Small Business Stories: Promoting in Person

 

I believe that every person who starts a business to do what they love will always and inevitably find themselves doing things they definitely do not love for that very same business.

I have resigned myself to the necessity of promotion.  What that meant today is that I smeared on eye liner, shoved on the tallest pair of heels I've worn since my wedding, and jumped in the car with a crumpled list of directions to retirement homes.

These non-writing errands were not the kind of things I had in mind when I started Memories in Print.  As hard to believe as it may be, I didn't have a burning ambition to walk across pitted parking lots in black pumps, to trade jokes with nursing home receptionists, or play awkward phone tag with activity directors at nursing homes.  But that's the stuff I did today.

When I started this, I did it for the people and the stories: for the chance to interview in great length and depth, for the joy of writing true and beautiful anecdotes, to learn and preserve the buried little wisdoms every person has.

But, unfortunately, the catch is that if no one knows what I do, no one will hire me.  That means no stories, no writing, and no money.  So this promotion thing is a means to an end I want (the interviewing and writing); a necessary evil, I would call it.

So, today, me and my new black heels drove all over town and found our way into 6 different retirement homes.

I would've preferred to sit cross-legged in my desk chair and make phone calls to those places instead.  That would've been easier, and would've taken less time.  I wouldn't have had to use the gas to get there.  I wouldn't have rubbed my heels raw, been forced to shave my legs, or even to shower.

But I knew I had to go in person, because of this one story my mom told me:

My mother spent a few years working part-time at Barnes & Noble.  One night, a few months after getting the job, she saw her manager shuffling a thick stack of papers - a week's worth of job applications.  

"Jerry," she said, "If you always get that many applications, why in the world did you end up hiring me?  I had absolutely no experience." 

"Well, did I meet you?" he asked. 

"Yes - I came in and turned it in in person, and you happened to be here when I did." 

"That's why," he said.  "I must've met you and liked you, so that's why I hired you."

I thought about that last night while chewing my nails and looking up the assisted living homes closest to where I live.  And I decided the top two things for my Wednesday agenda were: (1) buy black pumps (2) wear black pumps while personally promoting my business.

Not including the blister on the outside of my right ankle, I don't know how much I have to show for my day.        I was never in any one place more than ten minutes, and I only ever interacted with the receptionists and a few retirees sitting outside in their rocking chairs.  And, physically, all I have to prove my visits are six little business cards, each with the name of the activities director or resident services director or executive director that I need to call and follow up with (yes, even though I went in person, I still have to make the phone calls).  Bottom line for today, I laid groundwork and gained nothing: no contracts, no meetings, no promises or prospective clients.

But at least now I know who to ask for when I call.  And for every business card I received, I gave back my own business card and a brochure - a physical reminder that ends up (hopefully) on someone's desk.

And even if I never saw a single director, I made myself a face and a person - not just a voice on the phone to be transferred - to each receptionist I met.  A couple of them were even engaged enough to look through my sample book.  One receptionist named Terri even promised to write a detailed e-mail to her director to better describe the book to her.  I think Terri even liked me.

And maybe (hopefully) that'll be enough to get me hired.