Do your customers pay it forward?

I wasn’t going to do a tax post, but something unprecedented and rather special happened this week.

One of my newest clients asked if she could pay me a chunk of change now for work I’ll do next year.

After deliberating for several nanoseconds, I agreed.

I like this deal very much.

Your customers may too.

Tax Effective

Why would they pay in advance?

To claim you as an expense this financial year.

It seems some clients are real people, just like us.

I pay all my claimable bills by 30 June, even if they’re not due for weeks. I’ve seen this tactic described in every tax-tip article I’ve read.

It makes sense for my clients to do this too.

Of course, not everyone does it. Some accounts payable systems (and people) can’t (or won’t) exceed glacial speed for any reason.

But those who do get a handy tax break.

Future Fund

My client’s pay-it-forward idea is an elegant extension of this principle.

She’s working on a long, complicated article which she plans to let me whack into shape.

As she knows she’ll be using me, why not claim me now?

If you have regular customers, or know they’ll be using you next year, you could float this idea (naturally emphasising the benefit to them).

Risks

If I were a cad, I could make off with my client’s cash and live the high life in Koo Wee Rup – perhaps tormenting her with tart postcards.

Alternatively, she could accost me when I’m elbow-deep in another client’s website and demand that I drop what I’m doing to serve her.

The thing is (and please don’t laugh) we trust each other: we’ll conclude this deal when it’s mutually convenient.

When I sought her permission to write this post she said:

You may want to mention there’s a high level of trust, I wouldn’t do this with every man and his dog.

Also I got the idea because several years ago someone called and asked if they could send me a payment of $5K upfront for some marketing help.

I had no idea who this person was but someone had recommended me! It’s a good way to give yourself a kick up the butt to get work done ASAP.

I heartily concur.

Your Call

For all you know, some of your customers may be awash with funds, teetering on the threshold of a higher tax rate and desperate to pay something (anything!) forward.

I know that some corporate budgets, if not fully spent, reduce subsequent allocations.

As many managers are petrified of diminished funding, this could be your in.

As we’ve learnt from previous posts, you may have only to ask.

Maybe you already have.

• Have you?
• Will you?
• Why not?
• Couldn’t you use the loot?!

I see a bright future, adorned with your comments.

Ideally sooner, rather than later.

But better late than never.

Paul Hassing, Founder & Senior Writer, The Feisty Empire

                                                  

                                                     I had it, but lost it.

Early adopters are where it’s at.

While fairly hip to the groove, I got a very nasty shock on dipping my toe in the iTunes pool.

The following lesson may save you from losing your entire music collection.

It also teaches the value of taking extra special care of customers new to what you do.

Apple Virgin

As a former DJ, married to a dancing queen, I had many CDs.

Long a PC advocate (despite their many failings) I was wary of Apple iTunes.

Then Fonnie inexplicably received a free iPod shuffle when buying jeans.

Suddenly there was no barrier to exploring this extraordinary new technology.

Hats off to Apple, I thought.

Learning the Steps

We worked out how to load some of our CDs onto iTunes.

We bought a few new iTune songs for good measure.

Then we transferred 281 tracks to our free aluminium fragment.

Suddenly, we had enough music to drive us interstate. And back.

The Great Declutter

I was sold.

Very soon, so were our CDs.

After months of persuasion, Fonnie agreed to burn all our CDs to her PC, after which I liquidated them on eBay.

I revelled in reclaimed space. Never had I been paid to tech up.

Fonnie was less enthusiastic, fearing for the safety of our 3,173 hits and memories.

The Great Promise

No worries! I cried. We can back up our music to your new iPhone!

If the iPhone goes down, we’ve got the PC.

If the PC goes down, we’ve got the iPhone.

She’ll be right, Mate!

Then the PC went down.

I replaced the hard drive and reinstalled all software.

But I could NOT back up from the iPhone.

The Great Depression

Two lifetimes of music, gone in a heartbeat.

I called my Hardware Guy.

Then my Software Guy.

Neither could help.

My Hardware Guy asked an Apple Store Guy who said:

If you buy songs from iTunes, you can get them back, but if you acquire songs from CDs you lose them. Welcome to the Kingdom of Apple!

I was extremely upset.

And too terrified to tell Fonnie her worst fear had been realised.

Forensic Foray

After two weeks of deep sadness, an IT colleague offered to recover our music files from the damaged hard drive.

I’d read that the only way to secure private data was to smash dead drives with a large hammer.

I’d been keen to do this, but something had stopped me.

The following evening, all our songs were restored – minus the CD artwork I’d painstakingly scanned, cropped and optimised.

Decision

Words can’t describe my relief.

