You’ll get a kick out of this.

About once a month, I receive a phone call from someone in the food services industry – usually the owner of a restaurant – who wants to know if I can come over and fix a malfunctioning piece of equipment.

It’s typically regarding a broken oven, but I’ve had calls for grills, frialators and walk-in refrigerators too.

Why food services people? Well, for reasons that remain a mystery, my company is erroneously listed on a number of yellow pages directories as being in the “Restaurant Equipment Repair Services” business.

Now don’t get me wrong; I’m not complaining.

For one thing, I take it as a tribute to my marketing panache that on these web sites, my fictitious restaurant repair business is somehow listed ahead of several apparently legitimate concerns.

Second, I have to admit that those restaurant-related calls are kind of an amusing distraction. Sometimes, in fact, when I’m feeling a little bit impish, I’m tempted to play along and begin troubleshooting the problem over the phone.

I envision asking an assortment of increasingly specific but nonetheless meaningless questions, things like, “What percent of your pizzas are pepperoni?,” or “By any chance, is your chef left-handed?”

In the extreme, I confess that I’ve even wondered to myself if I should just grab my toolbelt, drive over to the establishment in question, and start poking around. Who knows, maybe with a few hours of web surfing before I leave and a little bit of luck, I might discover an easy fix.

Ok, I know, pretty ridiculous.

Fun to talk about, but we all know that if this were to play out in real life, it would be a disaster. The restaurant would be unhappy with the results. I’d be stressed about the lousy job I was doing and the time it was taking. I might have a client, but I wouldn’t have a profession.

I hope you’ve guessed where I’m going with this.

Because while my made up scenario is extreme, in principle, it’s not that far off from what a lot of professional service providers do: offering services they’re not that good at to prospects whose only client qualification is “money in hand.”

Ouch. If you ask me, that situation feels about as sustainable and comfortable as sitting on a recently repaired commercial grill.

So I have a better idea. What if you were to:

1. Spend some time figuring out what you’re really good at. Not the package and price of what you sell (that happens later). I mean the skills, interests and natural gifts that really (truly) set you apart.
   
   Maybe you have a knack for simplifying data.
   
   Maybe you have an ability to see what other people can’t see.
   
   Maybe you’re unmatched when it comes to writing useful, witty, short format business communications (the kind that are so good, people hardly notice your odd creepiness).
   
   The point is, step one is taking the time to put your finger on whatever it is that you’re the master of.

2. Step two is only doing step one.

Pretty scary, I know. After all, you need more work. So right now, until you “get on track,” you’re willing to do anything that comes your way – even if what comes your way is a guy with a broken pizza oven.

The problem is, that approach is a self-perpetuating distraction. Doing hard, unfulfilling work for people who are only marginally satisfied (sometimes referred to as “a job”) is more than just drudgery … it keeps you from ever getting to where you want to be.

Instead, I’m suggesting you stop doing work that you are simply capable of and focus on the opposite, equally self-perpetuating side of the equation, by doing…

… work that involves projects you love.

… work that pays you good money for ease instead of effort.

… work that impresses clients to the point where they think you’re one of a kind and quite possibly magical.

Where do you find that work? It lives in #1 above.

The room filled with all the things you want as a solo professional – happy clients, personal fulfillment, plenty of money, a feeling of having found your calling – is behind the door called “Only do things you’re obscenely good at.”

Here’s the bottom line. One of the many great things about working solo is that you get to choose what you do … and what you don’t do.

But I don’t mean someday, I mean right now.

Because in my experience, the freedom to choose isn’t the reward for one day becoming “successful.” One day becoming successful is the result of choosing freely every day.

Today’s Insightful Insight is easy, obvious and, as marketing activities go, unbelievably effective.

So naturally, hardly anyone does it.

Click the video below for three reasons why sending handwritten thank you notes is a powerful tool for growing your business.

A handy tip for making the most of the press coverage your business receives.
(To view Part I, click here!)

For reasons that will become obvious in a minute, I didn’t play football in high school.

Reason number one: I’ve never understood the appeal of deliberately running into other humans.

Reason number two: In terms of body type, I was officially classified as, “too skinny to even watch safely.”

