Hey Folks,
Welcome to a slightly tardy edition of the Hardworking words newsletter. I have no excuses (everyone I know who’s successful in business has the same attitude towards excuses that I do towards Justin Timberlake’s “Bringing Sexy Back” song: Annoying and lame and prone to making teenagers and housewives act badly). But as way of explanation: I’m in the middle of getting packed up and moved out to my new condo. So while I *really* would rather have spent time earlier this week cranking out the HWW goodness, I instead got to go through that particular kind of hand-cramping, mind-destroying hell that is signing mortgage docs.
Weird edition of HWW today.
Possibly because I’m tired. Which ties into what I’m going to talk about.
In today’s big issue, you’ll learn:
-War Through The Wall
- Real and practical advice on what to do if someone asks “Have you ever been shot before?”
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War Through The Wall
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It’s 6:15 in the morning and while I’d *like* to be sleeping, I’ve instead got a couple of massive purple bags bunched under my eyes (convenient since I still need to pack up some clothes) and a pounding, stabbing ache running through my head and down into my toes.
Why?
Because me and my soon-to-be ex-neighbor (heretofore referred to as MSTBEN) are engaged in a hearty “WAR THROUGH THE WALL.”
Now, I’ve never met my neighbor. I don’t know his name, his age, his race. I don’t know what he likes for dinner. I don’t even know what he looks like, what he sounds like or what kind of TV shows he uses to blast away the monotony.
The only things I *do* know about MSTBEN is that his bedroom and my bedroom share a wall, and that he *starts* to crawl his way out of bed and force his way to work (I imagine that he works at some sort of cacophonous canning factory and secretly pray for a debilitating if not particularly painful accident that will allow him to sleep late) around 5:45 every morning.
Starts.
The beeping often worms its way into my dreams. There I’ll be, out cold, having another one of those nightmares about waking up the day of my Calculus final and realizing I haven’t been to class all semester when, suddenly, air raid sirens blast their way across the “campus” of my mind, and my heart rate *rockets* north as I wait for the bombs to drop.
Now, if the alarm just went off briefly and MSTBEN then turned it off and got up, we wouldn’t have a problem. Not everyone’s lucky enough to have the slack schedule and alarm-free existence of a freelance word mercenary and strategic marketing wonk.
But apparently MSTBEN is a *very* deep sleeper.
Either that or he’s deaf.
Because while his alarm *starts* it’s incessant, maddening *beeping* at 5:45 AM, it usually doesn’t stop for somewhere around 1.5 hours.
*Beep* *beep* *beep* it goes, second after second, moment after moment as I lay awake, grind my teeth and imagine canning factory mishaps.
In my coming-on two years living in this apartment, I’ve tested a couple of different approaches to dealing with the problem:
Solution 1: *Ignore it.*
For a good chunk of time (especially in the winter when both our windows were closed) I just sort of ignored the problem. It was annoying, sure, but not so bad that I would actually *do* something about it. I sleep like a very sleepy log. I dealt with it no problem.
*Solution 2: *Mad, impotent rage.*
Eventually the charm of Solution 1 wore off. Like water in the Grand Canyon, the torrent of *beeps* wore away my good will (and my ability to sleep), leaving my lying in bed for hours on end with an angry storm brewing in my brain. I’ve got a pretty active imagination (oh, what will MSTBEN do when he gets to the canning factory and sees that it’s been taken over by aliens? Aliens who *beep*?) but ultimately solution 2 was less than satisfying.
Solution 3: *Action!*
Eventually the problem got so bad that I decided I had to *do* something about it. About two weeks ago, after building up my rageful gumption after suffering through the *beep* attack for a solid 45 minutes, I threw on some pants, stumbled out into the hall way and started using MSTBEN’s door as a canvas for an impromptu demonstration of the martial arts.
Eventually my *pounding* trumped MSTBEN’s *beeping.* He didn’t answer the door, but he did wake up and turn off the infernal machine.
Since then, MSTBEN and I have settled into something of a hateful, war-like rhythm. . . a “War Through The Wall” if you will.
Every morning at 5:45 his alarm goes off, *dragging* me from my slumber all angry and confused. I wait a few minutes, thinking maybe *this* will be the day he stops it himself. Then I shift around on my bed and *kick* the wall several times (I tried punching it once or twice, but it made my hand hurt and I need my fingers to make a living). Usually by the 8th or 9th kick, MSTBEN gets the point and hits *snooze.*
10 minutes later the alarm goes off again and we repeat the whole process until around 7:15 when, it seems, he finally gets up.
Solution 4: *Leave*
This is a new one that I’m going to try tomorrow. It involves spending *way* too much money to get into the Seattle real estate market and ceding the ground of my apartment to MSTBEN and whatever poor schlub ends up moving in next to him. I don’t feel like I’ve won the “War Through The Wall” but imagine once I settle into the new place and get to sleep straight through to the blessed lands of 8AM, I won’t care.
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Alright, Haddad. But what the heck does this have to do with marketing, copywriting or running a small business?
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Just this.
The problem that MSTBEN and I really have *isn’t* that he has to get up at a stupidly early hour. It’s not even that he’s, apparently, deaf (deaf or prone to sleeping as deeply as Dracula).
It’s that we’ve got this big wall between us (and that he refuses to answer his door.)
So instead of he and I being able to chat like adults, I get all angry, plot his demise at the canning factory (I’ve got this great fantasy about ex KGB sleeper agents versed in cold-war torture techniques) and, ultimately, take my big Tonka truck and go home.
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Which Is A Lot Like What I See Happen When Businesses And Their Customers Don’t Talk
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You see, my 4 “solutions” up above are a lot like the stages customers go through when they aren’t happy with your product, happy with your service or happy with your image out in the world.
* They ignore it.
* They get annoyed.
* A *select few* of them make a small effort to let you know they’re mad (the rest skip right to stage 4)
* And then they leave, and you find yourself wondering why your profits tanked and why your best customers just don’t come around no more.
So, my advice to you?
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Tear Down The Wall
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Set up a blog so you can get your side of the story out there, make it *easy* for your customers to voice complaints and realize that by the time you start hearing a *POUND POUND POUNDING* on your door a bunch of your customers are probably already gone, gone, gone.
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Have You Ever Been Shot Before?
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On a complete tangent: If a drunken, angry man outside Dick’s burger approaches you, offers you a beer cleverly concealed in an energy drink can and then fixes you with a steely gaze and asks “Have you ever been shot before?” the correct answer is “No. And I’m hoping to keep it that way.” Then maintain eye contact and a benign smile as the possibly-armed drunkard stumbles on his way.
That’s it folks.
Questions? Comments? Harsh invectives? Hit me at chris@haddadink.com
See you next month.
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About This Newsletter and Your Subscription
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©2007 Haddad Ink. Copywriting Services. All Rights Reserved.
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