What I can describe is my decision to abort our imminent iPad and MacBook Pro purchases.

I was on the brink of becoming an Apple convert.

But a system, however elegant, which compels newbies to abandon their old worlds is not for me.

It’s like me telling new clients they’re forbidden to use the words ‘expert’ and ‘service’ on their websites.

This saga concerns CDs. Imagine if I’d moved my entire business to a new system, then lost everything because I missed something in the manual.

Early adoption has its place. But from now on I plan to do a bit more looking before I leap. Lest I end up an orphan.

I’ll also be taking much greater care of new customers unfamiliar with my wares.

What say you?

Paul Hassing, Founder & Senior Writer, The Feisty Empire

                                                Must I weigh my words?

In The Agony of Price, we saw that charging for what we sell can be a tricky affair.

I’d now like to explore the conflict between discrete and continuous goods (or services).

Half a Kitten

Discrete goods come in whole units – like cars, kittens, football tickets and DVDs.

Continuous goods come in measured doses – like petrol (litres), carpet (square metres) and copywriting (hours).

You can buy half a litre, but not half a kitten. (At least not in my suburb.)

Fewer Carpet

When describing discrete goods, we use ‘fewer’. When describing continuous goods, we use ‘less’. Thus, we say ‘less carpet’ and ‘fewer tickets’.

Unfortunately for me, the division between discrete and continuous goods fails when it comes to resumes.

I see resume optimisation as a continuous service, because I charge by the hour.

Depending on source material quality, a resume can take me 1.0  to 4.5 hours (i.e. $120 to $540 + GST.)

By contrast, my clients see their resume as a discrete good. They have only one.

I consider $540 a fair price for half a day of my expert attention and 30 years experience.

Yet some resume providers charge as little as $50.

How could I possibly be eleven times better than these ‘competitors’?

93.33% Proof

Of the last 15 resumes I did, 14 of their owners went on to secure their dream job. (The 15^th would’ve too, had he listened to my interview advice.)

I can turn a box of torn notes into a two-page marvel that will get you a top job at Microsoft.

I always warn clients that I’m much more expensive (and effective) than local-rag traders.

Some see my fee as a worthy investment in a much brighter future.

Others go to jelly at the thought of my ticking clock.

I appreciate where they’re coming from; taxi meters on freeways have a similar effect on me.

That’s why I offer a free option.

What’s Mine is Yours

During my ten-year human resources career, I handled thousands of resumes for hundreds of jobs.

Each time a resume won its owner a job, I compared it to my resume. If it was better, I improved mine.

The result was a distillation of every successful resume I ever saw.

So, if a client is quavering about price, I send them my resume.

I say that all they need do is fold their source materials into this template.

By doing so, they don’t spend a cent.

The trouble is, they can’t.

Not So Easy

Their source materials are too many, too few or too poor.

They don’t know what to put in or take out.

Some have a go, but the result is a hodgepodge.

That’s when I explain that it takes expert eyes and hands to sort gems from spoil and weave them tight.

They see this, but the $50 option still haunts them.

And so they try for a middle path, hiring me for half the necessary time to ‘break the back’ of their resume.

This defeats the purpose:

1. Dream jobs demand perfect resumes.
2. Perfect resumes demand time.

Up Front

I could solve this problem by turning my continuous service into a discrete good.

I could simply say all optimised resumes cost $600, no matter what.

The timid would vanish and the true believers would cough up.

But I don’t do this, because I only charge for time actually worked.

This policy, though well-intentioned, clashes with my clients’ desires.

So, should I get with their program?

Good on You

Are your goods (or services) continuous or discrete?

Do any fall between the cracks?

What charging dramas have you had and how did you resolve them?

In for a penny, in for a pound!

Paul Hassing, Founder & Senior Writer, The Feisty Empire

                                                   Are cheques dumb?

A cheque (check) arrived in my letterbox last week.

It triggered good and bad thoughts.

And you know what that means.

Yes! It’s time to play …

Fortunately Unfortunately!

Fortunately

I’d been waiting on this payment for over two months. I was happy to get the money in any form.

I may even have accepted flour, sugar or tea.

I counted my blessings and recalled that California is ‘paying’ its suppliers with IOUs!

Unfortunately

The cheque compelled me to leave Empire House and venture into The World.

I had to ride my bike to the bank to deposit it.

This cost me time and effort and broke my concentration for the job I was doing.

Fortunately

It was a glorious sunny day.

The 5 km round trip was good, well-needed exercise and there wasn’t a queue (ckueue) at the bank.

I was there and back in 20 minutes.

Unfortunately

The bank told me the cheque would take three business days to clear.

