THE POWER OF DECENCY

I bought a car yesterday.  It was an emergency purchase required by my old car dying a painful death.

So, I wanted to buy a USED (anyone who’s been in 7 car accidents before the age of 30 does not buy new) car.  Specifically, an automatic Volkswagen Beetle with a moonroof with under 80,000 miles on it.  Year irrelevant, so long as it fit within budget.  And time was, you know, of the essence.

I was just going to go to the dealerships of the cars listed on the internet when my Dad warned that they don’t always keep the listings current.  The car could be sold.  Silly me for thinking that your advertising the car means you still have the car.

I called dealerships.  And called dealerships.  And called dealerships.

Sold (with listing still active.)

Sold (with listing still active.)

Sold (with listing still active.)

Not sold!  But the VW Golf you’re asking about is red, not the Barbie Pink featured in the 18 photos that made you fall down laughing and then inquire immediately. (See dealer photo to the left.  I would have ROCKED the pink car.)

And then a ‘Let me check, I’ll call you right back.’

To me, ‘right back’ is not three hours later.  But he — we’ll call him Shady — did call back.  And Shady said: “Well, since we listed that car online, we’ve found a series of problems: a, b, c, d….r, q…x.  That’ll come to an additional $1700.  Oh, and the inspection has unfortunately run out, so we’ll need to do that, and an emissions test, and…”  I hung up.

The next dealer — we’ll call him Less Shady — said, “Oh, where did you see THAT!?” when I called.  On the interwebs.  Where you placed twenty-one pictures of the car.  “Um, can you hold?”  I hold.  Turns out that the car was photographed and posted online before it went to the mechanic, and the car is no longer for sale because it ‘isn’t up to dealer standards.’

Let’s recap.  I spent over eleven hours on the internet and making phone calls, but still had not actually found a car I could test drive.  And then I called Decent.

Decent dealership answered the phone with enthusiasm.  They directed my call, and then Chris answered.  Chris gave me his first AND LAST name.  He told me the price of the car and asked if I had taken a look at the Carfax.  (I had.  Dad should be proud.)  Turns out Chris had taken the trade-in of the car in question.  The lady grew tired of the Beetle purchased from the Decent Dealership a few years ago, so she got a new Beetle from the same Decent Dealership.

I bought the car.

All Chris had to do was answer the phone, give me his name, and confirm that the car cost what it said it cost online.

He didn’t have to be amazing, above and beyond, or extraordinary.  He just had to be Decent.

Sometimes we focus so much on being extraordinary, revelatory, brilliant, and mind-boggling that we forget the power of Decent.  Returned e-mail.  Returned phone calls.  Enthusiasm for the task at hand.  Listening.  Honest answers to questions.

I told Chris about my car-buying escapades and he laughed, saying, “I’d rather be lucky than good any day.”

Amen, brother.  But you made your own luck yesterday.

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Chris - August 18, 2010 - 4:19 pm

What? No photo of the newly purchased vehicle? :-) I’m about to get a new car myself (and I hear ya on the accident thing). Hoping my experience is a tad bit better.

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SPECIFIC GOALS.

I’m just gonna hit you with it, today:

Only specific goals count.

When you join Weight Watchers, you have to make a goal weight.  Not ‘when the skinny jeans fit’ or ‘when I don’t feel gross’ or ‘when my waist is the circumference of a small citrus fruit,’ but an actual number that means you’ve made it.  You’ve done it.  You can take a moment to be proud of yourself.

What does success look like, in your business?

If you had 50 portrait sessions last year, how many do you want this year?  It might be 25.  It might be 125.  There’s no right answer.

So, you want X portrait sessions.

And how much money do you want to make?

‘A lot’ or ‘enough’ or ‘more’ or cutting a picture out of a magazine because a right-brained business manual says you should?  Those aren’t numbers.  How much money do you want/need to make?

Maybe it’s the cost of each mortgage payment plus a weekly dinner date, because your spouse takes care of the rest.  Maybe it’s the cost of operating your household that comes complete with five kids, a chicken, a dog and a kitten for the entire year.  Maybe it’s the cost of a safari to Africa plus a new camera body.

