Today's Adventure in the Biz Opp Jungle:
'In which Charlie tries to blow his money on a rare record and
gets rebuffed by a total and utter git who exemplifies everything he loathes about most small business people and ARRRGH
he's too angry to even write the usual pre-email blurb...'
Hi,
In 1970, a cult jazz-blues musician called Captain Beefheart released an
album called "Lick My Decals Off, Baby".
He happens to be one of my favourite artists, but I don't have that album.
Why? Because it's out of print.
Not available.
Weird, but that's the music industry.
('Why is Charlie banging on about this?' you're asking. But wait for it...)
So a few months ago I was walking to Islington from Hackney to meet my
business banking manager.
She's the one who thinks I am some mad scamster, on account of my
trademark leather jacket, trilby hat, and my - shall we say, "ERRATIC" -
income.
I was a bit early, so I popped into a place called Haggle Vinyl. It's a
beautiful, clumsy place, stuffed with old records.
Any genre you like. Wonderful.
In the rare and collectable section, I spotted "Lick My Decals Off, Baby".
Going for £60.
Bargain, I thought. (I know, I know, I'm ridiculous, but I had a strange
childhood.)
At that point in time, Sarah hadn't bought me the snazzy turntable that
transfers vinyl to computer. My old record player's needle was broken, so
I thought, "Nah, there's no point forking out for this unless I can listen to it RIGHT AWAY."
I needed to explain to my bank manager what an "e-newsletter" was,
so I left the shop without the record, then forgot about it.
Still wondering what the point
of this story is, right?
This week, I walked past the shop again. I had a bunch of notes in my
pocket that I'd stolen off an old lady. (Joke.) Impulsive guy that I am, I
marched into the shop.
I wanted to blow £60 on a record. Then. Now. Wow.
I browsed through the rare record section for a minute or two. Then I
thought, I'll just ask the guy if he's still got it. You know... a £60 record... he'll know exactly where it is or if he it's still in the shop.
(If this sounds familiar, think back to my experience in PC World, and you'll know where this is going.)
The owner was a mature guy. In his late 50s, I'd guess. Tapping away on
his computer a few metres behind the counter.
"Excuse me," I said, "I came here a few months ago and spotted a rare record I wanted to buy. Wonder if you still have it,"
He didn't look up. "Website," he barked.
"Sorry?"
"Website."
"Um...?" I shrugged.
"Website," he now glanced up, a look of disgust on his face. "Has the whole catalogue. It will tell you if we have it."
Okay. So I am in the shop. He's there on his computer. And I have to go
home and check on my computer whether he has a rare record that I'm willing to waste my hard cash on. Then come back. And pay him some money. That he can then spend on whores, or a sense of humour, or whatever the grumpy old git needs to cheer up.
"I don't know what you mean," I said. "What website?"
He raised a bony finger and pointed it to a corner of the counter.
I couldn't see what he meant.
"Um...?"
"THERE!" he barked, jabbing his finger.
I spotted some flimsy green fliers stuck between two boxes. I pulled one out. It had all the details of the shop, where it was and the website address.
But I still didn't get it. Surely he could tell me right there and then and... "Website" he said again.
In a bubble above my head formed a word that rhymed with "James Blunt."
An important lesson in biz opp
I was so shocked, I took the flier and left the shop like an idiot.
Now, I understand that rare record shopkeepers are supposed to be
grumpy, arrogant tossers. Goes with the territory.
And if I'd walked in and said, "Do you have the new Robbie Williams?" I'd
expect him to snap.
But these days, what with Ebay and home business types like you and me, it must be hard to stay in business. Anyone - YOU - can set up an Ebay shop selling records to anyone in the world
(If you haven't already, check out http://www.bizoppjungle.com/review/2006035.html)
So you'd think they'd love a customer like me, right?
I'm gagging to blow money on records. Even if they didn't have "Lick My Decals Off, Baby", they could have sold me anything. I was hyped and ready to buy something. He could have pointed out some other records, asked my to have a browse first, recommended something that had "just come in".
You know what I mean, yeah?
It's what my marketing-savvy girlfriend calls "Floodgate" psychology.
She means that when someone decides to buy something, you can sell them a whole bunch of stuff right there and then. They're in a kind of buying frenzy.
Leave it a while, give them time to think, and you've lost not just the sale... but dozens of potential sales THERE AND THEN. Not only that, but someone who buys off you will more likely be loyal and buy stuff in the future. So catch someone early and sell them hard when they're in the mood.
(That's probably the most important biz opp tip I've ever given you, by the way.)
What happened next
Anyway, despite being disgusted at the lack of business sense and basic human decency of Mr Haggle Vinyl, I went home and looked up the website.
The site was down. No information at all. "Page not found".
And so that was that.
End of sale. End of my relationship with Haggle vinyl.
Now, you may ask, "Why has Charlie told me this? Where's the biz opp review, scam warning or recommendation?"
Well, I'm sorry. I've got only one recommendation today.
If you're ever in North London, go to Haggle Vinyl on Essex Road. Pick up a pile of mega-expensive records and take them to the counter.
When the guy gleefully asks for your money, say:
'Check my website.'
Drop the records on the counter, then leave.
Up the revolution!
Charlie Wright
The Biz Opp Jungle