I hate ‘offers’ whose conditions render them impractical, untrue or even pernicious.

For months I’ve collected samples for a post on this debilitating aspect of human nature.

Then my wife handed me One Offer to Rule Them All.

All That Glitters

The Gold Coin to Join* offer (see above) seems the soul of simplicity. You:

1. Pay a gold coin.
2. Join.

There’s just one catch: a $70 ‘admin fee’.

Call me demanding, but this dampened my excitement. So I wrote to Fitness First:

Dear Team, I’m writing a Small Business Owner blog post about your Gold Coin to Join offer. I plan to debate whether the $70 admin fee takes the shine off the $1 price. To ensure balance, I’d love to get your perspective. If you have any comments, please email them to me for inclusion. I’ll send you a link to the post when it’s done. Best regards, Paul.

After ten days, they’ve not replied.

Recurring Theme

I’m not fazed that the true joining cost is at least $71. Fitzroy Pool charged me $99.

Rather, it’s the gulf between promise and delivery that disappoints.

This ‘broken promise’ theme has appeared in other posts, including banking and loyalty schemes.

I don’t know about you, but this sort of carry-on seems a dreadful waste of time and energy.

Case Study

As a boy in the 1970s, I once beheld an enormous showroom.

Its huge display windows were covered in fluorescent, five-foot characters:

BOOK SHOP 

BOOKS FROM $999* 

* Free billiard table with every book.

It took me years to comprehend this enigmatic offer.

Now that it’s legal to sell anything anytime, the subterfuge seems positively quaint.

Inconclusion

Apart from the asterisk (*), the above anecdote has nothing to do with our discussion.

It did, however, feel nice to recall my childhood for a minute.

Maybe that’s how Fitness First operates.

Illusion

A worthy fragment of my lost religion is: ‘those who cannot be trusted in small things cannot be trusted in large things’.

Having bitten their coin and found it wanting, I now suspect Fitness First as a firm.

Originally, I thought ‘gold coin’ must mean one dollar.

But they don’t actually say that, so it could be two dollars.

Extrapolating, it could mean something special from the Canberra Mint, like this 25th Anniversary Gold Proof Coin (a snip at $1,950).

But that’d be silly, wouldn’t it?

Delusion

Fitness First has 400,000 members in 90 clubs. The name really does say it all.

As a puny sole trader, it’s obvious I’m the crazy one.

The scary question is:

am I alone?

* No they don’t.^

^ Oh yes they do!

Paul Hassing, Founder & Senior Writer, The Feisty Empire

Three adjoining homes need fences and gates. Will this plum fencing job go begging?

You may think fence builders are too busy building fences to read blogs.

Having recently learned to challenge my assumptions, I’m not sure.

This post is designed to attract a fencing contractor.

Job

My two neighbours and I need new fences and gates.

We’re 3 km from the CBD, close to a freeway exit, and there are two wood yards up the road.

That’s three jobs, in one hit, with materials to hand.

Even better, we all want the same picket design. Such economies of scale!

Background

Last Monday, a nice council man told my neighbour she had 48 hours to demolish her front wall.

Somebody (not me) had complained about the bricks’ dangerous lean.

The spectacle of her whacking away with a sledgehammer drew a crowd.

For the first time, the owners of Numbers 8, 10 and 12 met in the street for a chat.

We realised we all needed fences, and figured that by offering three jobs as one, the work would appear more attractive.

Do you think this assumption is correct?

Terms

There won’t be any trouble with payment, as you can always find me here.

The sole condition is that I report your progress on these pages.

Do a great job and your fame will span the globe.

Do a crap job (or give me grief like the last bloke) and you’re toast!

Caveats

Parking can be tricky in our area, but we all have cars we can move to let you get near.

Do NOT leave your laptop anywhere visible, or it’ll go.

Our homes are built on volcanic soil, which reacts dramatically with water. In the course of a year, our structures can shift a centimetre or two in any direction.

Yet they’re still standing after 120 years, so this is more an annoyance than a problem.

The thing is, we need fences that ‘keep up’ with our homes. They must be flexible.

Promotion

In addition to loading this blog post with SEO-friendly terms, I’m going to broadcast it on Twitter and ask my online friends to spread the word.

I may also leave links at relevant industry sites.

I might even word up SourceBottle.

If you’re Web 2.0 savvy, you should hear of this gig one way or another.

Even if you decide not to take it, your comments on this experiment would be fascinating.

If all I hear are crickets, I’ll know that tradies and social media don’t mix.