So, even though I could see the money in my online banking account, I couldn’t use it to pay my suppliers.

This made me cross. It also made me wonder if some organisations deliberately use cheques to hang on to their money for a few more days.

Could this be the case, do you think?

Fortunately

I had room on my line of credit to pay all my bills on or before time.

I’m proud of this policy, but it has been harder to follow these last 18 months.

Unfortunately

While happy to have my loot at last, I felt the whole cheque thing was a bit archaic.

Why couldn’t this (quite large) company do electronic funds transfer (EFT) like everyone else?

Were they too slow, scared or set in their ways to get with the program?

Or was I missing something?

Do some firms find cheques faster, safer or easier to reconcile than EFT?

Do cheques offer some other magical advantage?

I’ve written just two cheques in two years.

I hate waiting and watching for them to be presented.

Am I’m being too precious?

Fortunately

I have your vast expertise to elicit.

What are your views on and experiences with cheques?

Are you paper or ether?

For or agin?

Come on …

Show me the money!

Paul Hassing, Founder & Senior Writer, The Feisty Empire

                                                 Change = Opportunity.

I just bought a printer.

Usually, this fact would excite only if you needed a printer too.

What should excite everyone is how I bought it.

My method got me a 90%+ user-rated product for 66% of recommended retail price (RRP).

I believe you can replicate this pleasing outcome on other business equipment purchases.

Problem

My HP d145 printer/scanner/fax/copier was aging and thirsty.

These traits I could handle. I dutifully bought expensive ink cartridges and even replaced a print head to revive flagging performance.

But when the d145 told me my barely-used black cartridge was ‘old’ (and therefore unusable) I saw magenta.

And having recently gained three huge new clients, I needed a polite, reliable replacement.

Fast.

Research

I assumed that in six years since buying my d145, printers had changed beyond recognition.

But because I was so busy (and am not very technical) I didn’t want to spend days researching and comparing myriad models.

So I got onto Twitter and said something like:

My d145 is old & cranky. I need a reliable replacement. Any ideas?

In minutes I had three responses. Two pointed to the same solution: a Canon Pixma.

I asked for details and got glowing reports. I didn’t know these people, but for some reason I trusted them.

I guess it was like offering a prayer, then following instructions.

Choice

With only four Pixma models described on Canon’s clear, well designed website, I swiftly narrowed my choice to the MX870.

Having been told to trust God but tie my camel, I Googled ‘MX870 review’. The ratings were universally high (and uncommonly so for such a potent source of office angst).

I was convinced.

Price

Confident I could do better than $299 RRP, I sussed prices using my old mates shopbot and getprice.

Right away I found $250 plus delivery.

I next checked JB Hi-Fi, who offered $249 with free delivery.

I was getting warm, but wanted MORE.

So I visited Officeworks as a control* and Lo! There it was: $199 delivered.

SOLD!

Joy

This entire exercise took 1.5 hours.

Decades ago, to get bang for my capital buck, I’d have to ring around (then physically visit) multiple retailers. What business owner has time for that?!

The internet has truly made shopping a breeze.

Tech-savvy readers will be familiar with my method.

If you’ve picked up a tip or two, please tell us.

And if you’ve more wisdom to share, please do so.

I can’t wait

to print it!

* And because they impressed me here.

Paul Hassing, Founder & Senior Writer, The Feisty Empire

                                                      Safe and sound.

                                                           FINALLY!

For years I’ve lived in fear of losing the Empire Über Komputer to fire, theft, lightning, coffee or head crash.

The loss of my data and documents would be commercially (and emotionally) cataclysmic.

Despite this, my back-up efforts have been patchy.

Until now.

Chequered Past

In the Pre-Feistian Period, I backed up treasured works by printing them.

My first electronic back-ups were so modest, they fitted onto 3.5 inch floppy disks.

Then came the relative awesomeness of the Iomega Zip drive.

This was soon eclipsed by CD ROMs.

Which gave way to DVDs.

Even these wilted before the might of the Maxtor external hard drive.

Which turned out to be a lot more hassle to use than the 2, 4, 8, 16, 32 (etc) gigabyte USB sticks (thumb drives) I collected.

Now yet another methodology has come to the fore.

And for the first time in history, I’m backed to the hilt.

Hairy Potter

My approach to backing up was as fragmented as the above media list.

I did it when I remembered.

Or had nothing better to do.

Or when I created something of such beauty and value I couldn’t bear the thought of losing it.

On average, I’d say I backed up once a quarter. Tops.

BAD copywriter!

But wait, there’s more …

The results of these sporadic back-ups were variously stored – in folders behind me, or draws beside me.

