Manizesto

There are two types of vacations: those that leave you rejuvenated and those that leave you exhausted. I will never understand why people choose to take vacations so crammed with activities, destinations, sites, shopping, shows and gluttony you come back to your busy life sapped and sluggish, needing, ironically, another break.

Actually, I do know why people do it. So they can say, “Oh, the Great Wall? Yes, I’ve seen it. Very large…you can see it from space!” Or “Sure, Costa Rica was nice, but there’s nothing like Barbados.” To brag, see? Because where is the glamor of telling your friends you went to the mountains and spent some time reassessing your life, truly letting go, and re-filling your reserve tank? Right. You have to leave that little showboating vessel vacant, put it on the shelf and forget about it. You must. But then you won’t even have any good photos to post of Flickr and Facebook.

So, you see, we fall into the trap of taking trips of the former sort, and get gray hair and heart disease instead.

Leave renewed, or leave exhausted. It is up to you.

All relationships have elements of polarizing irony. Think on this litmus test for proving the value of personal interactions:

“You have spent some time with this person, either you have a drink or go for dinner or you go to a ball game. It doesn’t matter very much but at the end of that time you observe whether you are more energised or less energised. Whether you are tired or whether you are exhilarated. If you are more tired then you have been poisoned. If you have more energy you have been nourished. The test is almost infallible and I suggest that you use it for the rest of your life.”
-Milton Glaser

So, you can put wrinkles on your face by pleasing every customer, or you can find the world’s best customers that leave you fulfilled.

You can cringe and work for someone or something you don’t like or you can choose not to.

You can guard to the death your secret recipe of 11 herbs and spices or you can share it openly with the world.

You can give a man a fish, or you can teach him how.

You can take 1,000 photos of 100 places, or you can see, experience and contemplate one place, and take no photos.

It is up to you.

I stab the brakes to shave off about 75% of my speed as I enter the corner, press in the clutch, throw it into second, then blip the throttle to about 3,500 RPM. The engine winds up eagerly, so I engage the clutch and get hard back on the throttle just at the apex of the corner. The tires complain a little but I don’t pull back. Then it’s Wolfgang Amadeus’ Marriage of Figaro Overture (the last 47 seconds, especially). Bliss. Powerful, incredible, overwhelming bliss.

When I leave Albertson’s with diapers, mayonnaise and an off-limits treat for myself, I drive the same route and experience bliss again. In my 2003 Civic.

And what of it? Am I not to live and experience the delectable oysters of life, even if they are small? True, I am not a racecar driver, and to my own dismay and humility, I’ve yet to master heel and toeing. Still, I know I will never, ever, be content navigating a lumbering 2-Ton SUV with an automatic transmission. Automatic!? It’s blasphemy!

And I cannot be alone in this hidden passion and secret fun upon which I occasionally feast.

Deja Vu is a magical, mysterious and sort of creepy part of life that sneaks ex nihilo right into your very conscience, plays around for a few seconds, then vanishes. As a chacho, I had deja vu many, many times, but I had to be 10 or 11 years old before I discovered there was actually a name for it.

It was so hard to describe and I never heard anyone else talking about it. So maybe deja vu was more like a small bed-wetting or a pair of mismatched socks on my feet, or maybe even sort of like Ryan Seacrest trying to high-five a blind contestant. It happens, but it’s too personal, mysterious and too unbelievable to be talked about openly. So best keep it to myself, else I turn out to be some sort of freak (Am I right Seacrest? Mmm?)

And then, finally, you dare to talk about it, in a, like, aloof sort of way, detaching yourself from the incident so as not to prick your pride. And someone takes note. And perks up a bit. And someone else overhears and blows it all into the open. Can open. Worms everywhere.

And boom. You are not a freak! It has a name! Behold, your normalness!

A very many of your customers have never heard of deja vu, or RSS, or SEM, or marketing ratio, or any other sort of jargon you’re used to speaking. Be sure to spell it out plainly, openly, communally, and without condescension. You will be glad you did.

Some panhandlers are extremely successful. What’s interesting is how their success translates to marketers like you and I. Aside from learning to communicate a message in just a few words - something everyone should learn to do, and a reason I like Twitter - they have figured out how to get people to take an action. That’s what all marketers want, right?

But what’s more, the action they take has no substantial payoff for the “customer”, the payment goes to an entity with which the “customer” has essentially no relationship or brand, and “customers” understand there’s a high chance the money will not be used very wisely. It’s every marketer’s dream! :)

Here are 6 approaches panhandlers take that you should too:

1. Blunt Object. “I’m not gonna lie, I need a drink.”
Marketing Version: You will save 5% on your next purchase.

Why it works: This is tell-it-like-it-is marketing. No fancy talk. No gimmicks. No strings attached. The honesty is refreshing, so people respond.

2. Vague promise w/ future benefit. “God Bless You.”
Marketing Version: Grow Your Business with our product

Why it works: Who wouldn’t want a blessing from God? Who wouldn’t want their business to grow? You’d be crazy not to want that. And all it takes is one small payment? Done and done!

3. Reverse Psychology. “Betcha can’t hit me with a quarter!”
Marketing Version: “Bet You can’t eat just one.”

Why it works: It worked when we were kids, and it still works, albeit in a more subtle way, today.

4. Sob Story. “Son in hospital. Stuck on the road.”
Marketing Version: Pablo is an orphan suffering from Malaria.

Why it works: Tugging at the heart strings brings out emotions which lead to action. Bonus - you feel like you’re doing something selfless (even though you’re not).

5. Specific Need. “Need .43 cents for bus pass. Please help.”
Marketing Version: You only need 84 more miles to become a Platinum Medallion Member.

Why it works: You’re setting clear expectations of what the customer has to do and what they’re receive in return.

6. Infomercial. “Will Work for Food.”
Marketing Version: You’ll get skinnier, for only $12.95/week.

Why it works: The promise is built up, followed by the price. I will do work for you; if you’ll just give me some food. There’s a reason infomercials don’t say “It costs $20, but you get something great!” Because you’ve positioned something with a known value (money) before something whose value you now have to prove afterward. It’s much, much easier to build up the value first, then show it only costs $20.

Bonus: Humor. “Ninjas killed my family. Need money for Kung-Fu lessons.”

Why it works: It make people feel good, and emotions are 90% of why we make purchases (the other 10% being rational).

BTW, most of these are actual signs held by actual panhandlers. You can see them here.

[More panhandling tips here.]