The other day I misplaced my keys (again) and lost my shit. I hadn’t lost my temper in a long time, so it was a strange and debilitating feeling. I had the most awful temper when I was younger, and I knew that if I never got it under control it would destroy me.
Because we are justifying machines, I found a great but stupid reason for my volatility: my bloodline. I have Spanish, French and Arab coursing through my veins. It was a cute and convenient excuse for my ‘passionate’ disposition.
But it wasn’t cute at all, it was sad. Luckily, I learned early on in my life that whenever I flew off the handle I looked like a two-year-old child who had no control of his emotions.
You know the one I’m talking about, don’t you? You’ve probably experienced temper tantrums and attention-seeking from a two-year-old, possibly your own? Feeling embarrassed when people look at you and judge you, saying “Control your child.” At that moment you (and everyone else) wished that you’d taken birth control.
When we see an adult behaving like a two-year-old, it’s always uncomfortable for everyone involved, isn’t it?
Of course, you’re smart enough to know that sometimes we behave like that two-year-old. And, more often, than we’d care to admit.
And, nobody wants a two-year-old messing up their vibe.
So, what’s the trick to dealing with your two-year-old self? I find that becoming an observer works for me. Going from unconscious to conscious. Hmm, I see my child is becoming problematic and making everyone feel uncomfortable. Let me remove him from this situation. He’s not in control, I am. He needs to learn to behave appropriately.
Don’t let the tail wag the dog. You’re the adult, act like it and train your child how to behave appropriately.
One of our biggest drivers is to feel safe and secure.
I remember a story by my teacher, Shaykh Ebrahim Schuitema, that completely changed my understanding of security.
He spoke about owning a house which is one of the cornerstones of feeling secure in our perception.
He asked me to imagine that vandals would come to my house and trash it. When I come home from work and see the damage they’ve done, I’m appalled and upset.
I spring into action to make sure that this doesn’t happen again and that I protect my home. I sign up with my neighbourhood protection service, get an alarm and an electrified fence. And, for good measure, I bought an attack dog.
He then asked me to imagine that I’m walking in the street and getting mugged. I put up a fight and got soundly beaten up. I limp home battered and bedraggled. As I enter my home, does my house say to me, “Good grief, Jacques, what happened?” “How can I help you?” “I’m going to hunt down those muggers?”
Of course the house doesn’t say anything. In fact, if someone murdered me and slept in my bed, the house wouldn’t give two hoots.
Who is protecting whom?
We live in an impermanent world. Nothing is secure and everything can be taken away from us in a heartbeat. No marriage is completely secure. No job is secure. Health is never guaranteed. Possessions aren’t secure.
From one perspective, this is a depressing thought. From another perspective, this is liberating.
Don’t take anything for granted. Live each second as if it’s your last. Appreciate every moment. Be grateful, generous, and kind.
I feel that the Buddhists have it right when they talk about non-attachment. Attaching to anything makes one feel less secure, that’s for sure.
I’ve been writing email newsletters for 10 years or so and sending them to a small database of loyal fans.
I have a love/hate relationship with my newsletter. Producing a newsletter can be hugely satisfying and famously frustrating.
What’s the point of a newsletter?
To add value to your subscribers and give them useful information on your subject speciality.
To build credibility and trust as an expert in your field.
To sell them your offering.
What does it take to produce a newsletter?
Hard work and time. You have to write the cornerstone essay. Find the right photo to portray the key message. Craft your secondary message with care. In my case, I look for two to four eccentric and interesting videos from YouTube to add in (you have to write a small explanation to ‘sell’ the video). And, then, because you need to pay the bills, you put your offer in, normally at the end of the newsletter. This is the place where sales go to die because based on my stats, my readers lose steam halfway through the newsletter, and never get to my offer. That’s what I tell myself, anyway. I wouldn’t want to believe that my marketing messages are as awkward as a teenager struggling to undo a bra strap: inefficient, painful, and embarrassing, resulting in disappointment and dissatisfaction for both parties.
What’s the reality?