Sometimes I hid them in Building B of The Empire Buildings (my tool shed).

Once I even invoked the power of offsite storage by handing a back-up to my parents who, having misplaced it, denied ever having received it!

Reviewing this fragmentary record, I’m damned lucky I didn’t come seriously unstuck.

Line Call

You may have seen Arthur from Carbonite commenting on this blog.

Thanks to him, I’ve just completed my first online back-up.

As of last Friday, double-encrypted duplicates of every file I have are stored somewhere in America.

Hopefully in Alaska or Nevada or … Midway!

Any time I change one of my files, its US doppelganger mirrors that change soon after.

It’s early days, but this appears to be rather cool.

When I first heard of Carbonite, I did NOT like the idea of zapping my personal and business files through the ether.

Let alone to some unknown crowd in Yankeeland (no offence to our American friends).

But Arthur put a local face to this newfangled approach.

Guiding me on Twitter, he diffused my fear and ignorance to the point where I felt confident enough to give it a shot.

I’m running out of space in this post. But if you’re interested in my Carbonite experience, I can detail it in a follow-up.

Back Me Up Here

For now, I’d just like to say I’m delighted to have ditched my chronic, nagging data loss dread.

Can you say the same?

What’s your back-up regime (if any)?

Do you stick to it?

What would happen if the Great Spirit smote your IT with drive-frying thunderbolts?

And what do you know about this online* back-up caper?

Think back.

And come forward.

Your call will be recorded.

* If you feel online back-ups aren’t for you, perhaps I can interest you in a pre-loved, easy-to-use Maxtor!

Paul Hassing, Founder & Senior Writer, The Feisty Empire

Here’s an old chestnut I hope we can crack:

Can you charge clients for travelling time?

I’ve had bags of trouble with this issue.

My hairdresser has an elegant answer. I’d like to see if you’ve a better one.

Fly Buys

When I started freelancing, I had a weekly two-day gig at a client’s site.

I figured driving to this was a normal commute, so only billed for the time I spent at their desk.

Then I developed a training course.

One day, the client asked me to run it interstate.

I added travelling time to my proposal and all hell broke loose.

As far as they were concerned, I was lucky to get the job.

None of their staff were paid to travel to work; why should a mere contractor?

I explained that, while I was eager to please:

• On normal days, I sat happily at Empire House being paid for every second.
• Heading interstate for them would mean a 5.00 am start, two flights, four cab rides and a 14-hour day for me.

But the more I tried to defend my case, the angrier they got.

I folded, and only got paid for the two-hour training session (plus receipted costs).

The course was a big success. This led to more bookings. And fights.

I never managed to get reimbursed for leaving my HQ, enduring traffic, queues and crowds, waiting in airports and trotting the globe.

Was that a fair cop?

Hair Tonic

Philippe* the hairdresser (whom we met last week) travels to clients all the time – especially for weddings.

Like me, the instant he steps from his chair, he haemorrhages ‘opportunity cost’ income.

Unlike me, he recoups this.

But HOW?

One little word.

Fee.

Fee Be

While clients detest the thought of businesspeople raking in loot while sitting in their cars, they apparently don’t mind the concept of a travel fee.

In his firm-but-fair fashion, Philippe explains that he’d love to do the bride in her bathroom, but that his home visit will occasion a charge additional to that for the service rendered.

‘No problem!’ she says.

Doctors do it.

Vets.

Hell, even plumbers do it.

When I worked at a gas utility, they got paid a minimum of four hours for every call-out, even if it was just a 20-minute false alarm!

And now I see hairdressers can time-travel too.

So why not me?

And what about you?

Perhaps my error lies in giving too much information.

Penny for your thoughts?

* Not his real name.

Paul Hassing, Founder & Senior Writer, The Feisty Empire

When I founded the Empire, payment terms gave me more grief than my quest for clients.

It was only my mentors’ patient advice that helped me resolve this angst and realise the world of business isn’t always fair.

In these present interesting times, however, one client has pierced my cocoon of tranquillity. Should I lower my standards, or should they lift theirs?

I’m a literal chap. This makes me fabulous at proofreading but less so at parties. When I sent my first invoices years ago, I firmly believed 7 Days meant 7 Days and that everyone felt the same. When 14, 21, 30 and even 60 days passed with no result, I became agitated and launched a follow-up email campaign (which I blush to recall today).

All it did was annoy my clients and disturb my sleep.

