I decided to give a pink pig to everyone wearing pink (or purple, or certain shades of blue) so that I could say: “I’m going to give you one of these because it matches your top…”
And you guessed it, without any apparent effort, I had spoken to my six. I can hardly wait to call them back and see what happens.
Isn’t this business exciting?
Tuesday, 8 September 2009
The Joy of Age
If you’ve read “The Secret”, then you’ll know we have to be very careful about what we think about and who we associate with. After the Probus lunch yesterday I seem to have aged ten years.
But on the other hand, that does have it’s uses. I went shopping in Ipswich – which is always an opportunity to give out lots of cards. Obviously it doesn’t do to just hand them out willy-nilly. People are going to take far more notice of them if they think you’ve singled them out for a reason.
And since I have four children, I tend to notice people with children. So usually it goes something like this: “I see you have children. I’m going to give you this. We have four ourselves and this has absolutely rescued us and our finances. I don’t how you’re doing but have a look.”
But today I kept on noticing men with grey hair. So instead it was: “Excuse me but we seem to be of a similar sort of age … I don’t mean to be rude … but give or take a year…
“Look, I’m going to give you one of these because this absolutely rescued me and my finances. Have a look. “
Now, while the mothers tended to hurry on ( mothers are always in a hurry) the old men would stop.
And what I found was that at least half of them peered at the card and, of course, without their reading glasses, they had no idea what it said. So then I was able to add: “If it’s any help I can tell you what it’s all about – takes me about 30 seconds. D’you want to hear it?”
So obviously, getting to talk to the six today was a doddle. Getting two appointments with the mobile shop while on the way into town was just a bonus!
But on the other hand, that does have it’s uses. I went shopping in Ipswich – which is always an opportunity to give out lots of cards. Obviously it doesn’t do to just hand them out willy-nilly. People are going to take far more notice of them if they think you’ve singled them out for a reason.
And since I have four children, I tend to notice people with children. So usually it goes something like this: “I see you have children. I’m going to give you this. We have four ourselves and this has absolutely rescued us and our finances. I don’t how you’re doing but have a look.”
But today I kept on noticing men with grey hair. So instead it was: “Excuse me but we seem to be of a similar sort of age … I don’t mean to be rude … but give or take a year…
“Look, I’m going to give you one of these because this absolutely rescued me and my finances. Have a look. “
Now, while the mothers tended to hurry on ( mothers are always in a hurry) the old men would stop.
And what I found was that at least half of them peered at the card and, of course, without their reading glasses, they had no idea what it said. So then I was able to add: “If it’s any help I can tell you what it’s all about – takes me about 30 seconds. D’you want to hear it?”
So obviously, getting to talk to the six today was a doddle. Getting two appointments with the mobile shop while on the way into town was just a bonus!
Monday, 7 September 2009
Lunch
Your cold weather payment comes in a brown envelope and looks like a tax demand.
I tell you this so that you’ll be forewarned because the shock may very well kill you.
The sense of outrage I felt when they sent me this insult through the post took years off my life, I’m sure of it: How dare they! Do they think I’m a little old man sitting by an empty fire with a blanket over my knees?
It took me six months to find something good to come out of this. But today, I thought I’d found it. I went to a Probus lunch.
Probus, if you’ve not heard of it, is an organisation for retired or semi-retired profession and business men. Once a week they get out of their wives hair (as they put it) and have lunch at the golf club and after lunch there’s a talk.
And I thought: “What a mine of potential good quality customers. But I knew I had to be careful – I could ruin everything if I rushed at it and started prospecting as soon as I got through the door: The word would soon go out – don’t sit next to him, he’s only here to flog his utility services. I might even be black-balled!
And since I find it almost impossible to keep quiet about my piggy club, I resolved not to mention it in this new one at all – not on the first day.
But then, as lunch wore on … and on, I began to have my doubts. For one thing I was the youngest there (the oldest was 94!). And then we all trooped into another room for a talk on solar eclipses by a man who had personally witnessed 19 of them. My eyelids began to droop. This was all a terrible mistake. I stumbled out into the car park marvelling at my mis-calculation.
Worst of all it was now three O’clock and I still had six people to talk to before 5.00 p.m. when they day shut down as far as the business was concerned.