Reason number three (as if you need more convincing): When I was a kid, organized football was completely off my radar.

I never attended a professional or college game (still haven’t) and I’m not exaggerating when I tell you that in all the years of growing up, I don’t remember ever seeing anyone in my house, under any circumstances, watching football.

And so I can’t really explain why, in the last year or two, I’ve developed the very satisfying habit of watching my local team – The New England Patriots – play every Sunday night.

All I know is that it’s exciting to watch, the perfect sport for television and, thanks to the wonders of TIVO and digital recording, something that doesn’t take a lot of time when I sit down each week.

A couple of weeks ago, however, I got a late start. Even fast-forwarding through the commercials, by the time halftime rolled around, it was waaaaay past my bedtime.

So I figured I would just call it a night and finish up the next evening. Provided … I could manage to not hear the outcome during the course of the following day.

Not as easy as it sounds here in sports-crazed New England:

• 6:00 AM: The alarm goes off. The guy on the radio starts reading the news. About 20 seconds into it I realize what’s happening and yell to my wife, Linda: “Turn it off, he’s going to give the score!”

• 7:30 AM: I get to the gym. A very dangerous place, sports score-wise. TVs everywhere; newspapers in the lobby; guys in the locker room chatting. I keep the headphones on and my head down.

• 9:00 AM: I arrive at my local coffee shop. Again with the newspapers – there’s a big rack of them directly in front of the counter. I refuse to look down while placing my order, prompting the cashier to wonder what I’m staring at above her head.

You get the idea.

But somehow, some way, I manage to make it all the way through the day, never hearing a peep about the game and ultimately enjoying my tape-delayed second half.

All in all, a very strange experience.

Because it occurred to me – as I kept the radio turned off in my car, steered clear of all social media and locked my office door so the mailman couldn’t spill the news – that most of us, most of the time, do exactly the opposite.

What I mean is that rather than systematically trying to avoid a particular piece of information, we spend a good part of our waking hours looking for specific solutions to immediate problems:

• We need to find a car to replace the one that just died.     
• We need to choose a service to back up our data.      
• We need to buy a new sink fixture to replace the one we broke over the weekend while trying to fix a simple leak that in hindsight should have just been left alone and have it installed and functioning before our wife Linda’s book club Thursday night.

Problems, big and small, that need solving now.

I mention all this because when it comes to describing what you do – on your web site or elsewhere – it’s in your best interest to package it up into a clearly defined, tangible solution to a problem … something that a prospective client is already on the hunt for and can recognize.

Most professionals, however, don’t do this. They talk about their qualifications. They talk about their methodology. They talk about their experience, their commitment, their client focus.

All important stuff, absolutely.

But none of it is what I’m looking to buy. The only reason I may care about your qualifications, experience, methodology, etc., is in support of something I can purchase to solve my current problem.

And yet when I get to your web site, while it’s overflowing with professionalism and heady tales of your capability, there is nothing explicitly for sale.

It’s as if I brought you into the kitchen of my restaurant, introduced you to the chef, talked about the quality of the oven and showed you the ingredients. And then I said: “Based on all this, what should we make you for dinner?”

I’m no culinary expert, but it seems to me that when presented with a hungry customer, having a menu with predetermined food choices is going to move things along more quickly.

With that in mind, I invite you to have a look at the marketing programs I offer on my site. Three things I draw your attention to there, as you think about and construct your own “service menu:”

1. Every program has a name.
   
   Why? Because tangible things have names. It makes your services feel fully baked. It suggests that you’ve done this before.

2. Every program has a list of “things you get.”
   
   Why? Because it helps people visualize the process. It helps them know, beyond simply “engaging your services,” what they’ll receive in return for their money.

3. There are just a handful of things to choose from.
   
   Why? Because presenting me with 15 options is only slightly better than giving me a tour of the kitchen – either way the burden is on me to make sense of your ingredients.
   
   When you give people just a few choices, you simplify the buying process. You make it easy for me to think about how you might help.  

Here’s the bottom line. Nobody wakes up thinking they need an experienced marketing consultant, or a trusted life coach, or a committed financial planner.

They do, on the other hand, wake up thinking they need “more clients,” or “help getting through my divorce,” or “a smart way to save for retirement.”

