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Archive for the ‘save money’ Category

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.”

Was I the energy manager? Now there was a question. Think of the endless possibilities: What might an energy manager do? Lie on the sofa all day dictating how many laps of the garden the children should run before tea?  Catalogue the hours the teenager spends horizontal?

No. Apparently “the system” was showing that the energy contract for my company was about to expire and the lady on the other end of the line could offer me substantial savings.

Now, for one reason and another – and you’ll appreciate the reason if you know my business – this had to be a load of baloney. It would be amusing to humour her: “I’m sorry,” I said. “Can you tell me which energy company I’m with?”

She paused then. This didn’t seem to be on the script. There was some scuffling and a muttering about “accessing the information”.

But I took pity on her. Besides, it was clear she had an awful cold.

So instead of talking about my energy requirements, we talked about her cold – not so good when you have to talk on the phone all day. I sympathised. I said I thought she was really good at it.

And then, as if the thought had suddenly struck me: “Tell me, where are you speaking from.”

She was speaking from Manchester.

“Good Lord. That’s amazing. I’m just expanding my business in the Manchester area. Tell me, would you be open to looking at a way of making an extra income outside what you do in your regular job?”

“What, you mean like a part-time job?”

“That’s exactly what I mean.”

“Funny you should say that,” she said. “I had been looking for something to do part time. What do you do?”

“Well,” I said. “Let me put it like this. If I sign up to one of your energy contracts, do you get a bonus?”

“Yes.”

“And then do you get paid every time I turn on a light – every day – for years to come?”

“Well, no.”

“Would you like to?”

And now she’s looking at the website. The last thing she said to me was: “Isn’t that funny, you looking for someone part-time and me looking for part-time work?”

Yes, isn’t it!

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…

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.

He knew my name. He knew my wife’s name. He knew everything about us – and all I knew about him was that I had never seen him before – but then maybe he hadn’t been wearing a yellow day-glo running jacket last time.

Being somewhat embarrassed by my chronic inability to show enough interest in other people to remember their names (my wife’s diagnosis) I went along with the pantomime, nodding and smiling as we walked side by side along the river path – all the while hoping for some sort of clue. But then he rescued me by saying: “What’s all this Make Money – Save Money”?

Thank heavens for the badge.

“Ah, well,” I began, warming at once to the theme. “That’s my little part time thingy. It’s my major source of income now.”

And then, of course he asked what it was and so I had to tell him… and ask him if he was more interested in saving money or making money… and of course he said “both” and then I had to give him a DVD. But you know what the awful thing was? Because I didn’t like to admit I didn’t know his name, I couldn’t really ask for it. So now I have no way of getting back to him to find out what he liked best!

Never mind I did better with the man in the Mini. The Mini has been making peculiar clonking noises for some months and it seemed like a good idea to get it checked out before a wheel fell off. So I took it round to the BMW garage so that their troubleshooter could drive me round the block with his ear cocked. Yes, there was definitely a clonk, he concluded.

Then on the way back, he pulled up at some traffic lights. I looked out of the window. The woman in the next car was reading the stickers on the side. I knew she was reading because her lips were moving. I wound down the window but at that moment the lights changed.

“Too late,” I said. ” I was going to give her a card. Actually I was thinking of getting the stickers changed. On the new Minis they say: “Save 30% or more on your household bills”.

“Really,” said the troubleshooter. “How do you do that?”

So I had to tell him. But he didn’t think it would work for him: “I expect you have to have your own home.”

Apparently he was renting.

Was that from choice or because of the mortgage famine?

“And the deposit,” he said.

I nodded sympathetically: “Yes, I know what you mean. It’s criminal what they ask now… Tell you what. Maybe I could help: Would you be open to looking at ways of making an additional income alongside what you do already.”

And so he’s got a DVD too – and this time, I’ve got his number.

This sign on the door said: “No reps without an appointment”.

But I had already rung the bell. It never occurred to me that I might be considered a “rep”. I don’t think of myself as selling anything. I just show people how they can save money on what they’ve already bought. Is that the same thing?

I was still wondering about it when the door opened onto a lobby decorated with finger paintings. This was the nursery school in the “light industrial” complex next to the Golf Club where we  hold a training session once a month. Being a conscientious trainer, I always allow an extra hour for the journey and try and find something useful to do when I get there rather than using up the time at the other end. On this occasion I had set myself to go round to all the small businesses to see if they wanted to hear about increasing their profits.

Now all I could do was apologise and say: “I’m not sure if I’m a “rep”. What do you think?”