And then, as I was about to get into the mini I found a golfer staring at . “You can’t help noticing that!” he said. And guess what? His wife spends £100 a week in Sainsburys. One down already.
Next I drove straight into town and started giving out micro-cards. In half an hour I had spoken to another five people and three of them gave me their details – and here’s an interesting thing.
One of those people was a grey-haired man who walked towards me and so I said: “Excuse me, we seem to be of a similar sort of age… I don’t mean to be rude or anything. But I’m going to give you one of these because this rescued me. It’s absolutely brilliant.”
And of course he said “What is it?” and I said. “I’ll tell you all about it if you like, it takes me 30 seconds. Have you got 30 seconds?”
And guess what? It turned out we had worked in Fleet Street together. He was at the Press Association when I was at the Daily Mail. And so there we stood in the street reminiscing about the old days and how pensions are not what they’re cracked up to be. He lives in Hitchin so I told him the man who presented the DVD lives in Tring.
Charming gentleman. We must do lunch…
I tell you this so that you’ll be forewarned because the shock may very well kill you.
The sense of outrage I felt when they sent me this insult through the post took years off my life, I’m sure of it: How dare they! Do they think I’m a little old man sitting by an empty fire with a blanket over my knees?
It took me six months to find something good to come out of this. But today, I thought I’d found it. I went to a Probus lunch.
Probus, if you’ve not heard of it, is an organisation for retired or semi-retired profession and business men. Once a week they get out of their wives hair (as they put it) and have lunch at the golf club and after lunch there’s a talk.
And I thought: “What a mine of potential good quality customers. But I knew I had to be careful – I could ruin everything if I rushed at it and started prospecting as soon as I got through the door: The word would soon go out – don’t sit next to him, he’s only here to flog his utility services. I might even be black-balled!
And since I find it almost impossible to keep quiet about my piggy club, I resolved not to mention it in this new one at all – not on the first day.
But then, as lunch wore on … and on, I began to have my doubts. For one thing I was the youngest there (the oldest was 94!). And then we all trooped into another room for a talk on solar eclipses by a man who had personally witnessed 19 of them. My eyelids began to droop. This was all a terrible mistake. I stumbled out into the car park marvelling at my mis-calculation.
Worst of all it was now three O’clock and I still had six people to talk to before 5.00 p.m. when they day shut down as far as the business was concerned.
And then, as I was about to get into the mini I found a golfer staring at . “You can’t help noticing that!” he said. And guess what? His wife spends £100 a week in Sainsburys. One down already.
Next I drove straight into town and started giving out micro-cards. In half an hour I had spoken to another five people and three of them gave me their details – and here’s an interesting thing.
One of those people was a grey-haired man who walked towards me and so I said: “Excuse me, we seem to be of a similar sort of age… I don’t mean to be rude or anything. But I’m going to give you one of these because this rescued me. It’s absolutely brilliant.”
And of course he said “What is it?” and I said. “I’ll tell you all about it if you like, it takes me 30 seconds. Have you got 30 seconds?”
And guess what? It turned out we had worked in Fleet Street together. He was at the Press Association when I was at the Daily Mail. And so there we stood in the street reminiscing about the old days and how pensions are not what they’re cracked up to be. He lives in Hitchin so I told him the man who presented the DVD lives in Tring.
Charming gentleman. We must do lunch…
Friday, 4 September 2009
Blood and the Slight Edge
Today I gave blood for the 28th time.
(Pause for applause)
It seems more but the “carer” – for that’s what they’re called now – assured me the notes were correct. Then he went on: “And only eleven more sessions for me.”
“Oh yes?”
“Yes I’m retiring.”
At this point I considered for a split second whether this was the time and the place to mention the business. I mean he was about to prick my finger and I wouldn’t want him distracted. But then I remembered that Esther Callis fell ten feet through a ceiling, landed on the edge of a bath, broke her back and then became a Marketing Director from her hospital bed. So I know what she could have done.
“Have you got your pension sorted out.” I asked him. “Will you have plenty of money?”
And then we sat there screened off from the rest of the world while I told him how he could secure his financial future.