If you can package your capabilities into simple, buyable chunks that line up with what prospects are searching for, I guarantee you’ll sell a lot more dinners.

A new farm stand / grocery store opened in my town yesterday.

That’s relatively big news, given that in doing so, they have literally doubled the number of local places where you can buy a quart of milk, pick up a dozen eggs or push around a squeaky-wheeled, metal carriage.

They’ve also expanded the job market in town, something which did not go unnoticed by my 15-year-old daughter, Emily, and dozens (hundreds?) of her fellow Hopkinton High School classmates. Many of them applied for a job back in October.

Unfortunately, just a few weeks ago, most of the kids – Emily included – were turned down. Perfectly understandable; you can’t hire everyone.

But that’s not what I want to talk with you about.

It’s not that they didn’t hire most of the kids – it’s the way they didn’t hire them: They sent out form rejection letters. In doing so, they walked right past a colossal opportunity.

Think about this. Let’s say 100 kids applied, most of whom, I’d wager, are now feeling somewhere between “slightly grumpy” and “completely indifferent” at having been turned down. Not bad, no harm done.

But what if, instead of simply “not doing harm,” the grocery store turned this job rejection situation into … a marketing opportunity (cue dramatic music)?

In other words, while from an operational perspective these kids are:

“100 people we need to turn down nicely,”

from a marketing perspective, they represent:

“100 money-spending, food-consuming humans who live in a two-(or more) person household right here in town and who have a demonstrated awareness and interest in our business.”

Do you throw these warm, already-predisposed-to-like-you, business leads whose name and address you have, back into the ocean of strangers, hoping that maybe one day they’ll wander in again?

Or, do you do a few things to cement the relationship?

(I hope you realize those were rhetorical questions.)

Things like, I don’t know…

• Sending a personal “sorry we couldn’t hire you right now” note to each kid with a store-branded USB drive and a coupon for a free anything in the coffee shop.

• Inviting the 100 who applied to a special, “applicants only” pre-opening event with refreshments, a group photo and an in-person thank you from the owners.

• Holding a contest for the best song or drawing or haiku about the new store and giving the winner’s family a year’s supply of free tomatoes (or whatever).

Here’s the point. Most businesses – of any size and of any type – view marketing as an activity done by certain people, with certain job responsibilities, in certain situations.

You revamp your web site … that’s marketing. You attend a networking meeting … that’s marketing. You publish a newsletter … that’s marketing.

All true.

But the way I look at it, everything you do that is visible to the outside world is marketing. (Go ahead, read that sentence again.)

You’re marketing when you take five minutes to reply (or not) to an e-mail question from a stranger. You’re marketing when you miss a deadline. You’re marketing when you send client invoices. And yes, you’re marketing when you turn down job applicants.

Everything you do in public view has the potential to make me more predisposed to talk about and hire you, less predisposed or neutral.

Which means that if you think marketing only happens when “you’re marketing,” you’re leaving a lot – a lot of clients, a lot of opportunity, a lot of money – on the table.

Here’s the bottom line. I have no doubt that over the next several months, that new store is going to spend thousands in local media, in the hope of getting my attention and that of my neighbors.

They may succeed.

But I can think of 100 teenagers who could have guaranteed it.

For once, I’m going to get right to the point: Check out PhotoStamps.com.

In a sentence, it’s an inexpensive way to cleverly brand your snail mail without getting envelopes printed.

And it’s kind of fun to have personalized stamps.

To see me open an envelope and then continue speaking for several seconds before realizing that some of it is stuck on my arm, watch this entertaining video.

P.S. I’m a PhotoStamps.com affiliate, which means if you buy anything there, they pay me. In stamps, I’m guessing.

I could be wrong, but it seems to me that if you’re selling a professional service, you’re going to be most convincing when you “walk the talk,” modeling the behavior you claim to teach.

If you’re a personal trainer, you should be in great shape.
If you’re a financial planner, you should balance your checkbook.
If you’re an E-Newsletter consultant, not only should you be good-looking, your E-Newsletter should stand as a prime example of what works best.

