You name it chances are good I may have tried my hand at selling it. Only recently have I decided to do some online marketing. For me the internet, using technology, dabbling in HTML coding, creating squeeze pages, copying and pasting is a natural choice since I am very acquainted with technology in general and how to use it.
When approaching a new business I truly have no problem “un-learning what I have learned” (yes thank you very much YODA) and it only makes sense to me to mimic what other successful people are doing. My first online marketing venture was with Project Payday. Once I got past my initial skepticism (you will notice I refer to this a lot) I placing ads and copying and pasting my heart out.
Despite all the “Proven” words to say, copy, and paste I found myself feeling very robotic ( I am NOT a robot I swear!) and stiff. I am doing all the things I am being told to do, posting all the words I should be posting, but seriously? It just does NOT sound like me in any way.
Ask anyone who has ever had a “real” conversation with me. Chances are good I am joking, having fun, making goofy comments, and almost never sounding like the ads I was posting. So I decided to join as many “work at home” internet business groups on Facebook as I could and just started messaging people, getting to know them, and having a real conversation instead of just pitching my thing.
The takeaway here is to BE YOURSELF. Its something I learned during my 18 years of call center customer service/sales/telemarketing experience. Even when there was a “script” for me to read I understood it was my job to breath life into it and the only way I could do that was to be my fun loving happy self while doing so.
Asking questions, lots of questions, poking holes in popular notions, being a complete pest, refusing to leave your brain at the door, reserving the right to be the constant doubting Thomas are actually good things.
It means you insist on being engaged, spoken to, and NOT being spoken at. Trust me if you have ever been spoken at instead of being spoken to you know what I am talking about.
During a rah-rah sales pitch, sales marketing, this is the money you can make session I once had before taking on the task of selling expensive vacuum cleaners to the open public the tactic used during the session seemed to involve blowing the potential sales people minds by flashing numbers at them.
Numbers are nice, unless I am battling them by trying to bend them to my will just so I can pay a utility bill. Numbers can be motivating and help someone possibly visualize amounts in their favor they may have never thought be possible for them.
I don’t mind using numbers to gain the perked interest of others. A good example is Chuckie, who is part of my marketing team. He is averaging 300.00 a week with only 3 months of effort as a investment of time and effort. Sounds great to me because Chuckie certainly deserves the income and I am happy to hear he is doing well and is on his way to creating a very nice passive residual income.
What bothers me is when numbers are the ONLY thing being used. I am a person! Not a calculator! If your selling something, or marketing something please try to remind yourself there are real people out there with real problems and real dreams attached to that wallet your trying so hard to open.
I turned 50 last year, I am looking 51 dead in the eye in six more months. It has me worried. The reason why is based on trips to Walmart, any grocery store, the hardware store, The DMV, Doctors offices, and just pumping gas into my minivan. While I am at any location really there is a growing number of people growing old. A lot of these older people (older than me I am pointing out here) are men. The majority of them have somehow, in someway have decided to wear (with very slight variations) the same outfit. Its as if there is a store that caters to grumpiness, never ending stories of working on their car, garage, boat, cabinets, memories of war, and the last pork chop they ate.
The outfits seem to consist of: jeans, coveralls, work pants (if you say dockers they will slap you for being a sissy), a dress shirt (normally plaid, printed in some manly fashion without looking to frilly), suspenders (seems to be a MUST HAVE item) a belt (I guess the suspenders are a back up just in case the belt goes out or visa-versa), and a hat.
The hat seems to open to interpretation just as long it does not have fruit on top of and is completely void of a bow or ribbon included. Baseball cap seems to be a nice popular choice just as long as you wear it like a real man and stop trying to look like a rap artist, or someone with a mental problem. What is inscribed/written on the baseball hat seems to be important also. Letting people know your a war veteran and that you were Killing people in foreign lands while they were still nursing will get you some serious nursing home Cred.
Bowlers, Pork Pie hats(Think Walter White from Breaking Bad), Fedora’s, and even Richard Petty style cowboy hats can be acceptable wear. If your stuck in traffic behind a slow moving vehicle chances are good the driver is a old man in a hat (or he left his hat at home).
What confuses me is 1. when exactly did these legions of old men decide to start wearing the same outfit? And 2. Now that I am getting older am I required to follow suit? When exactly do I start turning the garden hose on the neighbors kids?, Complain about the meatloaf at the local cafeteria?, start smelling like I poured a entire bottle of Old Spice on myself?, Have a handshake that feels like Solid Rock?, tell stories of the car I put back together with nothing more than a piece of wire and a can of WD40?, threaten to put my foot up someones wazoo?, smack people on the back of the head just for being a dumb ass? The questions never end.
Award Season: The Grammy’s, the whammy’s, the double whammy’s, the slammy’s, the Oscars, the Fred’s, Benny’s, Tony’s, SAG awards, Saggy awards, Baggy Pants awards, people choice awards, people hated this awards, The Emmy’s, The kimmy’s, and world wide wrestling championship have a lot in common:
They like themselves a lot, they suck all the oxygen known to man, (and other intelligent beings) insist you care about who was nominated, barrage you with who wore what, who flubbed their acceptance speech, who did what, what happened when, and take up precious TV channel space and time where a reasonably not so old episode of Matlock could have been aired. I mean C’mon! How am I supposed to find out if indeed Matlock can successfully defend Mrs. Doubtfire against charges of stealing The First Baptist’s Church’s Pastor’s wifes hat??
All Red Carpets DO NOT lead somewhere wonderful. Miley, Bieber, Kanye, Chris Brown, and who knows next will make certain of that. As if the Red Carpet was not already littered with the jagged metal and broken glass of Paparazzi, Fashion trolls, Talking heads, twitter ninja’s, Instagram Warriors, and what ever manner of fresh hell can be found along the way.
Here’s an idea: How about we celebrate nurses, Firefighters, Police Officers, EMT personnel, Food Pantry volunteers, Child protective Service workers, Teachers, Humane society helpers, Soldiers, and real people who made real contributions to the world being a better place?? Such a celebration and award show would certainly be a billion times more worthy of our attention, TV time, twitter feeds, and media attention.
Believe it or not my first introduction to Wendy O. Williams was during a English class in high school. Mr. (sorry I can’t remember his last name) rolled in a TV, and VCR from the AV department and proceeded to shock, stimulate, and barrage our ears and eyes with the magic wonder and mystery that was Wendy O. Williams. He made it clear he was a big fan of hers and since she is famous for her Mohawk (did she have a mohawk? I was not paying attention to her hair at the time), strategically placed electrical tape/pasties/clothes?, and taking a chainsaw to a car while performing most of the guys in the class (who knows, maybe a couple of girls also) became instant fans also.
Mind you, this is during the early 80’s when MTV actually played music videos and it just got so crazy as to what and who would be shown on MTV it seemed like it was open season on the ears, eyes, and whatever sensibilities there may have been left over from the post disco studio 54 age. MTV garnered the reputation of being almost like a pirate radio station. You watched it during the day with your parents and they would be kind enough to show simple minds or Tiffany and when you watched late at night you just might get to see Punk Bands, Billy Idol, and even Wendy O. Williams. A complete overload of orange, green, purple hair, tattoos, piercings, ripped jeans, and badass anti-establishement rock music.
Because I truly want my blog to be rated G (PG at best) I will not post a youtube video here as an example. Never mind Lady Gaga, or Nicki Minaj, they are just mere novices when compared to the fierce full throttle bat in the face explosion that was Wendy O. Williams. Now where did I leave that chainsaw??