BORDER'S PATROL

I was at the bookstore today. Usually, when I leave the bookstore, I try to exit with fewer questions than when I enter. Today, however, I almost made a scene.

Would someone like to tell me why Larry the Cable Guy’s book Git-R-Done was on the “Hot Literature” shelf at Border’s right next to Bradbury’s classic Farenheit 451? To go from Bradbury to Hillbilly so suddenly when browsing can cause dain bramage. See? I mean, when the books are placed on the “featured reading” shelf, should they not, at the very least, be separated by a book that acts as some sort of buffer between the two? Something not-quite-fart-joke, but not-quite-serious… Bill Cosby’s Fatherhood, perhaps?

Oh, and while I smack my head against the wall pondering the social implications of Ray Bradbury sharing shelf space with a guy from the Blue Collar Comedy Tour, can you recommend a good book to read? Seriously.

DEAR GOLF COURSE

Dear Golf Course:

I have quite a story to tell my friends about my recent experience at your club. Unfortunately, I don’t think it’s one you’d want me to share.

I had the itch this afternoon, so I ditched work and decided I’d drive the 30 minutes out of my way to play your course. I got there at about 1:35pm, and saw a sign on your pro shop door that said, “Closed for tournament till 2:00.” So I went inside to see how long it might be till I could get out. Here’s how it went down, verbatim:

Lady in the pro shop: “May I help you?” (No smile, no “hello” -- addressed me the way I address telemarketers who call my house during dinner)

Me: (smiling – I always smile when I’m at a golf course) “Hi! I was hoping to get out and shoot a quick nine this afternoon.”

She: “We’re closed until two for a tournament.”

Me: “Oh, people are still teeing off?”

She: “Well, no, they’re out on the course…”

Me: “Oh, they’re making the turn?” (it’s a 9-hole course, so to play 18 holes, you have to play 9 twice… so “making the turn” means going from hole #9 back to hole #1 to start the 2^nd half… Anyway…)

She: “No, they only have two or three holes left to play.”

Me: “So, if I teed off on #1, would I be in anyone’s way?”

She: “Well, I don’t have permission to open the course.”

Me: “Okay, well, in that case, I’m gonna go find someplace else to play.”

Yeah, I know, I could have played if I hung around for another twenty minutes. It would have taken me 15 minutes to pay, go back to the car, change my shoes, and get my clubs, and by then, we’d have been close to the 2pm mark. I still chose to leave. I felt unwelcome.

If your staff had invited me to hang around, practice on the putting green, hit a few at the driving range, or have a quick beer, I assuredly would have. If the lady in the shop had said, “Oh, I’m sorry. You’re a little early. Why don’t you get your clubs out of the car, and I’ll check with the manager to see when you can tee off,” I’d be telling a completely different story.

I like your course very much. It truly is one of the nicer places to play in the area. However, from the moment I came in, I felt denied. Please accept my apologies. I hope you’ll understand if I don’t return.

Regards,
Disappointed Duffer

This just happened to me, barely an hour ago. And I will send this letter, as soon as I’m done here. If I ever got a letter like this from a client, I would be positively mortified. Customer service, to me, is everything. As a business owner, I will do anything to accommodate a client. Not just because I want to help them, but because I know that the experience they take with them when they leave becomes a story they tell to everyone they talk to afterwards. That story then becomes the image of my business. And that image could be favorable, or not. I’d prefer it were. So I smile. I say thank you. I make people glad they called. And I try to give them a good story to tell.

NOISEMAKERS

I like the Beatles. My wife doesn’t. For reasons that have eluded me since I’ve known her, I don’t know why. Our debate rages on every time a song of theirs comes on. However, like ‘em or not, the Fab Four would be “Nowhere Men” (ouch… sorry about that), if they’d never played a note. Neither loved, nor hated. Just four lads from Liverpool.

Would a politician get elected, or even become a candidate, if he said nothing at all?

Would Richard Pryor be considered a genius if he never told a joke?

Would your baby have her diaper changed if she didn’t cry on occasion?

Would your broken toilet get fixed if you didn’t hear it running?

Would you wake up on time if the alarm didn’t ring?

People respond to noise, both pleasing and irritating. That’s the key: Whether it affects them positively or negatively, people respond. True, not everyone likes Richard Pryor. But like him or not, you gotta admit he was a revolutionary. Because the noise he made caused an emotional reaction from those who heard him. Maybe they laughed, maybe they bought his records, or maybe they got angry and walked out of the club where he was performing. But what most people didn’t do, was nothing.

As an advertiser, do you want your commercial to make people do nothing? Obviously not. An ad that doesn’t compel is an ad wasted. Compel me to buy. Compel me to call. Compel me to stop in. Compel me to complain. But make some noise – something that gets people to respond, in some way.

I promise you this: You’re gonna hear me making a lot more noise in the coming months.