Administration

Post a question in the comment box below and I (or one of our readers) will promptly answer it.

I work from home, so can let you in for a look-see any time.

My neighbours are concurrently seeking a good, friendly, reliable tradesperson through traditional channels.

It remains to be seen whether my online approach will prove faster or better.

Well, I’ve nailed my colours to the mast.

I hope we cement a relationship soon.

Paul Hassing, Founder & Senior Writer, The Feisty Empire

Once someone becomes a Master in their field, they often feel a desire to pass on their expertise.

This mentoring ‘completes the circle’ of their journey from novice to expert.

It’s good for them and good for humanity.

It’s also very good for business.

But only if everyone plays.

All Your Eggs

When getting to know a new client, one of my penetrating briefing questions is:

What would happen to your business if you died tonight?

Around 85% say their business would die with them.

Given how few businesses survive, and how much effort it takes to build and maintain a good one, it seems a shame to link a firm to its founder’s fate.

You wouldn’t dare present Cats without lead role understudies.

Why should your business deserve less?

Putting Yourself Out

I once spent two years teaching my friend Adam everything I knew about English, writing, business and client service.

As Adam has brains and charm by the truckload, it wasn’t long before clients sought him by name.

Then he started systemising my business in a way I never thought possible.

Then he started editing my work and teaching me English!

My skills (and Empire fortunes) blossomed under Adam’s tutelage.

Until he needed more than the Empire could offer.

Double-Edged Sword

Biting my tongue till it bled, I gave the glowing reference Adam deserved.

His new boss acknowledged my pain at relinquishing such a gifted associate.

The vessel of all my knowledge was gone.

I wasn’t back to Square One, but I was alone again. I’d learned that:

1. Trainees teach you (at least) as much as they learn.
2. Training them doesn’t mean you get to keep them.

Changing Times

In the good old days, apprenticeships were plentiful.

An employer could take on a youngster knowing that, if they chose to leave at the end, there were others doing likewise from other firms.

After some musical chairs, everyone got what they wanted.

During my human resources career, I watched this ‘all-in’ system collapse (amid strident warnings from those who saw Australia’s future).

The titanic salaries of the last mining boom revealed our dearth of skilled people.

Like emission targets, no-one wants to train young people unless everyone’s doing it.

The penalties for kind souls who press on regardless seem dire.

Risky Business

One such soul is Jude Oldmeadow (on the right in Judy McEachern’s photo).

In theory, trainee Bo Lou Nolten could take Jude’s expertise to an arch rival, or set up in competition herself.

Despite this risk, Jude is pouring her knowledge into Bo at a phenomenal rate.

She’s focusing on what goes around, without any guarantee of what may come around.

I think this is noble.

Bo thinks it’s incredible (as you’ll see from her passionate perspective).

Perhaps unstinting generosity and unbounded confidence are the signs of a True Master.

Are you a Master?

Are you passing the baton?

If not, why not?

Paul Hassing, Founder & Senior Writer, The Feisty Empire

Action

I’m sacking a client.

Well, letting them die on the vine, really. I’m too gutless to tell them.

They’re bright, polite, appreciative and humble.

Their work is fascinating, they pay in seconds and they write beautiful Christmas cards.

So why must they go?

Uranium.

They don’t deal with it, but one of their clients does.

I fear being asked to write for that client.

Reason

Why am I afraid?

Because I’m not sure my morals outweigh my greed.

You see, I’ve been here before.

Background

When I was a salaried copywriter, I was told to write for an energy firm with a poor reputation.

When I refused, it was made clear that my job was at stake.

I took the brief and spent four days trolling the internet for redeeming material.

On finding wind and solar credentials, I was able to write a genuinely green ad. Luckily, the client loved it.

My star ascended. I wrote for tin mines, zinc mines, coal mines, copper mines, bauxite mines … you name it.

Then, one day, a uranium mine.

Regret

As soon as I finished this job, I felt awful. I’d finally snapped my elastic moral tether.

I donated my ill-gotten gains. I joined environment groups. I sponsored a child from Swaziland.

Nothing could make me feel better.

Yet despite all this, after 14 months of GFC, with a fully redrawn home loan, I worry that if I get the call, I’ll do it all again.

I once read a haunting quote. I can’t find it now and would be grateful if you know it. It went something like:

I fear for humanity. For though I’m one of the better ones, I know how bad I am.

Resolve

In a recent comment, one of our readers admitted to an unethical sale.

He only did it once; I wish to act likewise.