Actually I can highly recommend the National Blood Transfusion service for providing just the right kind of prospects. Everyone’s really friendly – both the staff who all said “thank you “ for their piggy cards – and the donors themselves. I suppose it’s all that tea and biscuits which makes for such conviviality. I must have shifted 20 cards and walked out with the contact details for Tony the “carer” and the estate agent on the next bed.
The trouble was that by the time I came out it was four O’clock and I had an appointment at 4.30 (yes she joined) and I still had about 15 micro cards to shift.
Then driving home I realised I still had 15 minutes before the time I said I’d be home. So no-one would be expecting me: I could just dash into town and finish up.
I was down to my last couple of cards when I saw him walking towards me: Slightly balding, mildly harassed with a wriggling two year old in his arms.
“I see you have children,” I said. “I’m going to give you one of these. I’ve got four children and I find they’re very expensive items. Have a look. It’s brilliant.”
He stopped and looked. So I said: “If you like, I could tell you about it. It takes 30 seconds. Do you have 30 seconds?”
“Really 30 seconds? I’m meeting my wife.”
“Definitely 30 seconds.”
In fact we were still standing there five minutes later and I had discovered the following: They had moved out of London and were “downshifting”. He had given up a big income in favour of quality of life. They had just moved into their new house. They didn’t yet have a phone line and needed to sort out the broadband.
Of course I could have gone straight home instead.
But that is what they call The Slight Edge.
(Pause for applause)
It seems more but the “carer” – for that’s what they’re called now – assured me the notes were correct. Then he went on: “And only eleven more sessions for me.”
“Oh yes?”
“Yes I’m retiring.”
At this point I considered for a split second whether this was the time and the place to mention the business. I mean he was about to prick my finger and I wouldn’t want him distracted. But then I remembered that Esther Callis fell ten feet through a ceiling, landed on the edge of a bath, broke her back and then became a Marketing Director from her hospital bed. So I know what she could have done.
“Have you got your pension sorted out.” I asked him. “Will you have plenty of money?”
And then we sat there screened off from the rest of the world while I told him how he could secure his financial future.
Actually I can highly recommend the National Blood Transfusion service for providing just the right kind of prospects. Everyone’s really friendly – both the staff who all said “thank you “ for their piggy cards – and the donors themselves. I suppose it’s all that tea and biscuits which makes for such conviviality. I must have shifted 20 cards and walked out with the contact details for Tony the “carer” and the estate agent on the next bed.
The trouble was that by the time I came out it was four O’clock and I had an appointment at 4.30 (yes she joined) and I still had about 15 micro cards to shift.
Then driving home I realised I still had 15 minutes before the time I said I’d be home. So no-one would be expecting me: I could just dash into town and finish up.
I was down to my last couple of cards when I saw him walking towards me: Slightly balding, mildly harassed with a wriggling two year old in his arms.
“I see you have children,” I said. “I’m going to give you one of these. I’ve got four children and I find they’re very expensive items. Have a look. It’s brilliant.”
He stopped and looked. So I said: “If you like, I could tell you about it. It takes 30 seconds. Do you have 30 seconds?”
“Really 30 seconds? I’m meeting my wife.”
“Definitely 30 seconds.”
In fact we were still standing there five minutes later and I had discovered the following: They had moved out of London and were “downshifting”. He had given up a big income in favour of quality of life. They had just moved into their new house. They didn’t yet have a phone line and needed to sort out the broadband.
Of course I could have gone straight home instead.
But that is what they call The Slight Edge.
Thursday, 3 September 2009
Plan B
“Turn around where possible,” said the lady on the satnav. “Turn around where possible…”
She had been saying this for the last five miles as we crawled westward after being diverted off the A14. Where we were going, I had no idea. I was supposed to be going to Tamworth in Staffordshire for a training with Chris Williams and the ETA was slowly ticking forwards to a point where now it was dangerously close to the starting time for the workshop.
Quite why we were in the middle of the countryside (me and the refrigeration lorry in front of me and everyone else who had spent the last 40 minutes crawling towards the exit) I had no idea.
One way and another it was making a nonsense of Plan A.
