Money talks. Has it said anything to you lately?

Did you hear about the rather lucrative printer cartridge deal?

The highlight for me was the public servant who:

‘… bought enough black toner cartridges to supply the government department for 40 years — despite toner cartridges expiring after two years.’

As my taxes paid this person’s salary, I felt encouraged by her initiative and commitment.

Then I wondered if you’ve been stung by either end of the corruption cattle prod.

Tagged & Bagged

There are two sides to every story. And difficult times tend to throw these into high relief.

On one side, we have flawed humans with the power to make purchasing decisions.

On the other, hungry companies desperate to make a deal.

If a wad of loot were to find its way into a brown paper bag, and that bag were to find its way into a pocket, and the owner of that pocket were to award a lucrative contract, who would be the wiser?

This is a new area for me.

Whenever I’ve been desperate for business, I’ve been way too desperate to contribute to anyone’s slush fund.

When I’ve been in positions of power, the most I ever got was a bag of lollies from a printing firm.

Guilty!

Actually, now that I think about it, those lollies worked a treat.

They were red, like raspberries, but in the shape of a K.

Even better, they had a hard, chewy consistency (like the long-discontinued, sadly missed battleship lollies of my youth).

The flavour was intense.

The company was …

… it’s coming to me …

Kwik Kopy!

Yes! That’s right: that’s what the K was for!

A little bag of red jelly Ks came with each Kwik Kopy print order delivered.

It was a mere handful, but the effect was profound.

Enough, even, to make a man forget his aversion to phonetic spelling.

Whenever these arrived in the design studio, we fell upon them like orphan zombies.

After a few sugar hits, I started hassling the Production Manager to use Kwik Kopy

all

the

time.

Mea Culpa

And so I stand before you, a corrupt and broken citizen.

Will you flay my flesh or sympathise with my human failings?

Maybe you have even more shocking tales to tell.

Don’t be shy; there’s a lot of it about.

To get you thinking, I’ve provided some interrogation questions (sorted in decreasing likelihood of you ignoring them).

Confess!

Have you (or anyone in your business) ever:

• Taken a bribe?
• Offered one?
• Seen one change hands?
• Been beaten in a pitch because of one?
• Suspected as much?
• Been tempted to ‘grease the rails’ in your favour?

For the record, I once considered bribing my ‘builder’ to do what I’d paid him to.

But since he already had all our money (plus a lot more that didn’t belong to us) I realised the effect would be negligible.

It’s now down to you.

Think carefully.

And tell all!

Paul Hassing, Founder & Senior Writer, The Feisty Empire

Blink and you may miss it.

Here’s a business tip I learnt the hard way:

If you get a gig, job, order, project, piece of work or commission, do it NOW.

If you don’t, it may not be there tomorrow.

For several reasons.

Unkind Cut

A large IT firm gave me 100 recruitment ads to critique.

I toiled for much of Easter, getting 50 done.

Then I rewarded myself with a couple of days off.

When my client returned to work, he found his budget slashed by overseas corporate masters.

He was forced to cancel the project.

He paid me for what I’d done, which was half of what I could’ve done, had I pressed on.

As this happened when I was just starting out, I felt the revenue loss keenly.

Mind Altering

I was asked to source radio jingles for an automotive firm.

I offered the job to Adam, who quoted $3000.

The client approved the quote and Adam pulled several all-nighters to write, perform and record some rippers in double-quick time.

But before I could send them to the client, she abruptly changed her mind and tried to cancel the project.

Fortunately, I still had her email approval, so we had her cold.

Had Adam waited a few days, he’d have missed out on a lucrative gig.

Off Balance

Of course, this hot-iron-striking advice flies in the face of all our warm fuzzies about taking care of ourselves in business.

We’ve had wonderful suggestions about negotiating realistic deadlines, operating within our limits, maintaining work-life balance and so on.

But as GFC II threatens, I wonder if we can afford to dawdle on such shifting sands.

Vexed issues are best handled by the fine minds that inhabit this space.

And so I put it to you.

Your View

When you get a piece of business, do you:

a)    Luxuriate in the prospect and do it as, and when, you see fit.

b)    Seize it as if it were your last meal on earth and devour it on the spot.

c)    Attend to it fairly smartly, but without unseemly haste.

d)    Handle it some other way (please describe).

?

The clock’s ticking.

Let’s get to work!

…

No?

…

How about later?

…

…

Never mind.

Paul Hassing, Founder & Senior Writer, The Feisty Empire

                                         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

                                                  Have you done your duty? 

Four years ago I was summoned for jury duty.

I’d always wanted to do my bit (and witness a court case).

But when the time came, my business couldn’t afford the income hit.

So I piked.

Testimony

This is what I wrote to the Juries Commissioner’s Office:

I am a self-employed sole trader who does not have anyone to fill in for me. This is my sole source of income and if I stop work, I will have trouble servicing my home and business loans. I can’t see this situation changing within 12 months as I don’t have time to train an understudy.