The reality is that producing a newsletter is time-consuming (if you do it properly and with a modicum of pride) and it can be soul-sucking. Why? Because 3/4 of your database doesn’t open your newsletter. Hardly anyone bothers to respond. Sometimes, the only way I know that the newsletter went out is that I get a couple of ‘out of office’ responses. Every now and again, I get a one-liner, saying, “That was a good article, I needed that today.” And, because I have a sanguine temperament, and I need oodles of validation, I jump on that email like a drowning sailor on a life raft and profusely thank the person for sending me the compliment. It’s sad and an illness, I know.
You can imagine how I overdosed on dopamine when professional speaker, Billy Selekane said, “Jacques is the Charles Dickens of our age.” That kept me going for a while. But, when Deborah du Plooy said, “Your scribing is orgasmic kla. Errrr buddy, please work on my obituary,” I lost all my marbles as the dopamine, norepinephrine, serotonin, oxytocin combined into the perfect-storm of validation.
Besides validation, the actual point of the newsletter is to build trust and credibility with your audience so that every so often, they’ll buy something. I can only live on compliments for so long before I have to eat.
And, let’s just put it out there. If you’re a business owner the only reason you write newsletters, build those excruciating and infuriating websites and hang out on the vacuous and vapid social media is to make sales, isn’t it? We’re all playing that game, aren’t we? If it were up to me, I’d rather be a trust fund baby, catching bass, drinking whiskey, playing chess and getting up to mischief in Italy. Is that just me, or would you also be doing something else if you had more money than you knew what to do with?
So, regarding ROT (Return on Time, and making money), is writing a newsletter worth it?
I’d have to say no, if that’s your primary motivation.
If I took the four hours a week spent producing a newsletter and posting and sharing it over a year, that’s 200+ hours. I promise you, if I spent 200 hours on the phone prospecting for business, I’d make a ton more money. But, because I like validation and not rejection, I take the chicken way out and write newsletters.
What’s Happening Here?
I contacted my friend Tobias at TouchBasePro, the system I use to send my newsletters. I showed him the statistics for my latest newsletter.
Horrifying I thought.
He said, not really. Most newsletters email stats are worse. Yay, misery loves company.
He sent me this.
If your email newsletter statistics are similar, you’re in good company.
Should You Quit Sending Out Newsletters?
Definitely not. Just change your focus.
Blog a book. Every cornerstone article I write is intentionally written with a book in mind. I’ve been sending out newsletters sporadically since my last book in 2019.
Let’s do the maths.
My average article is 300 words long. 2019 to 2023 is a span of four years.
I generally put out one newsletter a week, which equals 52 weeks.
300 x 52 x 4 = 62 400 words. Well, that’s enough for a book (my last one hit the 62 000 word mark).
Let’s take out 25% for exaggeration (because I need so much praise and validation), it’s still a handy 46 000 or so word book. If I’m lazy, I can live with that and produce a book. And, some people call themselves authors with 5000 words from their pen, so I’m sure I can get away with it.
Your newsletter is your gym where you can test out your work.
Sometimes I get more than one compliment from an article I wrote. Then I know that article landed in the mind and heart of my reader.
I of course also send all my work out to LinkedIn and Facebook, and the articles that work get great response (likes and comments). When I publish my book, I front load it with all the ‘winners’ and the ones that haven’t made the grade go in the latter half of the book. Although, weirdly, the articles I think are winners, and the ones I’ve really loved writing, often don’t get a vote.
Not everything I say is true
I actually do make money out of my newsletter in a roundabout way. Sometimes my writing is passable, and some people hire me because of it. I mostly write about philosophy, spirituality and sometimes mindset and marketing, but I sell writing services. This is a bit of a disconnect (as my good friend, branding authority, Dawn Klatzko says, “Brand confusion”). I remember when I tried to make my cat Gloria part of my brand, I called her. I can just imagine her rolling her eyes and shaking her head, saying “Oy vey.”
Thankfully I scrapped that idea.
Ultimately, I’m not negative about producing newsletters. They keep me out of mischief. As you know, nature abhors a vacuum, and I’d probably be wasting the four hours a week on something else, like hanging about coffee shops with my mates. That’s a sure-fire way not to make money.
Goodbye. Before I go, I leave you with this:
Having a substantial subscriber base of 5000+ can make you money through newsletters. My piddly 600 is not going to cut it. Most of them are friends too, so that’s not a great money-making strategy.
Transform your newsletters into an incredibly effective tool for blogging your book. This is the smartest sentence in this entire article.