Don’t let someone tell you that a business grossing $10,000 per year isn’t a business, or that your dreams of making $300,000 per year are stupid.  There are no stupid goals, only fuzzy ones.  Because…

If you don’t define YOUR success, you won’t know when you’ve reached it.

Some artists won’t be happy with anything less than a $2.2 million dollar gross annual income and seven employees.  (I would throw myself off the nearest bridge if I had seven employees — that will never, ever be a part of my business plan.)  Some peeps just want to get out of the house for 10 hours a week to feel like they have an identity outside of their kiddos, and others won’t be happy until they’ve had a portrait session with the President.  Acknowledge what YOUR success looks like.

Then pick the number — an actual number — and when you reach it?  Take a moment to stand in your own success.

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heaven - September 1, 2010 - 6:08 pm

bril-iance! :)

Thauna - August 30, 2010 - 4:30 pm

Awesome post! I’ve been thinking about things that I want from my tiny business…one is not being tiny anymore. This is just the type of thinking I need to do. Thanks!

elena - August 17, 2010 - 2:47 pm

bull’s eye once again! totally agree with you and will have to apply it in my life this year–I am moving and have to start all over again, so goal setting and putting a number on it is going to be crucial to my success.

LESSONS FROM EUROPE: MAKE A DATE.

While I was wandering around Europe, I started thinking about how I was going to be inspired at home, where there are no cobblestone streets and thousand-year-old monuments nearby.

Home is ordinary.  I know it well.  But home is where I live for, you know, the vast majority of the year, so I’ve got to draw inspiration from the everyday.  Hrm.

I/You/We have lots of appointments in a week.  Meetings and phone calls and photo shoots and yadda yadda.  I/You/We are good about keeping these appointments, no matter what else is going on.  So, why don’t I/you/we treat gathering inspiration as an appointment? Not as a nice little fluffy idea that will happen ‘at some point,’ but a penciled-in-appointment that can’t be blown off.

I/You/We would never skip out on a family portrait session to watch Bethenny Getting Married, so why would I blow off an appointment for bettering myself as an artist?  (Imagine that phone call: “Yah um, hi, paying client.  Bethenny’s in labor and Bryn is about to arrive, so uh…can we just pick a different day and time?  Thanks.”)

I dare you to make a weekly (or bi-weekly, or monthly) artist date AND THEN KEEP IT.

Go to the art museum or the zoo.  Break your routine.  Stay still for an hour.  Run for an hour.  Do something unexpected.  Be a tourist in your own town.  Take a class.  Paint.  Draw.  Sew.  Knit.  Skip stones.  Jump in puddles.  Shoot something new with your camera.  Let the kids fingerpaint in the house.  Drop everything and dance.

Make a date with inspiration, and I just bet the muses will sing.

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Beate - August 13, 2010 - 9:55 pm

Waaay ahead of you. My kid routinely finger paints in the house, whether I permit him too or not. But I really think you are on to something here.

elena - August 12, 2010 - 2:37 pm

LOVE this post! I will make a date with myself to get inspired right after I move to a different state in a couple of weeks. I am plannig to take off a few weeks just for that! I desparately need inspiration!

Thanks

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LESSONS FROM EUROPE: BE INVITING.

Having just gotten back from Europe, I’ve seen approximately 7.6 million cafes in the past few weeks.  As I wandered from cafe to cafe — dinner and dessert and beer require separate cafes, sometimes — I began to notice patterns.  Let’s call them axioms, ’cause that makes me sound smarter.

Axiom #1: Busy cafes just get busier.

Like, there’s a perfectly good cafe right there with 14 open tables, but THAT cafe has no seats available, so it must be good!  We need to go there!  This makes no real sense, as you’re more likely to get attentive service and decent food at a cafe that has less customers.

Axiom #2: Anything but gray.