That’s why I’m ‘sacking’ my client.

This is quite a mea culpa.

Though I don’t expect to be inundated, I sure could use the company.

Do you have blood on your hands?

Paul Hassing, Founder & Senior Writer, The Feisty Empire

Should you give till it hurts?

I’d rather work and donate money than go and volunteer.

That said, I have optimised a community newsletter and a few immigrant resumes for free.

So I didn’t turn off when I got this direct message from a new Twitter follower:

Hi Paul, would you be willing to help out a young start-up with your experience? Dave*.

I checked Dave’s website. It was very basic, but it presented an extraordinarily imaginative, insanely expensive, environmentally friendly rework of a universally popular consumer good.

I was excited:

Wow, Dave! You really got me! Fabulous name, product, pics, vibe – the works! Your current copy is quite good; how could I help?

Dave replied:

If you like that, check out the new site. Some bugs, but 90% worked out.

This was the sleekest, slickest most stunningly beautiful website I’d ever seen. I shuddered to think what it cost.

I realised Dave wasn’t a penniless wannabe, but a lucrative prospect of the first water. Especially when he wrote:

I will be doing copy for every model, as well as production process, company background, personal background, etc. I’d love to have your comments when I’m ready!

I was very excited:

I’d be honoured to be associated with such breathtakingly fine products. And to look over your draft copy and give you my thoughts.

You’ll know within my first few comments whether we’re on the same tram. If you think I’m adding value, I guess we can talk turkey. I’m naturally keen to know whether you’re thinking:

1. Charity (me to you).
2. Contra (pay me with a product).
3. Reduced rates (goodness of my heart).
4. Credit (pay when you hit pay dirt).
5. Exposure (the whole world knows I’m your writing wingman).
6. Something else (?).

In principle, however, I’m jolly keen.

I added Charity as an afterthought (and because I’m a completist). Given the conversation so far, I was already imagining myself revelling in one of Dave’s astonishing new creations.

Alas:

Thanks for the compliments Paul. I will be doing the copy myself. I went to [ÜBER EXPENSIVE UNIVERSITY] and should be able to write some paragraphs.

But I was hoping you could read them and – through Charity – give me advice or tell me changes you’d make.

I’m not looking for some kind of full-blown business with your company, I was just hoping you would be willing to help out a young start-up with your experience for a few minutes.

BUGGER!

I had a dilemma.

Given his education and the sophistication of his technology, products and website, Dave was obviously loaded.

When optimising copy, there’s no such thing as ‘a few minutes’. Did I really want to donate my precious time to a complete stranger who had it all?

Why did he ask me? Why didn’t he want to pay? Was he playing on my green sympathies? My helpful nature?

I felt confused and deflated, but still replied:

Oh, righto, Dave. Sorry to have gone so far on the wrong tangent. You were the sort of client I’ve been looking for. Guess my wishful thinking got the better of me. I’d be happy to look over your paras when the time is right.

Months later, I still don’t get it.

Am I fool, fake, miser or sociopath?

What would you have done?

I value your input, so please feel free.

* Not his real name.

Paul Hassing, Founder & Senior Writer, The Feisty Empire

Having just clocked one year and 10,000 followers on Twitter, I felt I should report my learnings.

At first I thought I’d just cover basic stuff (e.g. who to follow, how to list, behaviours to avoid).

Then I realised Twitter ‘truths’ were far more important than Twitter ‘tips’.

It seems impossible such a simple (and apparently frivolous) application could impart wisdom, but there it is.

So here I go.

1.   Be yourself.

Genuine humans thrive in Twitter. Fakers, flooders and floggers (though infuriating) do get smacked down in due course.

This isn’t obvious to the casual observer, who understandably concludes Twitter is crap.

Yet when you open yourself to a community and reveal true elements of your life and loves, everyone enjoys the exchange.

Being yourself is also easier than maintaining a fake persona. As Mark Twain said: ‘When you tell the truth, you don’t have to remember anything’.

2.   Be open.

I began Twitter to get more copywriting clients. I achieved that and gained a suite of handy contacts, fascinating colleagues and loyal friends from sectors, countries and professions I never thought I’d encounter.

Because I was open to these people, they named me in magazines, featured me on blogs, recommended me to others and sent me a truckload of free ideas and information.

This rich, unexpected education has been amazing. I’ve seen and done things way beyond my expertise and comfort zone.

I feel stronger, safer and more mature as a result.