Plan A, I had borrowed from Christine Wise on the morning conference call. Whenever Christine is driving anywhere she builds an extra half hour onto the journey and then pulls into every service station and hands out an armful of Independences. I had them stacked in the boot – together with my usual 21 micro cards and 75 piggy cards. I wasn’t too sure whether I could shift the piggy cards but I was determined to do the rest – after all,what else was I going to do today if I was spending half of it in the car and the other half shut in a room with a dozen other distributors?
It wasn’t even as if the refrigeration lorry had a mobile number on the back for a text – and I’d already done all the calls I had listed for the day.
So what (as Tony Robbins would say) was the best thing about this situation? Well , that became clear when I did manage to arrive in Tamworth 15 minutes early after all – but only because I’d used up all the extra time in getting there.
Dashing into a pub for a sandwich I was rescued by the landlady who looked at my Make Money/Save Money badge and said: “What’s all that about, then” So I told her.
As I paused in mid-flow for her to serve another customer, my phone rang. It was my sister who is a Customer Gathering Association and always says that one day she’ll become a full-blown distributor.
Ha! An opportunity…
“Hang on a minute, while I just order my lunch,” I told her, and put the phone on the bar. Sis then got a demonstration of how easy it is to talk to people and how the barmaid took my little notebook and carefully wrote down her name, her mobile number and her email address.
But by 5.30 in the afternoon that was the sum total of my prospecting activity for the day. So when it came to driving home, I had some slack to take up.
If ever you should drive the route from Tamworth to Woodbridge, you will be astonished by the number of Little Chefs there are. I had no idea. There must have been a dozen and I stopped at every one. I shifted all micro cards and all the Independences and I said my piece to two people. Neither of them were interested and my total number of presentations for the day came to just three.
But for Plan B, that’s not so bad. And besides, I tell myself, tomorrow is another day…
She had been saying this for the last five miles as we crawled westward after being diverted off the A14. Where we were going, I had no idea. I was supposed to be going to Tamworth in Staffordshire for a training with Chris Williams and the ETA was slowly ticking forwards to a point where now it was dangerously close to the starting time for the workshop.
Quite why we were in the middle of the countryside (me and the refrigeration lorry in front of me and everyone else who had spent the last 40 minutes crawling towards the exit) I had no idea.
One way and another it was making a nonsense of Plan A.
Plan A, I had borrowed from Christine Wise on the morning conference call. Whenever Christine is driving anywhere she builds an extra half hour onto the journey and then pulls into every service station and hands out an armful of Independences. I had them stacked in the boot – together with my usual 21 micro cards and 75 piggy cards. I wasn’t too sure whether I could shift the piggy cards but I was determined to do the rest – after all,what else was I going to do today if I was spending half of it in the car and the other half shut in a room with a dozen other distributors?
It wasn’t even as if the refrigeration lorry had a mobile number on the back for a text – and I’d already done all the calls I had listed for the day.
So what (as Tony Robbins would say) was the best thing about this situation? Well , that became clear when I did manage to arrive in Tamworth 15 minutes early after all – but only because I’d used up all the extra time in getting there.
Dashing into a pub for a sandwich I was rescued by the landlady who looked at my Make Money/Save Money badge and said: “What’s all that about, then” So I told her.
As I paused in mid-flow for her to serve another customer, my phone rang. It was my sister who is a Customer Gathering Association and always says that one day she’ll become a full-blown distributor.
Ha! An opportunity…
“Hang on a minute, while I just order my lunch,” I told her, and put the phone on the bar. Sis then got a demonstration of how easy it is to talk to people and how the barmaid took my little notebook and carefully wrote down her name, her mobile number and her email address.
But by 5.30 in the afternoon that was the sum total of my prospecting activity for the day. So when it came to driving home, I had some slack to take up.
If ever you should drive the route from Tamworth to Woodbridge, you will be astonished by the number of Little Chefs there are. I had no idea. There must have been a dozen and I stopped at every one. I shifted all micro cards and all the Independences and I said my piece to two people. Neither of them were interested and my total number of presentations for the day came to just three.
But for Plan B, that’s not so bad. And besides, I tell myself, tomorrow is another day…
Wednesday, 2 September 2009
One-two-three...One-two-three...
