Why And What

by John Passmore

So why on earth should you want to read the ramblings of an old has-been hack who gave up on journalism when he discovered network marketing?

Good question: First of all, it wasn't my idea. You have Paul Johnstone to blame for this. He took a look at the emails I circulate to my team and said: "You should start a blog."

The trouble is that with vain old hacks who haven't seen their names in print for more than ten minutes, it doesn't take much.

But mostly I thought it might help. The way I saw it, if I wrote a daily dairy of how I conducted my business, then it might give you some ideas.

And besides, if I knew that every evening (or at least a couple of times a week) I was going to sit down and account for my day, then I had better make sure I had done something to write about...

And today. On a whim, I started.

Actually today didn't start well from an activity point of view - unlelss you count the unemployed man who came selling household products from an enormous holdall and went away with a DVD, a copy of the Independence and an invitation to the COP.

Mainly the time got eaten up because today the company announced their end-of-year accounts which were so astonishing (turnover up 49% in a recession for heavens's sake) that I had to tell everyone about it. Then the commission statements came out and there was a frantic round of emailing to see who’s residual income had gone up the most this month. Our Marketing Director Mark Adams was crowing about 14% and then Sonia Hollis topped it with 18%. I sent an email saying “Yeah, well I'm only up 11%. I told you this business wouldn't work. I'm going to go and get a job...”

It’s at times like this that you have to remember most people have to be content with 3% a year.
But all of this meant that by Two O’clock in the afternoon I hadn’t talked to anybody at all outside TelecomPlus – and that just won’t do.

Now I have a rule that every day I will tell six people about this business and so I went into town to post the broken bit of my shaver to the repair company in Dorking and looked for likely prospects. Normally, I make a point of falling into conversation with people in petrol stations and whatnot but when in dire straits like this I resort to desperate measures which sometime work and sometimes don’t.

I just walk up to people who seem to be hanging around waiting for something and say: “Excuse me, can you help me? Every day I ask six people the same daft question and here we are at two O’clock and I haven’t asked anyone so would you mind if I started with you?”

The first person said no but the next two said OK.

On I blundered: “I’m looking for people who would like some more money but don’t have the time to go out and earn it and I wondered if you might be one of those.”

They both smiled indulgently and said “No”.

It doesn’t matter of course. I was half way to my six. Then I saw a group of three people sitting on a wall. Brilliant: “Excuse me, every day I ask six people the same daft question and here we are at quarter past two and I’ve only asked three. But there are three of you so I could clean up and push off home…”

They smiled indulgently and off I went into my daft question.

And they all said no.

In theory, of course, I should have pedalled happily home content in the knowledge of a job well done.

Except that I hadn’t actually got any nearer any more customers or distributors. But in Cumberland Street I did find my way blocked by a huge removal van… and it had a mobile number on the back.

Great. Whenever I see a van with a mobile number I send a text asking if they want to make any extra money. You be surprised by the number of people who text back and say “yes”.

It was also surprising, come to think of it, that a removal van had a mobile number on the side – after all who would answer it? The boss, the person in the dispatch department… the driver?

Then on the door of the cab I read the words “Owner-Operator”. Doing a quick U-turn onto the pavement I doubled back and spoke to the man in the door.

Yes it was his van and no things weren’t quite so busy in the removals business now – all part of the housing slump, you know. Well, he was always interested in extra money… and out came my notebook for his name and email address.

It was while all this was going on that his client came out of his new house to collect his television (he was one of those extraordinary people who keep the original box just in case they should ever want to pack it away again). We chatted about the delights of living in Woodbridge – he came from Essex and yes, of course he would want to organise the utility services for his new home.

So now I’m going to ring him next Wednesday when he’s unpacked his diary…