3.  Choose quality.

A thousand nameless fans aren’t as fun, useful or interesting as one genuine contact. Yes, I have 10,000 followers. No, I can’t interact meaningfully with them all.

I can, however, pick the gems from the dross and build real relationships with a few dozen kind, clever cats.

4.   Be generous.

I’ve long been a fan of the saying ‘you can’t give good away’. Seth Godin says likewise in his latest freebook. Twitter has shown me time and again this is true.

Online, the Law of Mutual Reciprocity is SO powerful, it needs BIG metaphor:

It’s like spitting out the window of a 300 km/h bullet train. Before you can blink, it comes back at you in a thousand irresistible fragments. Try it! (Online, I mean.)

5.   Focus.

If you straddle several chairs you’ll probably fall between them. It’s the same with social media.

You can’t possibly be good at LinkedIn and Facebook and blogging and YouTube and Flickr and Twitter and all the others.

You’ll never see the sun!

Instead, check them all out, choose the one or two that feel right for you (and your clients) and spend time being open, genuine and generous there.

Twitter and blogging are my faves. The concerted effort I invest in these is well worth it.

That’s my story, anyway. How about you?

Are you Twitter friend or foe?

Paul Hassing, Founder & Senior Writer, The Feisty Empire

                                    Photo by Sidd Jones of Dragon’s Landing.

Yesterday I had an interaction that was so wrong, on so many levels, I had to report it.

I was editing a State Government document at Empire House.

An agent of Federal Government Environment Policy arrived at my gate and pushed against the brick holding it shut.

He was a very young man in a fluorescent waistcoat that said: FREE INSULATION.

Here’s our conversation, distilled for your convenience:

Your gate’s weird.

The brick stops my dogs getting out.

Do you want free insulation? Government’s paying for it.

I’m not sure. When we renovated, we put in a false ceiling with new insulation. Still, one can never have too much insulation. Would my house qualify?

Can you see your insulation?

I think so.

Don’t reckon then; we could get audited.

I see.

[To mobile phone] Charge her the full $400. You’ll get the most that way. If she won’t pay $400, call me back and I’ll drop it. But you won’t make as much.

Well, thanks for stopping by …

We can rip your insulation out.

Why would you do that?

So you can get new insulation.

Well, it’s not very old, I’m not sure …

The new stuff’s really good.

So was mine. Would it have deteriorated much, given it’s only been in a few years?

Doesn’t matter. We can rip it out.

Even if there’s nothing wrong with it?

Yeah. If we write down that it’s ‘damaged’, it’s damaged.

Really?

Yeah. Everyone’s doing it. People are making heaps.

I see why there’s been some comment in the media about this scheme.

Yeah. [To mobile phone] I’m just up the road. You start; I’ll be there in two seconds.

[To me] Training.

Of course. Well, thanks for ...

Is this Number 16?

No; 10.

OK. See ya.

Bye.

As a tax-paying, business-optimising greenie, I was deeply affected by this immane and nefandous malefaction.

Today’s youth have a colourful term for it:

WTF?!

Thoughts?

Paul Hassing, Founder & Senior Writer, The Feisty Empire

You can’t eat Twitter followers ... can you?

The other weekend, a barbecue gave me a reality check.

I found that all the social media in the world can’t beat yarning with ten real people.

A short chat unexpectedly led to a new client, immediate work and welcome payment.

Once again I’ve learnt lessons.

1.  Ivory Towers are Hard to Climb

In studying Web 2.0 for over a year, I associated chiefly with others who were on a similar path.

I thus formed the opinion that everyone knew the nature, purpose and importance of corporate blogs.

So, when asked at the BBQ what I’d been up to, I proudly listed my blogging endeavours.

The following silence was long and profound.

Finally someone asked: ‘What’s a blog?’

Nodding heads confirmed that I’d been preaching to the uninitiated.

I was stunned. These people were my age. How could they not know?!

2.  Face to Face Beats Virtual

It later transpired that one person did know what I was talking about.

He had a corporate blog and he wanted it optimised.

As he was a good mate of a good mate, I’d assumed he knew all about my blogging service.

Further, I’d laid it out in posts, summarised it in a PDF and emailed it to every corner of the cosmos.

But, surprise surprise, he was unaware of my social media adventures.

This plum prospect had been under my nose for months.

3.  Nobody is an Island

It may seem romantic to play the gifted, eccentric writer, ensconced in his garret, producing flawless works of beauty while the rest of humanity moils below.

In reality, it’s stupid and vain.