I’m going to go all Don Miguel Ruiz (The Four Agreements) on you, “Don’t take anything personally.” When it comes to newsletters and most things in life, you and I are a nanosecond of attention in most people’s lives. They have better things to do than worry about your and my newsletters, that’s for sure.
But if you can add up the nanoseconds over time, maybe your words do make a difference. You may not always (or never) see it in your pay cheque, but know that you have touched someone’s heart, albeit for a short while, and that my friend, makes all the difference.
The sales profession is one of the toughest on the planet. Not because it’s inherently difficult, but because it triggers every foible in the human psyche.
If you’ve ever felt any of these, you’re in the sales profession:
Rejection. The prospect didn’t buy. He doesn’t like me. Just like my father didn’t like me. Nobody likes me. I’m worthless. Daddy, why don’t you love me? I don’t matter.
Imposter syndrome. I closed a big deal. I was just lucky. If he knew the real me he wouldn’t have bought. I’m not good enough. If anyone knew me, they would know I’m a fraud.
Frustration. Another deal lost despite my best efforts. Why are they taking so long to make a decision? Just sign the fucking order.
Despondency. I didn’t hit my target again. I hate seeing my name last on the leaderboard, again. What a loser. Am I going to get fired?
Depression. I can’t deal with another setback. I wonder how many sick days I have left? Am I going to get fired?
Disillusionment. Nobody keeps their word. Humans suck. I suck. My life sucks.
Disgust. I had to exaggerate the features. I didn’t highlight that particular T&C. I don’t really think our product can do that, but it will probably never be put to the test, so we can get away with it. Good grief, I’m a liar. What else do I lie about? I’m a terrible person.
Shame. I couldn’t take the kids camping like I promised because I didn’t get commission this month. We had to go to Wimpy again for our date night. I’m a deadbeat parent and partner.
Perhaps you’re lucky enough to never have felt any of the above. I can’t say I’ve had that luxury.
If misery loves company, then take heart that almost every human being goes through these experiences at some stage or another.
Here’s What Weakens You and Me
These experiences typically come from our expectations of others. And, in the sales profession, it’s highlighted 1000-fold because we always want something from the other. If we’re a sales leader, we want our team to perform. If we’re a sales person, we want our prospects to buy. And, as a human being, we demand validation from others.
This is problematic because it always leaves us feeling weak, disillusioned and disappointed because it seldom turns out how we want it to.
Whenever we want something from another, we put ourselves in a position of weakness. The other can withhold what we want (an order, a promotion, a raise). That puts the other in a position of power. The who can withhold is the one with the power. In sales, prospects and customers always have the power. In work, your boss always has the power (to withhold or give that promotion or raise).
Petty Tyrants
This brings me to the concept of the petty tyrant which first appeared in Carlos Castaneda’s book, The Fire From Within.
He says, “A petty tyrant is a tormentor. Someone who either holds the power of life and death over warriors or simply annoys them to distraction.”
“We know that nothing can temper the spirit of a warrior as much as the challenge of dealing with impossible people in positions of power. Only under those conditions can warriors acquire the sobriety and serenity to stand the pressure of the unknowable.”
I think that petty tyrants are marvellous creatures because without them, we’d never grow as human beings, would we?
And, the sales profession is the best gymnasium in the world to test our mettle in this regard. Petty tyrants (customers, prospects and colleagues) are our gym instructors and drill sergeants. They challenge our comfort zone and test our adaptability and resilience.
Petty tyrants can be seen as a source of frustration and torment, or as a catalyst for personal growth. If you see the former, you’re a victim, not a warrior. In the sales profession, you always want to be a warrior. Of course, you always have choice: do you react as a victim or respond as a warrior?
Castaneda wrote, “The warrior who stumbles on a petty tyrant is a lucky one. If you don’t come upon one in your path, you have to go out and look for one.”
In my experience, the quicker you can find your tormentor, the sooner you toughen up so that you can deal with what life throws at you. As a sales professional, you know that it throws a lot of shit at you, don’t you?
In sales, it’s easy to find petty tyrants. They are referred to as prospects and customers.
If you’re a sales manager, they’re called your team.
Petty tyrants serve as valuable opportunities for growth.