Gray is the new…

nothing.  Gray is not the red cafe chair of Paris.  Gray is not the slightest bit charming.  Gray is modern and hip and trendy, but not bright or cheery.

Cafe chairs that were NOT bright colors were much less likely to be full than those that fit the traditional, warmly-colored wicker stereotype.  Maybe because Parisians have a secret anti-gray stereotype.  Maybe gray-chaired-cafes are full of snooty waiters.  Maybe red chairs come from the factory laced with the scent of fresh baguettes.

Whatever.  Gray chairs = less people.  Gray chairs + gray facade = the last cafe to fill up, end of story.

People like warm, friendly, and inviting.  They want to eat at cafes displaying these attributes, even if they’re busy.  (At which point the cafe will just get busier.  See odd pattern #1.)

Axiom #3:  Sugar cubes are superior to sugar packets.

Yah, it’s a lame, non-business-y axiom.  Fine. You don’t want the axiom, I’ll box it up and send it to starving kids in third-world countries, where they appreciate any axiom they can get.

Right, so.  What do our axioms teach us?

Be inviting.  What’s the internet equivalent of a red chair?  (I don’t know, love, but it’s your job to contemplate it.)  How can you let clients know you’re happy to see them?  How can you get your business a bit busier and bumping?  Because we know that busy businesses get busier.  If people think you have something magical/fabulous/fantastical that’s in demand, they want it, too.  And they’ll show up in droves to get it.

Oh, and I need to buy sugar cubes next time I restock the pantry.

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Cathy Empey - August 12, 2010 - 9:05 am

Welcome home! Great post, you have been missed!

Jeanette LeBlanc - August 11, 2010 - 10:29 am

You’re back. I’m back. Ah, life is good.

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GUEST AUTHOR: RACHEL BALLARD

Still in Paris, shopping for the perfect scarf…this time it’s Rachel Ballard who’s writing for the Brand Camp blog!  She shares her love of photography and of Polaroids in this post.  If you dig her work and her words, you should sign up for the Bloom e-course she conducts with much love and even more artistry.

Finally deciding that photography was what I had to do wasn’t an easy thing. I would toss and turn about it, write lists of pros and cons about it, ask anyone who had an opinion worth listening to what I should do… Then I had a breakthrough.

I was going through a shoebox in my closet that had all of the Polaroids my grandfather took of me as a child, and inside I just felt something happen. I didn’t need to lose sleep over this. I didn’t need to make any more lists, and I certainly didn’t have to keep asking other people to approve of what I loved.

I got out my Polaroid cameras. I turned them over and over in my hands.

Then I began spending all of my available cash on film. Wait- stop right there… This is not what I recommend doing. I was simply so excited to have figured it all out…I couldn’t stop myself. Lucky for me, this was several years before Polaroid stopped producing film, so I was able to get it for far cheaper than I can now.

It didn’t take me long to figure out what subjects I enjoyed photographing the most. I decided to incorporate Polaroids into portrait and wedding sessions. Most of my clients were excited and interested in what their photos would look like- having known the nostalgia of Polaroid at some point earlier in their lives. And since I enjoy photography as an art form so much, I went about having shows in local galleries and coffee shops.

Mind you, my success wasn’t overnight. I built up my collection of images slowly, and began networking with area artists, and then started ‘meeting’ great artists online. I found myself surrounded by an amazing community of people who loved film, and loved Polaroid as well. I was able to find continuous inspiration through sites like Flickr, and by reading other artists blogs. After a couple of years of working on my images and developing my style, I added a gallery shop to my website. I was really overwhelmed when people started buying my work. I would imagine it on their walls- and I felt so proud of myself.

I opened an Etsy shop later on, and then people began commissioning me to take photos for their walls. I work as a portrait photographer, and I do have all the fancy digital equipment, but my heart still lies with Polaroid film. I will use it until I can no longer buy it on EBay- and now, thanks to The Impossible Project, I hope to continue by buying their amazing new films.

I firmly believe that if you love it, do it.

It will take work, and focus. But that’s why it’s called a labor of love, right?

xxo- Rachel B.