I now realise my flight to social media (to the exclusion of human interaction) meant putting all my eggs in one virtual basket.

Though I’m not a very social person, avoiding the human touch altogether seems bad for business.

Questions

The fact you’re reading this blog suggests you’re hip to the social media groove.

I’d therefore like to know:

• Have you replaced client face time with Facebook time?
• For generating business, do virtual interactions beat real ones?
• Could those who don’t know or care about blogs actually be right?
• Have you ever found a great new client at a BBQ or similar social event?

 Serve it up!

Paul Hassing, Founder & Senior Writer, The Feisty Empire 

This may sting a little...

Part 1 covered the top eight ‘pain points’ (as ranked by SMEs in MYOB’s Business Monitor).

Here are the lower eight, again with my comments.

9.    Doing monthly accounts including tax

I hate bookkeeping so much, I put all my papers in a box and spend one agonising day per quarter sorting them out.

I like words, not numbers!

10. Keeping business books up to date

See above. Hate it.

11. Preparing quarterly BAS

See above. Hate it. Hate it! HATE IT!!!

12. Networking with similar businesses

See Point 3. Thanks to social media, I’ve never been better connected.

13. Finding information relevant to your business

As above. Adam, Malcolm, Joanna, Sonia, the Stephens … this amazing list goes on!

14. eCommerce or eMarketing on your website

Bit of a fizzer. I had naively high hopes for my online shop, but I’ve only sold a few eBooks.

I need to improve my offer, reduce the price and add zing.

Google AdWords drove me nuts for six months. Forget it!

15. Managing your business website

With Andrew Hurl in my corner, I can’t lose.

In my next life, I’d like to learn a bit of back end stuff so I can tinker with my content.

For now, I’ll just send Andrew emails at 3 am.

16. Managing existing staff performance

I’m a twitchy minion and a merciless boss. But we get on OK.

Most days I spend around ten hours at my desk (occasionally head-butting it).

Alas, no Christmas bonus for me.

Well, I’m jolly glad to have all that out of my system!

As always, I warmly welcome your comments, stories, segues and diatribes.

And your jump cuts, maiden speeches, shameless plugs and dissertations.

Just tell us where it hurts.

Paul Hassing, Founder & Senior Writer, The Feisty Empire 

Pointed observations

Part 1 of 2

Megan told me about MYOB’s quarterly Business Monitor.

I’d not heard of it, but when she mentioned ‘pain points’ I wanted in.

Below is the latest ‘league table’ of 16 top business hurts.

1165 SMEs have ranked them from AAARGHHH!!! to meh…

I’ve added my thoughts on 2009-10. I hope you will too.

1.    Marketing to get new customers or new business

I gained one new client from Twitter, one from blogging and one from targeted emails.

Not too bad, given the GFC. Yet I should’ve focussed on my existing clients.

2.    Getting funding or finance to grow the business

My bank unilaterally added redraw to my home loan. When my revenue dipped, these funds were handy.

But this is a slippery slope. I’ve since reverted to my draconian repayment plan.

3.    Getting affordable & reliable business advice

With my trusty business coach plus all the kind, clever cats I met via Twitter and blogging, I had all the help I needed.

See Stephen’s post for the perfect example.

4.    Managing the cash flow of the business

I’ve always found this murderous. I should keep a separate account for my tax obligations, but I don’t. Rather, every client payment feels like it’s ALL mine.

My unpredictable workload and some clients’ rubbery approach to terms exacerbated this problem.

Nor did it help that I had to spend $4K to keep one of my doggies alive!

5.    Finding the best suppliers at the right price

I’m blessed here. My bookkeeper, IT guy, accountant and coffee grinder are all top notch and reasonably priced.

Less impressive are my ISP, car washer and toner supplier.

Silly me.

6.    Paying tax due on BAS

Hideous, due to Point 4.

A constant stress I could fix if I would just grow up!

7.    Attracting new & skillful (sic) staff

Not a problem in 2009, given the lower workload.

In fact, I was approached by two talented writers who found me online.

Now that work’s picking up, I may call one.

8.    Paying PAYG tax

Barring bookkeeping errors, careful year-round management by my accountant usually gets me a small tax refund.

As I’ve lost faith in superannuation, however, my reduced contributions will increase my taxable income.

OK: we’re eight pain points down.

We’ll cover the lower eight in Part 2.

How about you?

Did you have pain, gain or both?

I’d love to know.

In fact, I’m on …

tenterhooks.

Paul Hassing, Founder & Senior Writer, The Feisty Empire