Which is why you’ll be happy to learn that after reviewing my E-Newsletter System the other day – a product so filled with useful insights and good examples that when I was done rereading it, I insisted on writing a check to myself for $197.00 – I found that I pretty much follow my own advice.

Pretty much. Because I realized that there is one particular area in which I knowingly and willfully ignore my own suggestions: E-Newsletter Subject Lines.

As I’ll explain in a minute, when it comes to the subject line – the short phrase that is visible in the recipient’s in-box – there’s a best way to do these.

But I don’t follow this best way. Not because I don’t want the maximum number of people to open my newsletter, but because I can’t seem to stop myself from sacrificing effectiveness for the sake of coming up with a catchy title.

So I end up with things like “Singing in the Rain,” or “What a Difference a Difference Makes,” or “Hairy Party to You.” Clever? Maybe. But cryptic and lacking any real indication of what’s to be found within.

As a practical matter, that’s a problem. Our newsletter subscribers get lots and lots of e-mail; they’re constantly deciding what to open, what to save for (maybe) later and what to delete.

So when your E-Newsletter arrives in someone’s in-box, not only do you want them to recognize that it’s from you, you want them to put it in the “open now” category.

A good subject line – like a good headline on the front page of a newspaper or the outside of a magazine – entices people to read further.

Consider the following four, sample subject lines:

Blue Penguin’s Newsletter
Tips for Improving Newsletters
5 Tips for Increasing Newsletter Open Rate
5 Mistakes That Will Kill Your Newsletter Open Rate

I think you’ll agree that the second is more compelling than the first, the third more than the second, and the fourth most of all (still with me?).

Three things that make it so (and that I recommend you use in crafting your own subject lines):

1. Specificity. The first example doesn’t tell me anything other than who it’s from. Using this approach, the subject line of this issue, the next issue and every issue until the end of time will be exactly the same. Kind of like Stephen King calling his next book, My Next Book. Nothing here that makes you want to go further.
    
   The second example is a little more specific (better), but the third and fourth are even more so, making them both more compelling.

2. Numbers. I don’t really know why this is (please share below if you do), but apparently it’s been well tested that numbers in headlines – odd numbers in particular – are very effective in drawing people in.
    
   Next time you’re in the supermarket check-out line, have a look at the magazines in the rack and note how many use numbers in the headlines on the outside cover. “7 Last Minute Lipstick Tips;” “5 Times U Shouldn’t Text Him;” “101 Things to Love About Middle-Aged Bald Men.” (Of course I just made that last one up; I can’t image there’s more than a few of dozen.)

3. Negatives. If I say “Here are some things you should do regarding X,” you might pay attention. But if I say instead, “Here are some things you should never do regarding X,” you’re even more likely to listen – you want to make sure you’re not already doing any of those things.
    
   While I don’t suggest you do it every time, phrasing your subject line (or white paper or presentation, for that matter) as a warning, is again, more likely to grab attention.

Here’s the bottom line. When it comes to creating an effective newsletter, I put subject lines somewhere in the middle of the list: not the most important thing, but certainly worth paying attention to.

And whether you decide to follow in my playful footsteps or instead do something more deliberately strategic, it’s worth giving some thought to how you show up in your reader’s in-box.

My son Evan is a freshman this year at Rhodes College in Memphis. (School motto: We’ve never heard of you either.)

For me, having a child in college is turning out to be a déjà vu-ish experience: It seems that the older my kids get, the more vivid are my own memories of having lived through the same things.

So when they entered kindergarten, for example, it wasn’t particularly reminiscent of anything for me (I have few memories of my earliest years). But college? … I remember my first semester like it was yesterday.

In my case, yesterday was 1978, when I was enrolled at McGill University in Montreal. Great people (what’s not to like about Canadians?), great beer (ditto) and a seemingly never-ending parade of parties, social events and beer (did I already mention the beer?).

But even now, nearly 35 years later, one thing in particular stands out as the highlight of that first semester: Bruce Springsteen came to play at the Montreal Forum.

I’d seen Springsteen in New York the previous June, so I knew first hand that his concerts were well worth attending. Unfortunately, I wasn’t the only one with that point of view.