Adaptability. A petty tyrant in sales might be a difficult customer who questions your product’s value or a market trend that threatens your usual sales approach. Instead of resisting change, successful sales professionals adapt their strategies to meet these challenges head-on, ultimately becoming more versatile and resourceful.
Resilience. In the world of sales, facing rejection is a common occurrence. Every rejection can make us feel defeated, but Castaneda’s idea reminds us that these moments are actually opportunities for us to strengthen our emotional resilience. The ability to bounce back and maintain a positive attitude in the face of adversity is a hallmark of successful salespeople.
Continuous Improvement. Sales professionals can use setbacks as opportunities for improvement. Each challenge provides insights into what can be done better, whether it’s refining sales techniques or enhancing product knowledge.
Empathy. Petty tyrants in the form of demanding prospects and customers can teach salespeople to develop greater empathy. Understanding a customer’s pain points and addressing their concerns effectively can turn a challenging situation into a win-win scenario.
The Endeavour of Selling is a Hero’s Journey
A career in sales is a metaphor for life. You can live an average life. Or you can heed the call of adventure and heroically try to make your mark on this world. You’re going to need guidance on this journey, so find mentors that can help take you over the finish line.
You’re going to have a shit ton of challenges, disappointment, and disillusionment. You’re going to get stuffed up, and stuff it up more times than you care to remember. But you get up every time and keep swinging for the bleachers. It’s not in your nature to give up, but to prevail.
But, there’ll come a time when you’ll want to give it up. A time when you see no hope. This is called the dark night of the soul.
Any sales professional worth his or her salt has to go through this. If you’ve never been through it, you’re just not playing this sales game hard enough.
And, you do know that you get out of the hole, don’t you? If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be reading this piece of text now, would you? You’re still in the game, fighting every inch of the way, aren’t you?
Finally, after all your effort you get the reward you deserve. Of course, it does not always come packaged the way you wanted, hence disillusionment and disappointment.
However, if you believe that there’s a greater ingenuity than your own running the show, as I do, then the reward might come in a form that’s way better than you expected for yourself.
Then, as a benevolent and mature human, you take the reward and the lessons learned from the experience, and you share it with your tribe so that they too can benefit. So that they too can deal with their petty tyrants.
Make Art and Have Fun
Finally, have some fun. As Castaneda said, “The idea of using a petty tyrant is not only for perfecting the warrior’s spirit, but also for enjoyment and happiness.”
Like you, I’m an artist, and the joy is in the creating of the art. Crafting a sales pitch, presenting it and using every ounce of skill to convince someone to buy what I have to sell, is joy for me. This makes me happy. Whether my work lands with the prospect or not, it matters not.
That’s not entirely true, of course; I do need to make a living, after all. As a business owner and sales professional, all I know is that if I fail a lot, I’ll succeed a little. And, that little gives me a life I can be proud of.
Don’t take yourself too seriously; remember sales can be fun as long as you don’t react like a victim but respond as a warrior.
If you’re at a crossroads in your sales career (or life for that matter), reframe it as a positive experience. Because it really is … the right and wrong, the good and bad. It’s called being a human.
So, if you’re a sales professional, give it a real go and embrace those petty tyrants. They’re not doing things to you, but rather for you. They’re the steel that sharpens steel.
Let’s do this thing together, you and I. Let’s give it a go. Well probably fuck it up. But let’s have fun while doing it.
Because, as you probably understand by now, in sales at least, the more we fail at this endeavour, the more we succeed at it.
If you’re on LinkedIn you’ve probably already seen the green ‘Open to Work’ (OTW) caption underneath a profile photo.
If you own your own business and choose to put the OTW caption on your photo, that’s your prerogative. I wouldn’t because to me, it looks a bit clingy and desperate. By marketing on LinkedIn, you imply that you’re open for work, don’t you?
But, I’m not talking about you.
I’m more curious about the motivation and intent of those who are currently employed and have the OTW caption on their photo.
What’s with that?
You might not be that smart.
Or you might be negligent and haven’t checked your profile since 2020. LinkedIn introduced the “Open to Work” feature amidst the Covid-19 pandemic with the aim of providing assistance to individuals.
Or maybe you just don’t realise how disrespectful this is towards your current employer.