I never could get the hang of the waltz. Apart from anything else the music is so dirge-like. Besides, it was always the first dance of the lesson and Tamsin and I invariably arrived late after shoving half the children into bed and waving the babysitter at the rest of them.
But we thought that it would be good for us to do something together at least once a week. This lasted for three years. We can do a passable jive, we never learned the waltz and please don’t ask me about the slow foxtrot. But it did bring me a customer or two – and yesterday it might well have brought me another one.
I was out by the little post office with my mobile shop. The mobile shop is an A-board with a poster on each side explaining how Mr and Mrs Lindsey cut £31.65 off their utility bill. It’s brilliant; I take it into the street not too far from a Sainsbury’s and plonk it down beside a likely prospect saying: “May I move my mobile shop next to you?”
They say: “What’s this?” and I just gesture at the board. Then, when they’ve read it, I ask them: “So would you like to cut £31.65 off your utility bills every month forever?”
The best it’s ever done has been three appointments in an hour. But yesterday it got me a Sky salesman who said: “Yes, I didn’t know whether to join Sky or TelecomPlus. I’ve been thinking lately that maybe I made the wrong choice.”
So he’s looking at the DVD again and thinking about coming to the Norwich COP.
And also Sue the bouncing lady.
You wouldn’t know she was a bouncing lady unless you had seen her do the Cha-Cha. But that’s what she does – she bounces up and down like a little rubber ball. And since introductions at evening classes are rather cursory, that was how we knew her “The Bouncing Lady”. In fact she was half of the bouncing couple because Trevor bounced as well – but then since they’re the last couple still doing the class after six years, it’s quite possible that you’re supposed to bounce when doing the Cha-Cha.
Anyway she looked at my mobile shop, looked at me and said “Hello” in that embarrassingly familiar way which says I’m supposed to recognise someone.
I didn’t but she was very kind (although she didn’t exactly say “remember me, I’m the bouncing lady.”
But she did remember my cheap utilities and now she realises she can save at Sainsbury’s she wants me to ring Trevor and tell him all about it.
So that was two from the six that I need to talk to every day.
As for the others, well, half an hour with the mobile shop gets you those with no trouble. But I should tell you about the man who pulled up next to the Mini in the car park at Woodbridge, got out and studiously read the car from one end to the other.
“D’you want one?” I said.
“What?”
“A Mini. D’you want one?”
“Yes, I love Minis.”
So I gave him the 30 second presentation and he was interested. Then, when it came to taking his email address it turned out he needed to sort out his broadband.
So today at 11 o’clock I’ll be going to do that for him – as well as showing him how to get that Mini.
But we thought that it would be good for us to do something together at least once a week. This lasted for three years. We can do a passable jive, we never learned the waltz and please don’t ask me about the slow foxtrot. But it did bring me a customer or two – and yesterday it might well have brought me another one.
I was out by the little post office with my mobile shop. The mobile shop is an A-board with a poster on each side explaining how Mr and Mrs Lindsey cut £31.65 off their utility bill. It’s brilliant; I take it into the street not too far from a Sainsbury’s and plonk it down beside a likely prospect saying: “May I move my mobile shop next to you?”
They say: “What’s this?” and I just gesture at the board. Then, when they’ve read it, I ask them: “So would you like to cut £31.65 off your utility bills every month forever?”
The best it’s ever done has been three appointments in an hour. But yesterday it got me a Sky salesman who said: “Yes, I didn’t know whether to join Sky or TelecomPlus. I’ve been thinking lately that maybe I made the wrong choice.”
So he’s looking at the DVD again and thinking about coming to the Norwich COP.
And also Sue the bouncing lady.
You wouldn’t know she was a bouncing lady unless you had seen her do the Cha-Cha. But that’s what she does – she bounces up and down like a little rubber ball. And since introductions at evening classes are rather cursory, that was how we knew her “The Bouncing Lady”. In fact she was half of the bouncing couple because Trevor bounced as well – but then since they’re the last couple still doing the class after six years, it’s quite possible that you’re supposed to bounce when doing the Cha-Cha.
Anyway she looked at my mobile shop, looked at me and said “Hello” in that embarrassingly familiar way which says I’m supposed to recognise someone.