The city was buzzing with the news, and it quickly became clear that the only way to ensure a decent ticket was to be waiting at the Forum box office when it opened at 8am the following week.

So I got together with a bunch of friends and, after a not inconsiderable amount of debate, we scientifically determined that we needed to be in line by 6pm the day before. We divvied up the 14 hours of coverage and each took a shift standing out on the freezing sidewalk.

But it was worth it. Because when the next day rolled around, I had floor seats to the hottest show of the year.

Think about what happened: I rearranged my schedule; I stood outside for two hours in the freezing cold; I paid a lot of money for a ticket. And … I couldn’t have been happier. I felt fortunate for the opportunity to purchase a ticket.

And that’s my point. Because if you ask me, Springsteen is the model for all of us who sell a professional service.

We don’t want to be doing work we hate with people we don’t like. We don’t want to be constantly defending our fees. We don’t want to cross our fingers, hoping someone – anyone – will pick us out of the generic pile of people who offer the exact same services we offer.

No. We want to be Bruce Springsteen.

We want prospective clients waiting in line for when the doors open; rearranging their schedules for when we’re available; and happily bragging to their friends that they “scored a ticket” to see our show.

So how do you do it? I can’t tell you for sure because I don’t claim to be there – but I do claim to be trying. Here’s what I’ve learned so far:

1. Only do work that you’re exceptionally good at. I know, it’s tempting to take anything you can get, especially when you need the money. But that blurs your focus and the mediocre results water down your reputation.
    
   Ever met anyone who attended a lousy Springsteen show? Me neither. That’s because he doesn’t perform jazz or country or any of a thousand other genres he might get away with in the name of earning a little more money. He does what he does well, and nothing else.

2. Stop copying your peers. It’s fine to check out the competition, but if you start mimicking them, all you do is blend in in the eyes of potential clients.
    
   You and I need to be doing the opposite. We want to set up our respective practices and offerings in such a way that if we don’t do the work, there’s no reasonable alternative. Springsteen doesn’t have an understudy … either you get him, or there’s no show.
    
   Prospects who see you as the only option are less inclined to shop around, less inclined to haggle over price and nearly always happier with the final outcome.

3. Lose the “employee mindset.” Most people in most jobs know that if they leave, there’s 100 others who can step in and do the work just as well. That’s fine for people who get a weekly paycheck.
    
   But if you expect someone to wait out in the cold overnight and be happy before, during and after they write you a check, you need to first believe in yourself. People who hire you aren’t doing you a favor – they’re willingly exchanging their money for the value that only you can provide (see 1 and 2 above).
    
   So stop talking, writing and behaving like an out of work employee hoping for the next break. Be the world class rock star that we both know you are and the prospects will start believing it too.

I held onto that Springsteen ticket stub for years before finally losing it in a move somewhere along the way.

But the business lesson from that concert is as clear now as it was 35 years ago: If the services you provide don’t offer at least an occasional shot at earning you a cheering, screaming, standing ovation, you’ve still got work to do.

P.S. For my fellow Springsteen watchers (BRUUUUUUCE!), I strongly recommend checking out the fabulous, weekly blog of my college friend and fellow concert-goer that night, Rick Shea. His “Friday Bruce Fix” never fails to find the gems and hit the high notes.

No offense, but by the looks of you, I can see that you’ve been on Earth for some time now. 

As a result, you probably know quite a few people, many of whom possess valuable information, particularly regarding trusted professionals and companies they’ve come to rely on.

Wouldn’t it be great if you could easily query these people whenever you needed a recommendation to one of these resources?

Indeed it would be, which is why some smart person invented LinkedIn Answers, a free feature built into LinkedIn that helps you ask questions of up to 200 people in your network, all at once.

Think about that. Instead of just Googling “Political Campaign Strategist in Massachusetts” or “Giant Python Attic Removal” (not that I’m suggesting that those two searches are in any way related) and then having to sort through all the responses, why not ask the people you already know who they might recommend? 

I’ve used LinkedIn Answers in this way on several occasions for recommendations on, among other things, finding a tech support company, a travel agent familiar with Panama and a graphic artist. 

Intrigued?  I don’t blame you.  For a step by step guide to using LinkedIn Answers, watch my two-minute, 39-second video.

