The Day Off
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.