I couldn’t understand it. I paid my bills the day I got them. Especially if they came from a loyal supplier who’d provided great service at short notice. Even if it meant using my line of credit. Was this street not two-way? My mentors told me that:

• Not everyone is literal.
• Few people read terms.
• Some who do, pretend they don’t.
• Not everyone has a line of credit.
• 30 days is the norm; anything sooner is a bonus.
• Accounts Payable is often ordered to delay payment as long as possible.
• In a downturn, payment times blow out.

This wisdom took time to penetrate, because I invariably did flawless work, on time, for a reasonable fee. Finally I realised I was neither the centre of the universe nor the model of mankind.

By lowering my expectations, I reduced disappointment. By bending, I didn’t break. Life became easier and happier for all.

Until yesterday.

Some time ago, I did a super-urgent job for a client. I had to bring in another specialist, who pulled out all stops. Late nights, weekends, favours, a car chase … the lot. We did the job in time. And it was beautiful. The specialist and I sent our invoices (which reduced, for goodwill, the number of hours we’d actually spent).

30 days later, no loot. While I was prepared to be patient, I felt responsible for the specialist. A polite email to the client revealed we had a further fortnight to wait. Given all our effort, the specialist and I were miffed.

My mentors say tough times mean I should be even more flexible. Yet my heart says a last-minute job, done perfectly under pressure, deserves swift reward.

I’m either justified or relapsing. What do you reckon?

Paul Hassing        , Founder & Senior Writer, www.thefeistyempire.com

Pythagoras said, ‘In anger we should refrain both from speech and action’.

Someone else said, ‘Never send a message in anger’.

But they never had to struggle from sleep, stumble down the hall and switch their printer to fax mode – just to receive an unsolicited 10% OFF!!! toner cartridge offer.

Buddha said, ‘Holding on to anger is like grasping a hot coal with the intent of throwing it at someone else; you are the one who gets burned’. I prefer this idea, so couched my coal thus:

Dear Team

I just received an unsolicited fax about your firm.

This annoying waste of time is deadly to your brand.

The fax number and ID at the top of the fax have been (intentionally?) truncated, making it impossible for me to enter them at www.stopfaxingme.org

My fax number is XXXX XXXX.

I’d like to get off your distribution list today.

Shall I contact the Communications Ombudsman, or can you handle this yourselves?

Regards

P.

J

This email was informative and concerned. It showed that I’d tried to resolve the issue myself. It had a clear call to action and a relevant, tangible consequence for inaction. The response was remarkably swift and pleasing:

Yes I will remove this number.

Regards, Customer Service

This is rare win. Usually, if I voice the faintest objection about anything, I’m ignored, derided, insulted, threatened and/or punished. Complaining has become a dangerous affair. Even tooting your horn at someone who cuts you off can get you shot.

To control your communication lines, channel your anger constructively and diminish your chances of drama, I recommend the following industry and government sites. They’ve been set up to discourage people from abusing your fax, phone and snail mail.

If you know of other sites or (non-violent) strategies to maximise the peace we need to run our businesses, please drop us a line.

Sweet dreams!

Paul Hassing, Founder & Senior Writer, www.thefeistyempire.com  

It may surprise (and even reassure) you to know I don’t use MYOB. I have other software, having seized a one-year-free deal without knowing what it meant.

I now pay for updates each year that cost more than the original program. Worse, I chose a version to handle five staff, who all had to go when my No. 1 client ditched me retrospectively. But that’s another story.

My data can’t fit into a lesser version, so I’m trapped. Worst of all, I don’t use the damn thing!

I hate bookkeeping and I hate Business Activity Statements. I hate them so much I used to think about going back to corporate life – and that’s saying something.

Then I read The E Myth by Michael E. Gerber. His Chapter 4, Adolescence: Getting Some Help, spoke of the joys of hiring a bookkeeper. So I did.

Suddenly, reams of receipts and hours of begging software for mercy were replaced by a prim, efficient gentlemen who visited quarterly for two years. I washed my hands of the whole filthy affair and concentrated with glee on my main game.

This worked fine, until Mr Prim* made a $10,000 error which didn’t come to light until too late. The feasting occasioned by my huge tax return (and all the delights it promised) was replaced by an icy, empty feeling very much like a broken heart.

Mr Prim and I have long since parted company.

The moral, of course, is that you can’t abandon whole tracts of your business without running big risks. You must keep at least a fingerhold of understanding and control in every area. If you can’t, you may not be cut out for this caper.

I see this, but I still hate bookkeeping and its software. Invitations to courses? Binned. Online tutorials? Unopened. It’s pathological!

So, this is a post in which I ask for your advice, opinions and stories. How do YOU handle the black art of bookkeeping?

Paul Hassing, Founder & Senior Writer, www.thefeistyempire.com  

* Not his real name.