Rereading this, it seems rather plaintive (tee hee). Even pathetic.

Anyway, it worked.

Defence

Though my reasons were acute and genuine, I didn’t feel great about my decision.

Surely I wouldn’t be the first business owner to down tools for a case.

But what if that case went for three months? My Empire would be finished.

Prosecution

On the other hand, my absence meant one jury missed having a white, middle-aged, horse-loving, Capricorn hermit.

With me gone, how could that panel truly represent our diverse community?

Then again, perhaps I was a dangerous anomaly, best discarded.

But what if I were the only one to identify with the accused?

I could’ve been the sole voice of reason that swayed 11 souls.

And saved an innocent life.

Corporate Citizen

If you’ve a ‘real job’ in Corporate Land, jury duty can be a holiday.

Your employer holds the fort while you get paid time off.

You even score pocket money for each day’s expenses. 

Imagine the bliss of focussing on just one thing, instead of hundreds!

Then again, some firms don’t replace missing staff, making them catch up after court.

That would be tres unfun.

My Fault?

So I put it to you.

On the evidence presented, am I guilty of being more corporate than citizen?

What would you have done?

What have you done?

Has jury duty impacted your business?

If so, how?

If not, why?

We eagerly await your verdict.

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

                                      Fine in principle. What about practice?

Have you heard of the Pareto Principle (also called the 80-20 rule)?

It says that for many things, 80% of the results come from 20% of the causes.

In business, this means 80% of your revenue comes from 20% of your clients.

I’ve found this principle extremely useful.

But does it work for you?

Numbers Game

I run a spreadsheet that tracks all my business metrics.

So far this year, 80% of my revenue has come from 29% of my clients.

The last two years it was 36% and 30%.

I’m a bit off the pace, but this is because I’ve vigorously reduced risk by increasing and diversifying my client portfolio.

You may recall I lost one client worth 82% of my business and took two years to recover.

Talk about all your eggs in one basket!

I won’t do that again.

Tardy Performer

For years I encountered the Pareto Principle in almost every business book I read. But because it sounded technical, I resisted analysing my customers.

This was so dumb. Once I bit the bullet, it took all of ten minutes to collate the figures.

And jolly useful figures they’ve been, too.

Anger Management

When my top client annoys me, I check my spreadsheet.

If a retort imperils 28% of my income, I bite my tongue (and do something really nice for the client).

If, on the other hand, a 0.1% client is demanding freebies, refusing to do proper briefs and complaining about my work, I know I can ‘retire’ them with relative impunity. (And live a longer, happier life.)

Cents of Perspective

This year, my biggest client has spent almost 200 times more than my smallest.

I prize all client relationships. But next time I have conflicting deadlines, who do you think I’m going to squeeze in first?

Insights like this make the Pareto Principle a wonderful commercial ‘compass’.

The fact I was slow to embrace it makes me wonder if you’re tracking this vital stat.

If you are, I’d love to know how you use it and what you reckon.

If not, here’s a quick recipe for success:

Pareto Pronto

1. List your clients vertically.
2. Add up what they’ve paid this year and put each client’s total next to it.
3. Sort clients in descending order of value.
4. Calculate total revenue for all clients.
5. Express each client’s contribution as a percentage of this total.
6. Working down, see how many clients it takes to account for 80% of your revenue. (A cumulative column makes this a snap, if you know how to spreadsheet.)
7. Divide this figure by your number of clients.
8. Bingo! You now know what percentage of your clients generates 80% of your loot.

How did you go?

Is it close to 20%?

Do please let us know.

That way, we can all see if we’re rank amateurs

or principled performers.

Paul Hassing, Founder & Senior Writer, The Feisty Empire

                                       Do you have an attitude of gratitude?

Our robust cheque debate got me thinking.

When, if ever, should we thank our clients?

I’ll tell you what I do, so we can compare notes.

Giving Thanks

An associate once advised me to thank clients whenever they paid my invoices on time.

I liked this idea because it was:

• Polite.
• A way to reinforce positive behaviour. (Maybe.)
• A differentiator. (How many suppliers thank you for paying them?)

So I started giving thanks.

Thanks a Million

But I didn’t just thank clients for paying on time.

I thanked them for paying whenever the money came through.

I also thanked them for each new job, their continued custom, their referrals and even their newsletters.

This wasn’t a chore, as I genuinely like and respect my clients.

But after years of extreme gratitude, I began to wonder if I was overdoing it.

Thanks for Nothing

In applying my ‘shotgun’ approach, I was thanking some clients for paying me months later than my invoices stipulated.

Though happy for the cash (when it finally came) I was reinforcing tardy behaviour.

Thanks for Everything

At the other end of the spectrum, I was regularly thankful to switched-on clients who always paid on time.

But after several dozen sequential thank-yous, I was running out of ways to say it.

Were these clients getting sick of my sycophancy?

Thankless Task

I could always ask them, of course.

Yet I fear that doing so might call my sincerity into question.