I didn’t but she was very kind (although she didn’t exactly say “remember me, I’m the bouncing lady.”
But she did remember my cheap utilities and now she realises she can save at Sainsbury’s she wants me to ring Trevor and tell him all about it.
So that was two from the six that I need to talk to every day.
As for the others, well, half an hour with the mobile shop gets you those with no trouble. But I should tell you about the man who pulled up next to the Mini in the car park at Woodbridge, got out and studiously read the car from one end to the other.
“D’you want one?” I said.
“What?”
“A Mini. D’you want one?”
“Yes, I love Minis.”
So I gave him the 30 second presentation and he was interested. Then, when it came to taking his email address it turned out he needed to sort out his broadband.
So today at 11 o’clock I’ll be going to do that for him – as well as showing him how to get that Mini.
Friday, 14 August 2009
Done and Dusted
It’s only lunchtime but I’ve got the six in the bag already.
In the carpark at my breakfast meeting was a man cleaning cars – a entrepreneur if ever there was one. In fact, once we got talking, it turned out he was a toastmaster on the side: The picture of him on his card (red coat and white tie) showed that here was someone with diversity. So he’s looking.
Next we have a friend staying from Columbia. Her parents live in Kent so she needs an internet phone – so she called them and put me on.
Number three was a woman ringing to tell me if I could get a grant to go on a neuro-linguistic programming course (only if I employ five people). What’is your business, she asked.
So I told her.
I called someone who had responded to a text yesterday. How serious are you about making money – on a scale of 1 – 10?
“I’m not serious at all.”
Next!
Next was a call to a referral. They didn’t want an appointment but they did want an email about the cashback card.
And finally I get a call from a young man trying to sell me a domain name for our bed and breakfast business.
“If I take one, do you get a commission?” I asked him.
“A bit,” he said.
“And do you get paid every time someone looks at my website and then comes to stay?”
“Well.. no.”
“Would you like to?”
And now he’s looking.
So that just leaves the daily activity from the Business Development Plan. And that means going into town.
Here’s my list:
Post a parcel.
Collect my son’s glasses.
Get some keys cut.
Pick up the new blinds.
Go to Boots…
… and in the process shift 24 Independences and 21 micro cards.
And I bet I’ll see a couple of tradesman’s vans to send a texts to.
In the carpark at my breakfast meeting was a man cleaning cars – a entrepreneur if ever there was one. In fact, once we got talking, it turned out he was a toastmaster on the side: The picture of him on his card (red coat and white tie) showed that here was someone with diversity. So he’s looking.
Next we have a friend staying from Columbia. Her parents live in Kent so she needs an internet phone – so she called them and put me on.
Number three was a woman ringing to tell me if I could get a grant to go on a neuro-linguistic programming course (only if I employ five people). What’is your business, she asked.
So I told her.
I called someone who had responded to a text yesterday. How serious are you about making money – on a scale of 1 – 10?
“I’m not serious at all.”
Next!
Next was a call to a referral. They didn’t want an appointment but they did want an email about the cashback card.
And finally I get a call from a young man trying to sell me a domain name for our bed and breakfast business.
“If I take one, do you get a commission?” I asked him.
“A bit,” he said.
“And do you get paid every time someone looks at my website and then comes to stay?”
“Well.. no.”
“Would you like to?”
And now he’s looking.
So that just leaves the daily activity from the Business Development Plan. And that means going into town.
Here’s my list:
Post a parcel.
Collect my son’s glasses.
Get some keys cut.
Pick up the new blinds.
Go to Boots…
… and in the process shift 24 Independences and 21 micro cards.
And I bet I’ll see a couple of tradesman’s vans to send a texts to.
Sunday, 19 July 2009
Wednesday, 15 July 2009
Tuesday, 14 July 2009
Some days gush
by John Passmore
There’s a lot said in this business about priming the pump – just put in the effort, don’t expect to see any results … and then suddenly everything starts to gush. Today was a bit like that.
First the phone rang and I had no idea who was on the other end. This is where technology is so wonderful: While listening to the voice saying I had rung yesterday and the apologies for not getting back to me, I hastily typed the number which was calling me into my wonderful database – and up popped the name. A quick click brought up the fact that this was a man who had just started a new business and somebody I had met at a networking group had recommended I call him.
