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Archive for the ‘networking’ Category

They don’t have school fetes in Spain – at least not according to the 15-year-old Spanish student who is staying with us for a month this summer. So I took him round, explained about coconut shies and Punch and Judy (I invested Punch and Judy with all the significance of Shakespeare). But eventually he got bored with listening to my contribution to the African Drumming Workshop and wandered off. I headed for the Fire Engine.
Now, it is a fact that from the age of five I have wanted to be a fireman. Indeed in the dark days when I was broke and unemployed, I applied to be a retained firefighter (they never bothered to write back). So I went and moaned about all this to a very nice man looking after the fire engine.
It turned out he was a retained firefighter too – which means that being a hero was a little part-time thing for him. The rest of the time he had his own business supplying first aid kits to businesses.
I couldn’t help it; I asked him how that was going.
He gave me the same reply that everone else does: “Terrible.The recession’s making a big difference.
So I couldn’t really say anything else. I said: “I have a colleague who’s a retained firefighter – Keith Bassi. Do you know him?”
- amazingly the guy said he thought he did.
The upshot is that he’s looking at the website and I’m calling him on Monday – and, in the long run, that’s all that matters …

The little old lady cancelled at the last minute. They do that. Little old ladies are rarely open-minded.
So there I was fifteen miles from home and wondering what to do with myself for an hour.
A small voice in the back of my head announced: “Find someone else to talk to.”
I drove on and came to a dry cleaners. That would do.
“Hello, is this your business,” I said brightly to the girl behind the counter. Clearly it wasn’t.
She said so. She said the owners were in Colchester. Then a man in his 60s came in with “Entrepreneur” written all over him. It turned out he was the owner – or at least he was until the end of the week. He’d sold the business. He was retiring.
“That’s great,” I said, changing horses in mid-stride. “Is your pension big enough for all the things you want to do or would you be open to looking at a way to increase it. It would take me five minutes to show you. Want to see it?”
He was not sure. He had a draw-down pension whatever that may be. You could see the internal struggle going on: The dignified sceptic versus the successful businessman always open to new ideas.
I was very proud of the way I stuck to my guns. If he wanted to know any more about it, I would have to show him and that would take five minutes.
It was quite fun to have him wheedling away, too proud to ask for a presentation but too curious to leave it alone. In the end he said: “All right come round” and I walked round to the back of the building and into a huge hanger of a place with industrial washing machines dotted about in a somewhat haphazard fashion appropriate to a business which was now someone else’s problem.
I balanced my presenter on to of a spin dryer the size of car. We were there for an hour.
I would like to be able to say he joined but that wasn’t what happened.
What did happen was that I walked out with the phone number for his brother. Apparently his brother is good at spotting opportunities – and if he’s good enough for the brother, it would be good enough for my new friend too.
So I’m looking forward to helping them both get started. Who said that little old ladies are a waste of time?

It was only a quick dash into town to get some bread while the children were at their after-school maths class. But it wasn’t going to take any longer if I gave out some piggy cards on the way.  I had shifted about 30 (only one person said “No thank you”) when I found myself walking next to a window cleaner – well, he had a step ladder and one of those king-size bum bags hanging off one side.

“Are you a window-cleaner?” I asked foolishly.

Actually it was very foolish because he said: “No I’m an intruder alarm fitter.”

“Ah well, never mind. Have a pink pig.”

“What’s this?” he asked.

“It’s about money. Are you interested in money?”

“Always interested in money.”

What happened next just goes to show that you never can tell: It transpired that he was about to take a course in how to trade the stock market. He and his friend had got fed up with waiting for their investments to earn them some money and decided they might as well gamble it. Do you think I had something that might interest him?

Then, just as I was about to pick up the children, Sue called. Sue is someone I last spoke to in January who wanted to leave it six months while she got her cleaning business started. I had left a message in the morning when I walked the dog, asking how things were going.