You’re Not That Smart
If you employed someone and found out that they had their CV out looking for another job, how’d you feel? By putting OTW on your profile is the same thing. Let’s forget about the OTW. Even if you don’t have OTW, but your profile looks like a CV, and is not punting the company that feeds you, then you’re not that smart either.
If you’re going to look for another job, be a bit more discreet about it. Your employer would probably be upset if they knew you were openly searching for another job, since they are providing for you. They might also think that you’re not very intelligent because you don’t seem to realise the potential consequences. And, then, start wondering why they hired you in the first place.
It’s like having a Tinder profile that’s still active after you’ve found your partner. Staying open to other possibilities is discourteous, and frankly, it’s cheating.
I remember when I was in advertising and a bunch of us had come back to the office from a boozy lunch, my boss called us in. He said something like this, “Next time you go for lunch don’t drink vodka, drink beer. “I’d rather that the client thinks that you’re drunk and not stupid.” Apparently, Vodka leaves the least odour on one’s breath. .
You’re Negligent
This may be an unfair statement because LinkedIn may not be part of your branding or sales acquisition strategy. Or you’re on LinkedIn but not on LinkedIn because you put up a profile right at the beginning, and never went back.
But, if you are using LinkedIn to attract business, at least be courteous enough to the person you’re selling to, by putting up something worthwhile. This means writing a profile that resonates with your potential clients, engaging with insights i.e. posting articles regularly and connecting with the right people.
You’re Totally Unaware
Here I’m going to let you off the hook. Having a shoddy LinkedIn profile might not be your fault. Because when you work for a company, it shouldn’t be up to you. Your marketing department takes the rap for this. It should have identified that there is an opportunity to turn every employee on LinkedIn into a brand ambassador.
In your company’s induction programme (if you have one of those), there should be a section on branding and marketing (and social media etiquette). You are after all a brand ambassador for your company, aren’t you?
The marketing department should give you the company branding and message to put on your banner. It should also give you a profile that pushes the company line. And, it should leave some space for you to show your personality.
This is not what your banner should look like. This is a prime location for marketing purposes. Use it to get your brand and message across.
As part of your KPIs, it might be an idea for you to be encouraged to connect with your company’s ideal client. LinkedIn allows you to connect with 400 people a month (20 a day).
Every time the marketing department writes an article, it should pass it onto you so that you can post it (that speaks to engaging with insights). At the least, there should be four articles or posts a month. One a day is better, but probably a Grail quest. You can, of course, use your initiative and share posts from other sources that are valuable to your target market.
Let’s Do The Maths
Imagine that you have 50 employees that are on LinkedIn.
That’s a golden chance to create 50 branding opportunities.
That’s 50 profiles with a single marketing message punting your company.
On average, only 20 percent of folks will accept your connection request. Out of 20 that would be four. Out of 400, that would be 80. If we multiply 80 by 50, we can estimate a total of 4000 connections every month. That’s a staggering 48,000 connections made every year.
If each of you is sending out four articles per month (48) and they reach your ideal clients, what would that mean for your business?
If you had a connection to contact system where you could bring your sales team in to reach out to those who have met the lead scoring criteria. For example, if you have six interactions with your ideal client, that could indicate that it is time that a sales person reached out. How much more business do your efforts could generate for your company?
Go have a look at your profile. If you’re using it as a CV whilst working for another company … well, that’s just not cool (Remember Tinder). Ask your marketing department to help you set up your LinkedIn profile properly.
My PTSD crawled out of what I thought was my impregnable hurt locker the other day. It was the silliest thing that triggered it. It was the word ‘ambush’ that I used in marketing copy for Hamilton Wende’s Frontline Afghanistan story for the Salon we hosted the other day.
A quote by Frida Kahlo made me realise, I cannot run from this thing that eats me, I need to deal with it: “I tried to drown my sorrows, but the bastards learned how to swim.”
1984, somewhere in Namibia (formerly, South West Africa)
The unmistakable cloyingly sweet smell of fear oozed out of my pores, mixing with the dirt, grime and sweat; a consequence of being unwashed for 15 days.
All 10 of us stank of fear as we lay flat on the ground in our ambush, our rifles aimed at the kill zone.
Contact and probably death was imminent. >>>
At that moment, a romanticised notion popped into my head. Death and fear smell the same. It’s the smell of soul. In death, when the soul is released to go home it’s sweet. When we anticipate death, it’s not fear, but excitement that we feel because the soul finally gets to go home.