The young woman who answered the door had no idea. All she could do was call for the manager. This was probably for the best. She could go back to wiping little noses.

“Am I a rep?” I asked the manager.

“I don’t know,” she said. “What do you do?”

Ah well now, there’s a question which demands and answer: “Well I go round local businesses showing them how to increase their profits. It takes me one minute. D’you want to hear it?”

That’s the magic of one minute. Everyone says “yes” – and so did she.

And of course after one minute she wanted to know more and after three minutes, she was giving me the name of the owner and after five we had established that she was open to looking at ways of making money and I had her mobile phone number.

And I still didn’t know whether I was a “rep”.  Never mind, there was someone else I could ask. I walked round the corner and into some sort of electronics company – so modern that they didn’t even have a receptionist; just a phone with a notice above it telling visitors which extension to ring. I rang.

“Hello,” I said brightly when a slightly distracted voice answered. “Are you the proprietor?” People love being asked this as if being mistaken for the proprietor somehow confers some sort of distinction on the lowliest of underlings. He bustled off to find the proprietor.

The proprietor arrived. He had left a customer on the shop floor, he said – and yet he had found the time to meet someone he’d never heard of who had come to show him how to increase his profits – interesting, that…

Well, since I said it would only take a minute, we sat down in the lobby and I told him what we had. Now we have an arrangement that next time I’m up there I’ll go in and collect copies of his bills.

And all I did was ask!

Did you ever hear of the drug dealer who advertised his wares on Friends Reunited? He  didn’t know that one of his old classmates grew up to be a policeman…

So I’m trusting you not to shop me to the council when I tell you that the man in the next car offered me his car park ticket with two hours unexpired. The least I could do was offer him a Piggy card in return.

“What’s this,” he asked – and so I started to tell him. But I hadn’t got too far when he said: “Oh I used to be with you. I had one of your pigs…”

And for all those years he never realised he could make money at it. So now he’s looking at the website and it was only later that I started kicking myself for not signing him up there and then.

But I did need to get to school to pick up my youngest. There was a woman  in the playground wearing a T-shirt with a mobile phone number on the back. So while I was waiting I wrote it down and later on sent this text:  “Please excuse the informal approach. I’ve just seen you details on a T-shirt in the primary school playground. Are you open-minded enough to look at additional ways of making a profit. If “yes” when would be a good time to call for a chat?

Best regards,

John Passmore, local business owner.”

Half an hour later I received this back: “Hi, sounds good to me. What sort of thing do you do? Will be about to talk after 7. Lee”

Well I couldn’t ring him at 7.00 because at the time I had parked outside the church hall where my eldest son does his drama class and while we waited for the doors to open, a man walked up, looked at the writing on the car and said: “What’s this?”

So I had to get out and tell him. This turned out to be hard work because he hardly spoke any English. He was from Romania and worked as a decorator. He was also very keen on saving money.

“Are you serious about saving money?” I asked him.

“Very serious, yes.” he said gravely.

So I signed him up on the back of the car – which,  I suppose, made up for the one I missed earlier.

Then it was after seven O’clock and I rang Lee. His wife is having a baby and so he wants to wait a while before becoming a distributor but I do have an appointment to go and sign him up for the services tomorrow night.

That’s if I’m not in jail over the non-transferrable parking ticket.

Now I know why they give us Minis. This is because they’re made by BMW and the BMW garage is quite an experience. Not only do they wash your car every time but they send you home in a taxi – and then send another one to pick you up. Also, the taxi drivers rightly assume that anyone with their car in a BMW main dealership is doing pretty well.

This is why I have been writing about taxi drivers so much – that and the fact that the garage can’t figure out why the engine warning light keeps coming on.

Anyway there I was with the latest taxi driver and this is how the conversation went:

Me: “Is this full time for you – driving?”

Driver: “Yup, I used to be a brickie but I had a heart attack.”

“I expect this is less stressful – that’s good isn’t it?”

“Less stressful but it’s 80 hours a week.”

“Good heavens”

… this went on for some time until eventually I said: “I ought to tell you about what I do.”

“What’s that then?”

“Well I’ve got my own business. I work with this discount club. They’re listed on the London Stock Exchange but they don’t advertise. It’s all done by word of mouth. What they do is shrink the bills for all their members. New members joining now find their bills shrink by around 30% after the second month and then go on shrinking to about half their usual size within a year.

“Also it’s very easy to recommend this club by word of mouth because they come topl in the reviews in Which? Magazine. Would you like to know how they do it?”

“How?”