And do you know, she seemed really pleased I had taken an interest. She still wasn’t ready to start, of course: Her mother has been taken seriously ill and her daughter was doing her A levels. But she wants another call on August 1st. You never know how patient you’ll have to be in this business…

And so I went in to pick up the children and the Maths teacher looked at my badge: “I love the club”, it says – with a big red heart for “love”.

“This is your club,” she said. Needless to say I had told her about it years ago but her husband was always too busy. Now she said: “It’s growing then, this club? I keep hearing about it from other people.”

“Oh yes, it’s growing all right.”

“Well you must call my husband again. I’ll tell him to talk to you. We should be in this club.”

If the key had fitted this would never have happened.

But it didn’t. In fact all six of the new front door keys which the shoe repair man cut for me yesterday completely failed too open the lock. So that was the only reason I went back into town today – and since I was there, I thought I might as well add another couple of people to the list.

This really is so easy to do. My company gives away a brand new BMW Mini in a free draw so all I had to do was hang around the corner of the car park where everyone walks, look for a likely prospect and say: “Hi there. I’ve got a prize draw going on. D’you want to have a go? You could win a car!”

I filled in two forms. On the first one I see I wrote: “Call July 20th (back from abroad)  to set up appointment. Wife possible distributor?”.

On the second I wrote simply: “Call anytime.”

I did call anytime. In fact I called three hours later and have now added a note underneath: “Appointment Thursday June 10th 1.00p.m.”

Was that easy or what?

You know you’re a network marketer when you start stalking prospects.

I don’t mean crawling on your belly through the heather with a spyglass and a rifle. I mean that you just listen to them in a different way – always waiting for the right moment.

I waited all afternoon for it yesterday- but then I had all afternoon to wait: Mike and I were shut in the kitchen together – or rather “the galley”, this being the yacht club. Mike is the chef and I was volunteered for the afternoon while three of my children charged up and down the river in sailing dinghies before joining the other 70 young sailors in launching themselves en masse at my display of cakes and buns.

But before that there was the period of calm during which Mike and I methodically filled tray after tray with tuna and mayonnaise, egg and mayonnaise, thai chicken, ham and tomato, sponge cake, fruit cake, coffee and walnut and so on.

Dabbing a pinch of cress onto my umpteenth egg mayonnaise roll, I asked: “What do you do the rest of the time? Is this a catering business for you?”

And he was off: How this was it. How he had been in the Army Catering Corps so he had his army pension and how his wife worked part-time in M&S. They were both part-timers. They didn’t make a fortunute but it did mean they got to see more of each other.

At that moment there were two honks on the hooter in the crow’s nest above hour heads.

“That wasn’t two hoots, was it?” said Mike, suddenly alert. “That’s the signal for a shortened course… and we’re not nearly ready!”

The next hour flew by in a blur young red faces at the hatch, rolls, cakes and fizzy drinks – and all the while I was thinking about Mike and his wife and their modest income and what I could do for them.

Of course the next time things quietened down, it was his turn to ask me: “So what do you do?”

So I told him what I used to do – and how I retired too early – and how that turned out to be a mistake. And that gave me the chance to say: “Mind you, it turned out to be a blessing in the end. Because if I hadn’t been out of work, I’d never have started what I do now – which is brilliant because: Get this. I get a pay rise every month.”

He paused for the first time. He was actually motionless, his knife poised over a Victoria sandwich the size of Wales. It occurred to me it was the first time I’d seen him stop.

“Pay rise every month?” he said.

“Yup.”

“How does that work, then?”

It would have been a great moment if it hadn’t been for a nine year old in an oversized lifejacket suddenly wanting an ice cream that whistled. In fact, as the afternoon wore on, I realised that I was always going to be sabotaged by these young sailors.

But actually it worked out rather well. Because the great danger is in telling people too much. Do that and they can make a decision before they’ve seen the full picture presented to them proplerly. As it was he got little tasters in dribs and drabs: “So how do they save money? So every month you’ve got more poeple paying you? And it’s a sort of pyramid?”