No matter how I try and romanticise fear and death, it’s an unpleasant smell for me, probably because I’ve experienced too much of both.
>>> The footfalls on the barely discernible path are close, too close. My finger tightens on the trigger, my eyes squint and my breathing slows.
They appear. Two souls. Time stands still. My brain registers something out of place, and my heart stops.
A wizened, weather-beaten old man, holding the hand of a young girl-child wearing a ragged faded yellow dress, came into my sights.
The 10 of us connected to a Hive Mind that has been forged from being together for 17 months, acted as one. Ten fingers removed themselves from their triggers.
Our haunted eyes welled with tears and our hearts wept with relief. No one died today.
The old man, a grandfather of the young child as it turned out, looked at us, his smile beaming from ear-to-ear. He said, “Welcome. We saw you come here, and we thought that you might be hungry and thirsty. We brought you food and water.”
It was more than I could bear, and it still haunts me today.
In the border war (SWA/Angola – 1966 – 1989) around 20 000 civilians and soldiers from South Africa, SWAPO, ANC, Angola, Cuba and Russia died. Countless others were injured.
The survivors sit amongst you (some may even be reading this). You’ll know them: they’re your fathers, husbands and grandfathers. They’re anywhere from 55 upwards. But they’re all going on 100, haunted, lost and traumatised.
Be kind to them because they can never be kind to themselves.
Vince Lombardi said, “Winners Never Quit & Quitters Never Win.” I’m going to argue that this is a dangerous sentiment, and ultimately false. I’m also going to argue that courage is ultimately more important than bravery.
Some of you may know that I was conscripted into the infantry in 1982, like thousands of white South Africans. I spent 17 months in Namibia (previously South West Africa).
As a soldier in a war zone, I was tested and had many opportunities to be brave. The scariest moment during this challenging time that almost drove me crazy was when I had to chase a Wind Scorpion out of my trench. Neither of us was hurt.
I don’t want to talk about my banal and benign military experience, but rather about two people. One was a genuine soldier. The other, a conscientious objector.
They show the difference between bravery (staying the course) and courage (quitting).
The soldier was involved in a lot of conflict, and had many opportunities to display his bravery. He has the medals to prove it.
The soldier and I had a chat one day and the conscientious objector, who is known to us both, came up. The soldier admired the conscientious objector’s courage in standing up for his beliefs. He said, “I wish I had his courage.”
That’s when it occurred to me. Being brave in a war is comparatively easier than having the courage to speak against something you find abhorrent.
What situation are you in now that you need to say “no” to and that you need to quit? I’ve no doubt that whatever path you’re on, it takes bravery to stay the course: A dead-end job. A loveless relationship. A soulless existence. A business that’s never going to fly. To quit these for something better takes courage, that’s for sure. It takes courage to play bigger than you are now. It takes courage to bring your gifts to the world. It takes courage to admit defeat.
And, most of all, it takes courage to know when to quit.
If I think about my own situation: I used to stay in untenable situations because it served me. I could play the victim so that I could get sympathy and attention. Quite pathetic, if I think about it now.
I didn’t have to take responsibility because the ‘world was doing this to me’. It was only when I realised that the world doesn’t give a shit about my feelings one way or another, and that I was doing it to myself, that I decided to change.
It was Carlos Castaneda that gave me the nudge that changed my life:
“All paths are the same: they lead nowhere. … Does this path have a heart? If it does, the path is good; if it doesn’t, it is of no use. A path is only a path, and there is no affront, to oneself or to others, in dropping it if that is what your heart tells you. . . Look at every path closely and deliberately. Try it as many times as you think necessary. Then ask yourself, alone, one question. . . Does this path have a heart? If it does, the path is good; if it doesn’t, it is of no use.”
Someone once told the composer Morton Feldman that he should write for the “man in the street”. Feldman went over to the window, and who did he see? Jackson Pollock.
When writing your blog posts, write about things that interest you. When you write like this, you find your tribe. What you find fascinating, they’ll find fascinating.
What should you write about to find your tribe?
Ask yourself: What would make you jump up with joy if you read it now? What would move your heart and stimulate your intellect? If you find something that makes you ecstatic, this is what you should write.