I have to confess, now that my youngest child is nearly a teenager, I often find myself nostalgic for the days when the kids were diaper-wearing toddlers.

Of course that’s a complete lie. I don’t miss those days at all, other than, perhaps, for the fact that gasoline was two dollars a gallon and my house was still considered a valuable asset.

But the thing I don’t miss the most was having to jump up and get out of bed the instant one of the kids woke up. Today, in fact – and yes, I am bragging – our kids wake up and get out of bed in the morning before we do!

Here’s our approximate weekday sequence:

• 6:00 AM: My 12-year-old son, Jonathan, gets up and takes a shower in the hallway bathroom.

• 6:10AM: As a means of both avoiding Jonathan and the swampy grotto he’s busily creating, my 15-year-old daughter, Emily, comes into our bathroom to get ready.

• 6:20 AM: I pretend I don’t hear my wife Linda telling me to get up.

• 6:25 AM: I get out of bed, knock on the bathroom door and, once granted permission, walk in briefly to grab my bathrobe from the hook.

And that’s where today’s newsletter really begins. Because for some time now, during the five seconds it takes me to walk in and reach for my robe, I tell Emily one line of an ongoing story.

To call these stories nonsensical is beyond generous. They are idiotic, usually involving some kind of animal (like a mouse or a bear) and some food item (like a cookie).

Here’s a representative sample:

Monday: “Hearing a noise, the mouse grabbed the cookie and turned towards the door.”
Tuesday: “Oddly, there was nobody there … and yet someone – or something – had made a sound.”
Wednesday: “‘Perhaps just the wind,’ thought the mouse, foolishly.”

And so it goes. I don’t know how long we’ve been doing this, but I have noticed two things:

1. It’s really hard for me to remember, from day to day, where the story last left off. (I briefly considered writing it down, but that seemed like way too much effort.)

2. To the extent Emily enjoys this at all, she only does so if the line of the day is clever and/or interesting. In other words, she doesn’t keep track of the storyline either.

Believe it or not, your newsletter works the same way:

It’s extra effort on your part to have your topics follow a logical sequence AND … even your most engaged and loyal readers won’t care or remember anyway. Like Emily, all they want is something useful and interesting each time you show up (hopefully not in a bathrobe).

Instead, keep these things in mind:

• At their best, your newsletters represent an ongoing conversation, not chapters in a book.
   
  And so while it makes sense – and I recommend – coming up with a big list of topics when you begin publishing, that’s really just to get you started. Your most memorable issues will be those in which you notice something – in your work or in your industry – and are able to comment on or explain that something’s relevance from the perspective of the experienced expert that you are.

  Insights, not information.

• Redundancy is not a big problem.
   
  When writing their newsletter, lots of people are overly concerned with “saying something I said before.” My recommendation? Don’t worry about it.

  First, because practically no one other than you will remember what you said and when you said it. And second, to the extent someone else does (you should be so lucky), they’ll simply think of you as someone with a consistent point of view.

  Am I saying it’s okay to tell the same story again or make the same point in the same way over and over? Am I saying it’s okay to tell the same story again or make the same point in the same way over and over? No. That’s boring.

  What I’m suggesting is that overlap in the things you believe, love, distrust, object to, etc., is to be expected. That’s what having a consistent point of view leads to.

• Order doesn’t matter.
   
  For all the reasons mentioned above, the order in which you cover information is unimportant. Instead, I recommend picking topics based on what’s most interesting/pressing/controversial today.

  If it’s on your mind, based on what’s happening all around you, it’s on the minds of your readers too. Take advantage of the immediacy of e-mail and be as timely as you can in deciding what to write.

Here’s the bottom line. If you’re looking for a metaphor which describes great E-Newsletter writing (and who isn’t?), I recommend the “business lunch.”

It’s friendly, it’s relevant, it’s timely. It doesn’t matter what you talked about last time and other than a general impression of the other person (good or bad), you probably don’t have much memory for the specifics of the conversation.

Write your newsletter like that and even your teenagers will pay attention.

P.S. Post your “one line” for the next segment of the Emily story above in the comment section below for all the world to see. (I reserve the right to use it tomorrow morning.)