I’ve grown to love that one: “Absolutely. It just grows and grows and you’ve no idea where it’s going to go. I’ve got people in Scotland and the West country – all over the place: All telling their friends about it and I don’t even know most of them!”

“Sounds amazing.”

So when we had loaded the diswasher for the  fiftieth time and stacked the trays and wiped the surfaces, it was not so very hard for me to say: “Tell you what. Doing what you do, talking to people, you could earn a pay rise every month too. Now I’m not saying it would suit you. It might be for you and it might not. But do you like to keep your business options open? Would you like me to give you something to look at?”

And he said he would. So then I asked him for his surname and his mobile number and once I had them written down, I carefully drew out one of our company DVDs and  handed it to him with some ceremony.

I just managed it before a 12 year old appeared at the door complaining that all his dry clothes were locked in my car…

There are some people who should not be behind a checkout.

I mean, they’re brilliant behind a checkout – they’re cheerful, they’re efficient… they make an extra effort to help. One way and another they’re a round peg in a round hole. It’s just that they’re wasted there. They’re worth so much more…

So it was with the man who sold me the batteries. For one thing he was far too old to be working behind a checkout – or at least, far too dignified. But he threw himself into the role as if he had got up in the morning with the sole purpose of demonstrating the dignity of work. Some people might consider it beneath them – you know the type: Talking to their friend at the next till, chewing gum and rolling their eyes when you fumble for change…

There was probably a time when this gentleman would have considered it beneath him. After all he had spent years climbing the corporate ladder. He had been a high-flyer. But now, in retirement things were different and I had no doubt that his “line manager” was someone no older than his grandchildren.

Yet there was no trace of resentment in the way he counted out my change – nothing but pride as  he painstakingly peeled off my carrier bag. Clearly if he was going to work behind a checkout, then he was going to make darned sure it was the best-run checkout he could make it.

So when I proffered my card and asked: “Do you take the exclusive Cashback card?” he gave it his full attention.

Which meant I was able to go on: “It’s brilliant. It’s saved us well over £900 so far.”

Naturally, he had to know how that worked – everybody does. And the next thing you know, I was writing down his phone number.

I phoned him in the evening and told him a bit about our club. It transpires that all his groceries come from Sainsburys – which just happens to be our major Cashback partner. He could save a fortune even without changing his shopping habits. I told him so.

So now I’m going to see him next week. But what was more interesting was the way the conversation developed from there: It turned out that he had worked all his life in the retail industry. When he retired he had been the area manager for a major chain of electrical stores. Yet here he was working as the lowest of the low one day a week   -  or two when they were short-staffed.

It was a serious temptation to ask him there and then whether he liked to keep his business options open… whether he would consider looking at a way of developing another income stream….

But something warned me that telling someone that you have a better way for them to make a living – especially when they are clearly so proud of the one they’ve got at the moment…  well maybe it might be the wrong tack to take.

So I’m looking forward to our appointment. Already I can feel that little thrill you when your prospect arrives at the obvious conclusion before you’ve even mentioned it … when their gaze clouds over and they’re thinking: “I could do this…”

I’ll let you know how it goes.

I knew I had the right house because they had a carved plaque with their name beside the door. But there was definitely no-one home.

Ever had that happen? You ring the number and you can hear it ringing inside?

I blamed myself. I hadn’t phoned before I left and said I was on my way- but then I only made the appointment the previous evening…

Still, there was nothing for it but go into the routine: Out came an armful of leaflets from the box in the back of the car and for ten minutes I went round the houses, all the while keeping an eye on the closed front door with the name beside it. Nobody arrived. There was nothing for it but to go home.

So what to do with the extra 50 minutes I had suddenly acquired? What would the successful distributor do?

So I drove past my front door and on down to the town car park. There I set myself  do half an hour of  “Win a Mini” – just hanging around the corner of the car park where everyone walks back and forth to the shops, saying to all the likely prospects: “Hello, I’ve got a prize draw. D’you wanna have a go? You could win a car!”