You will write text that almost no one likes. Fortunately, almost no one is multiplied by the entire population of the internet is plenty if you can only find them.
Don’t pander to search engines to try and get your website rankings up. Don’t dumb your work down. The people you write for you aren’t stupid. Treat them with respect and write your best work. Write in as much vivid detail and beauty as you can, because that’s what you’d like. And, that’s what they’d like.
That’s how you find your people. That’s how you build an enterprise that fuels the life you want.
I got the idea for this article from one of my favourite writers, Austin Kleon.
If you’re a professional speaker, don’t be stupid like me. Don’t connect with other professional speakers on LinkedIn.
I was scratching through my LinkedIn profile and got really excited because I saw that I had 9600 connections.
My excitement waned when I realised out of the stupid marketing mistakes I have made in the last 20 years, having so many connections, is right there in the top five of stupidity. And, believe me, I’ve done some really stupid things.
It would have been OK if they were the right connections. I.e. my ideal client. In my case, sales managers and sales directors.
It depends on which self-professed LinkedIn expert you speak to: only 15% – 5% of your first connections see your posts.
So, at 5% (which I’m more inclined to believe since my average post only gets 200 – 300 impressions) I would reach 480 connections.
That would be great if they were all my ideal client profile: sales leaders.
But here’s what this thing looks like:
868 professional speakers. I love speakers, but they’re not my market. And, they do try. They like, high five, and comment on each other’s posts. Not mine so much. (´-ι_-｀) Except for the brief dopamine hit, it’s not worth it. Another speaker is never going to get me a professional speaking engagement. The ones that do, and there are two of them, I have on my phone. We call each other.
1 600 coaches. Seriously, what was I thinking?
24 plumbers and electricians. Ke?
7 Wellness retreats, one called Chi Chi. Oy gevalt.
1400 managing directors. That was looking better, until I went through a sample. Ninety percent of them are one-man/woman bands. Fooi tog, I didn’t know you could be a managing director of one person? ¯\(º_o)/¯
287 personal assistants.
2700 sales leaders ٩( θ‿θ )۶ That’s a start, or is it?*
* Many people who are on LinkedIn are not on LinkedIn. Yes, they have profiles, but they’re not active.
So, what to do?
I don’t know, do I look like a LinkedIn expert? I’m as confused as the next person (⊙_◎).
You can ask a smart guy like Scott Cundill who is one of the few people I know who really knows his way around LinkedIn. The one thing that he said that stuck with me: “Don’t put crap in the app.”
If you want to connect with other speakers, do it on Facebook. Who cares about Facebook – a place where any original thought goes to die? For most of us, our ideal customer does not reside there.
I hope my therapist is right when she says size doesn’t count, quality and technique do.
⊙﹏⊙ Well, it’s true for LinkedIn, I’m sure. Rather have a smaller 1st connection base that is full of your ideal clients, than a big one that is full of (☞^o^)☞ well professional speakers, plumbers, electricians, coaches, and ‘managing directors’.
If connections don’t serve your agenda, perhaps it might be an idea to start disconnecting from them. But, do it slowly, like maybe five a day. We don’t want LI to think you’re a bot and put you in jail.
Some wisdom is timeless. If I read this quote today, I’d think it was written for our times: “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of light, it was the season of darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair.” Charles Dickens – A Tale of Two Cities
He left out serendipity and happenstance.
A couple of weeks ago, I received a WhatsApp from someone I didn’t know. “Hello Jacques, how are you? Do you still work at “whatever” restaurant?”
“I’m looking for an executive chef to run my kitchen.”
I replied, “I think you have the wrong Jacques. I can barely boil an egg.”
“（◎0◎）ᵒᵐᵍᵎᵎᵎ, sorry, wrong Jacques”
I then replied, “Weirdly, I have a friend who is an executive chef, and she’s at a loose end at the moment.”
“Please put me in touch with her,” she said.
I did, and the rest, as they say, “is history.” My friend is now employed.
I think this is the most wonderful miracle as my friend was getting rather desperate to find work.
I’m sure that if you reverse engineer your life, you’ll be able to pick up that there’s a divine hand directing the path of our lives. Well, for me, anyway. Someone once asked me about my life. I said that it was a perfect mess. It is, and it’s perfect.