“Well the thing about the club is that it’s rather exclusive – you can only join it if you’re invited by someone who’s in it – and we only invite people who we think are going to pay the bills. Now, do you think that makes our members rather special? Do you think that big shops like Mothercare and Boots and Debenhams and Sainsburys would like to see those sorts of people coming through their doors – the sort who see something on a shelf and say: ‘I like that. I’m going to buy it. I can afford it.’

“Too right they would – and the shops are prepared to pay for to get them in. They pay 5% of what the member spends and they send that to the discount club – who knock it off the member’s bill.”

I had his attention by this time. I went on: “Now the arithmetic is rather clever. Let’s take the average family. For  their shopping and petrol, their clothes, their sports goods, their DIY, what do you suppose they spend:  £!,000 a month? Yes, at least. And the same family paying their utility bills – what, £150 a month?

“Well 5% of £1,000 is £50, right?  And £50 deducted from a £150 utility bill is 30%, right? So that’s how their bill shrinks by 30% every month. That’s 30% off their electricity, 30% off their gas – 30% off their phones and so on. For some people, the discount is bigger than their bill so they don’t pay anthing at all!”

The driver was nodding by this time. He was saying quietly:”Amazing!”

I continued, matter-of-factly: “Now the really clever thing is this: What would happen if British Gas or BT or Vodafone reduced their prices by 30%? How long do you think they could stay in business? But our 30% doesn’t come out of the company coffers. It comes from Debenhams and Argos and Mothercare and Sainsburys and the rest.

“And do you think that if our members are getting that much off their bills every month they’re going to0 tell anyone – that’s right, of course they are! In fact they’re encouraged to tell their friends. Typically, if they tell ten friends they get another 20% off – now they’ve got 50% off! So they pay only half their electricity bill every month – half their gas bill…”

As always seems to happen, he was driving more and more slowly. By the time we reached the garage, I’d told him a bit about the money and now he’s got a DVD and we’ll talk again on Monday.

The only bad news is that I think they’ve fixed the car…

The taxi was going slower and slower. If I didn’t know better, I’d have thought the driver was trying to boost his earnings – well he was, in a way…

I’ve no idea whether it was the same driver I wrote about some while ago in “A tale of two taxis” but this driver said that yes, I had told him what I do. I took it as a cue to change the subject but after a moment or two he returned to it: “Is about saving money, yes?” He was Turkish and the conversation was somewhat stilted.

So all the way home we talked about saving the average new member 20% – 30% on their household bills to begin with and then pushing this up to 40% – 50% and how we did it – and how he could get paid a percentage of those people’s bills every month forever. When we reached my front door he just sat there. “Is possible for me – get money every month?”

“Yes, is possible,” I told him. “Tell you what. Have you got 20 minutes? If you’d like to come in I’ll show you.”

So he did. I’d like to be able to say he joined there and then. But he insists he wants to run it by a friend of his – a very successful entrepreneur who owns several businesses. At this point my ears pricked up: Taxi drivers might make good distributors but they’re nothing compared with successful entrepreneurs.

And since the last thing you want is an untrained wannabe presenting the business to someone like that, the plan is that he’s going to get me together with this friend. We’ll see – and I’ll keep you posted.

I seem to collect old ladies. They tend to fret a lot – particularly Mrs K: Her husband used to deal with all the paperwork and it flummoxes her.

But the funny thing is that every time I go round there, grumbling to myself but feeling altogether terribly noble, something good happens.

Look at today: There was an electrician’s van in the drive opposite – with an electrician in the driving seat. He seemed to have called at an empty house and had nothing to do but wait – and listen to what I had to tell him, of course.

And then, as I started down Mrs K’s garden path, her neighbour came home. So I had to say: “Ah, you must be Mrs K’s neighbour. I need to come and talk to you. She’d a member of our discount club. You could save a lot of money too, you know.”

So we arranged that I would pop in and see him after I’d seen her. The only trouble was that I was in there for a full half an hour drinking tea and getting her payments reduced and then of course I had to show her how she could shrink her bills even more with our Cashback card … and then I had to give her a stack of cards to give to her friends and explain how she would get an extra discount when they joined. She became quite excited about it all.

And then, when I left I made to cross over to the neighbour’s front door. She pointed firmly down the path. “Oh no,” I explained. I was calling on the neighbour because he wanted to shrink his bills as well.

“You can’t do that!” she said. “He’s mine.”

And then – I can’t really believe this but I retorted: “I saw him first!”

Oh dear, oh dear. This could get very ugly.

But the neighbour is a builder and a property developer so I think he’ll become a distributor anyway – at least I hope so. I have a nasty feeling that Mrs K would be vicious in hand-to-hand combat.