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I receive a number of offers weekly from people who want to speak at my networking events, give their advice to my mastermind groups or co-lead programs with me. The suggestions are worded something like, “If you ever need a speaker” or “I have great expertise in _____, and would be happy to share it with your group” or “If you’d like me to offer ____ during one of your sessions…” I delete them pretty quickly.
Following up would involve me thinking of who might need their particular expertise, shape a session around that or extend a program to suit their needs. The work is all on my shoulders, and I’m pretty busy.
What stood out for me last week was an offer I couldn’t refuse. A woman who attended one of my Create Your Own Future programs several years ago is proposing to serve as my West Coast ambassador. She wrote me a detailed email outlining what she could foresee contributing, the steps she would take and the possible outcomes. It was irresistible. We’ll have a conversation about this on Friday afternoon.
It reminded me of a deal I made with a local shop in my area that was one of my best sales ever. I proposed that we use the store’s beautiful, private upstairs dining area as a space for one of my mastermind groups. I would provide the leadership and a seat at the table for this proprietor. She would contribute the room as well as market it to her client base. We would split the proceeds 60% (my take), 40% (her share). She signed on instantly.
See the difference? The what’s-in-it-for-her was clear as a bell. Plus, the only work involved on her part was recruiting women to participate, which in her particular shop was easy as pie.
If you see a match for your services/products and a potential buyer, do the homework. Figure out exactly what your contribution would be and how it would benefit the prospect. The best part of creating this kind of an offer is that once you take the time and energy to make it so tempting, you will be well on your way to enthusiastically marketing it on a broader basis.
I received an unusual offer today to participate in a job fair at the Danbury Correctional Institution. The educational director who placed the call talked about the need to help women prepare for the job market assisting with resume writing and interviewing skills.
I quickly explained that I am all about helping women start and run their own businesses. My goal is to help women become independent not only financially, but also professionally–to be the charters of their own course.
He went on to say that actually many of the prisoners have talked about the dream of owning and operating their own companies. Would I be willing to share my expertise with them?
I have to admit that this has given me pause. It is not my usual demographic, but there is something intriguing and rewarding about considering helping this population succeed. I will run it by my mastermind group which meets tonight for their thoughts. I’m leaning towards participating.
I mentioned it to my younger daughter Laura. When she said she would be willing to come with me, I leaned more in the direction of saying yes.
I’d be interested in hearing from any of you who may have experience in helping women in this way.
Okay, okay. I know I’m going to convert, but first, as is my way, I need to kick and scream, whine and complain. Forgive me. (I’d be interested in how you take on challenges that are daunting.)
I have committed to becoming savvy about twitter and facebook (LinkedIn can wait–sorry, Linds) and socializing via blog comments. Ugh. Here’s what distresses me. Maybe if I write down all these things, I’ll move on.
Visually I hate the way it all looks. Remember, I spent 30 years coloring in between the lines. (How could I pass up showing my art form on Good Friday?)
I loved the precision of my artwork, how beautifully contained the colors were, and how nicely things lined up and fit together. When I go to comment on someone’s blog, all I see is MESS. Too many options. Too much distraction. No central focal point. Didn’t anyone teach these techies about composition?
Then, I think, how will I ever get noticed, get heard above the noise? If there are already 112 comments in the queue, what possible difference is mine going to make?
I understand that using twitter poorly is frowned upon in the twittersphere. I promise to learn the etiquette and behave appropriately. But, when I tried tweetdeck there was so much noise and constant beeping that I unplugged it in frustration. Plus, all those #’s and bit.ly addresses make me crazy. I don’t know who to follow or why. There’s just too much of everything to sort through. Plus, it seems that anytime I want to find out a piece of information, I’m being sent someplace else. I’ve already forgotten where I was and how I ended up six degrees away.
Because my grown children are using these media effortlessly, I know it’s not genetic. But then, my son Robert was always able to do his homework while sitting in the living room with the TV at full blast and family activity all around. I grew up and studied by finding the most remote carrel in the library. When Macon Leary, the protagonist in Anne Tyler’s Accidental Tourist, got into his car he would turn off the radio and say to himself, ‘They’re playing my song.’ I still adhere to the adage, Silence is Golden.
The survival of the fittest rules, and I will survive by adapting, even though it’s duly challenging the concrete sequential soul inside of me. I’m too committed to running a successful business to not pay attention to social media. I’ve already taken several classes and attended talks as a way to get my feet wet. There was a highly regarded child-rearing book out when my kids were growing up called How to Talk So Kids Will Listen & Listen So Kids Will Talk. I want a version called How to Teach Baby Boomers to Tweet So They Will Want To. Anyone?
What I know I will do, as I did with starting this blog nearly two years ago, is continue to moan and groan as I sloooooowly put the puzzle pieces together in a way that makes sense to me. I will keep up my self-talk (“Jane, you’re smart and persistent. You will get this and be successful at it.”) I will take more classes and try and fail a few hundred more times on my own until I get it. Until it’s in my bones. And I will quit complaining. Promise!