You see, the law of averages dictates that if you get a duff prospect who skips the appointment, it is only a matter of time before you get a good one who signs up and stays forever – providing, of course, you keep asking.

But I must say I honestly wasn’t prepared for what happened.

I pitched up at my corner, clutching my Win-a-Mini forms and found that I arrived at exactly the same time as a women on her way to the shops – so much at the same moment that I had to step aside. This meant it was only natural to say something – and so guess what I said…

What she said was: “All right, why not. I always like to win something.”

And off we went into the old routine.

The routine, at one point calls for me to mention some well-known high street stores. One of them is Sainsburys.

“Sainsburys!” she said. “I spend a fortune in Sainsburys!”

And now we have an appointment for Tuesday.

I don’t work on Saturdays – at least I don’t unless the opportunity is irresistable. But there I was at a car boot sale picking up a bike which wouldn’t fit in Tamsin’s car – and there really didn’t seem any point in not going round all the stalls with piggy cards.

I dished out about 20 and it took no more than five minutes – or at least it would have done but for one stallholder who said: “What’s this all about then?”

Now I didn’t really want to stop so I just said: “It’s about money. Have a look. Let me know what you like best.”

But no, he wasn’t having that: “Can’t you just tell me…”

With something like bad grace, I demanded: “Are you interested in money?”

“Always interested in money.”

“Saving it or making it?”

“Well, both.”

With something like a sigh of resignation, I went into the one minute explanation – which ends up with an invitation to the two minute explanation. But I really didn’t want to get into that – not on my day off…

But he insisted and as I prattled on, he looked at me more and more intently. Then he said: “It sounds brilliant.”

So now he’s got a DVD and we have an appointment for a phone call at 12 O’clock on Monday.

And I remembered this on Sunday when I was coaching a new distributor in what to say. She was having trouble getting the hang of it: “Don’t worry,” I told her. “Some people are going to join no matter what you say.”

I know I’m right – that’s how I joined.  I wonder if tomorrow will be another of those occasions.

The local agricultural college wants evidence of public liabillity insurance.

One of my teams is staging an event there and mine had lapsed – actually I let it lapse, reasoning that I could always renew it if I needed to. Well, that day has come and so I ended up talking to Andrew, a nice young man in the insurance call centre.

The quote was good but for form’s sake, I just wanted to check against another company. He was fine about this and gave me a reference number in case I wanted to come back.

As I always do, I complimented him on his telephone manner, hoped his company appreciated him and added: “Actually I’m always looking out for people with good communication skills. Tell me, would you be open to looking at ways of making extra money alongside your current occupation?”

As they always do, he said he would – and he’s going to look at the website tonight.

Then I phoned his competitor and spoke to Janine. Their quote was £10 a year more. But Janine was also open to looking at new ways of making money so she got the website address too.

Then I rang the original company back again, accepted their quote – but of course, now I was talking to Ben… and so he’s looking as well.

So tell me, how much extra time did that take out of my day?

Did I want to spend an evening of corporate go-karting, the voice on the phone wanted to know.

This was a cold call forwarded to a traffic jam on the A14 and with nothing better to do, I gave it some serious consideration. Actually it might be quite fun – I could get some of the team together, we could do some networking . It would tax-deductable…

And as always on these occasions, I said: “Thanks very much for ringing me. I appreciate a professional call – may I say how good you are on the phone. It’s a rare quality…. come to think of it, I’m always on the lookout of people who are good on the phone. I don’t suppose you’d be open to looking of new ways to make money?

Half an hour later, the following text arrived: “Thank you very much for your details. I am so glad that you feel I have  qualities to be an asset for a company. I am currently looking for another company where my services are more appreciated as I have various skills with the general public. I am very interested in what you have to offer.”

I’m meeting him for lunch tomorrow.

Which all goes to prove that all you have to do is ask…