And so I’m asking you:

• When do you thank clients?
• Under what conditions?
• Do you do it before, during, after … or all three?
• Do your customers like it?
• How do you know you’re not laying it on too thick?
• What, if anything, does giving thanks do for you?
• Finally … who, if anyone, thanks you?

Please give us your thoughts.

I’ll be forever grateful.

Paul Hassing, Founder & Senior Writer, The Feisty Empire

                                                   Do not collect $200.

Naomi asked how my end of financial year (EOFY) was going.

I reflected that it was rather less cheery than the current crop of pay TV ads.

The source of my ennui is a large sum of money which I’ve earned, but not received.

For the first time in Empire history, I’m thinking debt collection.

I wonder if I’m alone in this.

Belt up

When seatbelts became mandatory, my dad had a belt installation business.

One client owed him ten pounds – a lot of loot in those days.

After trying everything else, Dad hired a debt collector.

This burly but very quiet man had a big van emblazoned with DEBT COLLECTOR.

His non-violent approach was instructive.

He simply parked at the offending party’s front door – in full view of his neighbours – and waited.

Soon enough, the debtor appeared. Eventually, so did the ten pounds.

Dad got nine of them and was well pleased.

Collect call

A few months ago a debt collector cold-called to ask if I had outstanding invoices.

I didn’t, but now I do.

Then I got a business card in my letter box. I’m looking at it now. It says:

DCS. Debt Collection Services. We collect debts. That’s all we do.

Always a fan of clear, concise communication, I’m doubly impressed today. On the back it says:

Fast debt recovery. Email your problem debts to us for action.

I’ve just checked their website; their services look highly effective and seductively easy to invoke.

I’ll send them this post and invite their comments.

Collateral damage

Of course, summoning the cavalry will do little for client relations. Perhaps I should send another polite email.

That’s what I’ve always done; the money almost always turns up eventually.

I’ve had a few bad debts over the years, but the circumstances have been so hideous that I’ve preferred to walk away rather than squander more time and energy on the offenders.

But dollars seem more precious these days.

Worry wart?

Of course, this whole question could be academic.

Everyone could simply be holding off until the very end of the month.

By this time next week, I could be rolling in it.

And won’t I look silly?

Then again, maybe my clients are waiting to be paid by their clients, who are waiting to be paid by theirs.

We could all be in for a nasty knock-on effect.

Tough questions

How are you travelling as the year ends?

Are you waiting to pay or be paid?

Do you have advice or anecdotes?

I’ll be forever in your

debt.

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

Sorry about that title; only had time for a ‘quick once over’.

All the letters are there: the caps and spacing didn’t confuse, did they?

As a copywriter, I sometimes get quick once over requests. I wonder if you do too.

The request has three variations:

1. Just give it 15 minutes.

Some clients assess my work by what I keep, not discard.

Thus, if I spend an hour rendering two pages of crud into one perfect paragraph, they see 50 words and think Bargain!

If I were a surgeon, they’d say:

Look at that jar: it’s tiny! Why bill me for operating on my whole body when you only took out that little, bitty gallstone?!

2.  Just focus on the howlers.

An intelligent client may spend weeks crafting a pitch for a huge piece of business. She’s happy with her content and only wants me to flag the one or two bad errors I might find.

Though I invariably find dozens of small to medium errors that I know will undermine her pitch, brand (and even viability) she isn’t interested. She knows her writing is good. She gave it to me at the eleventh hour, as an afterthought.

If I were a crèche, she’d say:

We’re entering Emily in a national baby contest in four hours. I’m going home to change. Just keep her alive until I return. Only call if she goes blue or black; don’t worry about the peanut thing. I know my daughter.

3.  There’s only two hours in the budget.

I perfect communications via multiple processes. Spelling, punctuation, tone, cadence, readability and jargon are just the tip.

Numbers, fact accuracy, logical flow, legal compliance, audience suitability and consistency with branding and prior communications form the next level. Then there’s the optional humour, irony, academic and cultural references etc.

This deep thinking takes time.

So, if I get two hours to optimise 6000 not-very-good words, I must cut corners. Yet like a Rubik’s cube, my corners intertwine. Lose one, no cube.

If I were a builder, they’d say:

We need a safe, certified, 25-square home for $50K. Don’t forget the plumbing, wiring, plaster, painting, insulation, termite proofing and hurricane roofing. We’re in Darwin.

Time is money: I need it and I know clients aren’t made of it. I promise perfect communications: too-small budgets make this impossible. Yet I genuinely like my clients and want them to prosper.

I can’t let flawed work leave my desk. So I do three or four hours for the price of two. Just like the faeries.

How about you? Do you mow three hectares for the price of two? Install five workstations for the cost of three? Teach eight people for the fee of five?

If so, what’s your motivation?

1. Pride.
2. Love.
3. Money.
4. Other (please state _________ ).
5. All of the above.

Idlo VETOK Now!

Paul Hassing, Founder & Senior Writer, The Feisty Empire