Indeed I had done just this (and left a message which merely said I had been recommended to call him). This last bit was absolutely true and if you say no more than that, people will always call you back.
So now I knew who he was, I was able to tell him why I had called – and did the first of my 30 seconds presentations for the day.
And guess what he said: “Ah, I know all about the Utility Warehouse. I met one of your colleagues a couple of weeks ago. I’ve got his card somewhere and I was meaning to call him to sort out my huge electricity bills…”
So I went to see him and we’re not only sorting out his electricity bills but his phone and broadband and his second line and he’s even having an 0800 number.
Then it was off to Ipswich to take advantage of the 10% off with the cashback card at Debenhams - we’re having a week in Southwold soon and you can’t been seen looking shabby there.
“Do you want to save £17 pounds?” asked the sales assistant – they always do this: You get 10% off when you take out a store card.
“No thanks, I already save that much by using this card,” I said, flourishing my piggy card.
She took no notice.
“Would you like to save 10% too… no, you probably get a discount already.”
Yes, she said she did.
“Then would you like to save at Sainsbury’s.”
“Can I save at Sainsbury’s?”
“Do you shop there?”
“All the time.”
“Write yourself down (I slid my little notebook across the counter) and I’ll give you a ring when you’re not working…”
On the strength of this, I then went into the street and handed out two dozen micro cards.
And if you do that, you get half a dozen people saying: “What’s this then?”
In which case it wouldn’t be polite not to tell them – and so you do…
One way and another, I thoroughly deserved what happened when I got home.
I was peeling carrots at the time, so I let the call go to voicemail. When I picked it up, I found it said this: “Hello, my name is Judy R---- and my brother Richard tells me I should call you about my electricity bills. Eon keep charging more and more and I understand you can save me a lot of money. Please would you give me a call.”
There’s a lot said in this business about priming the pump – just put in the effort, don’t expect to see any results … and then suddenly everything starts to gush. Today was a bit like that.
First the phone rang and I had no idea who was on the other end. This is where technology is so wonderful: While listening to the voice saying I had rung yesterday and the apologies for not getting back to me, I hastily typed the number which was calling me into my wonderful database – and up popped the name. A quick click brought up the fact that this was a man who had just started a new business and somebody I had met at a networking group had recommended I call him.
Indeed I had done just this (and left a message which merely said I had been recommended to call him). This last bit was absolutely true and if you say no more than that, people will always call you back.
So now I knew who he was, I was able to tell him why I had called – and did the first of my 30 seconds presentations for the day.
And guess what he said: “Ah, I know all about the Utility Warehouse. I met one of your colleagues a couple of weeks ago. I’ve got his card somewhere and I was meaning to call him to sort out my huge electricity bills…”
So I went to see him and we’re not only sorting out his electricity bills but his phone and broadband and his second line and he’s even having an 0800 number.
Then it was off to Ipswich to take advantage of the 10% off with the cashback card at Debenhams - we’re having a week in Southwold soon and you can’t been seen looking shabby there.
“Do you want to save £17 pounds?” asked the sales assistant – they always do this: You get 10% off when you take out a store card.
“No thanks, I already save that much by using this card,” I said, flourishing my piggy card.
She took no notice.
“Would you like to save 10% too… no, you probably get a discount already.”
Yes, she said she did.
“Then would you like to save at Sainsbury’s.”
“Can I save at Sainsbury’s?”
“Do you shop there?”
“All the time.”
“Write yourself down (I slid my little notebook across the counter) and I’ll give you a ring when you’re not working…”
On the strength of this, I then went into the street and handed out two dozen micro cards.
And if you do that, you get half a dozen people saying: “What’s this then?”
In which case it wouldn’t be polite not to tell them – and so you do…
One way and another, I thoroughly deserved what happened when I got home.
I was peeling carrots at the time, so I let the call go to voicemail. When I picked it up, I found it said this: “Hello, my name is Judy R---- and my brother Richard tells me I should call you about my electricity bills. Eon keep charging more and more and I understand you can save me a lot of money. Please would you give me a call.”
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