Connecting with the Hearts of My Customers

One issue that has recently come up for me is around being a member of the “No One Responds to My Offers Club.” I don’t think any of the members really want to be in this club, but there are quite a few of us.

I’m a good writer and writing a decent offer isn’t particularly hard for me. Still, it kind of sucks when I create a class, send an offer and get hardly any responses.

I wondered to myself, “hmm, how am I seeing my customers, and how would I want to be seen if I were a customer?”

I’ve typically seen prospects subscribing to my ezine as:

• Critical, looking for results “right now”
• Judging me as not being “enough” to really be buying anything from me
• Inscrutable – there’s a secret word or code that, if I can figure it out, they’ll click through, otherwise, they’ll keep me guessing.

Hmm. Not exactly ingrediants for a very successful relationship.

So I’ve been considering shifting gears.

One shift in perspective is around, “how can I support and service my customers?”

This shift has been helpful because it takes the focus off of me (How can I get them to do this) and puts the focus back on them and on value.

Talking with my colleague, Hiro Boga, made me aware of another shift that needs to happen: connecting with the hearts of my customers.

This shift goes deeper because until people feel safe enough, they won’t come close enough to allow you to offer value.

So, how to go about enabling this shift?

Much of it is simply being aware of my own fears and vulnerabilities and making space for them. Doing this enables my customers to feel safer to bring their own vulnerabilities to me so they can get the support they need.

Stepping in too quickly as an expert intimidates prospective clients.

The question I have at this point is simply, how can I get myself back into this space. How can I get reconnected with the hearts of my customers?

I guess desire is the first step.

When is It Time to Start Over? (or the little tweed suit that couldn’t)

sometimes, no matter how good the material, no matter what the potential, it just isn’t worth the investment to fix something up.

Sometimes it makes more sense to simply get something that is perfect or close to perfect. Or to get rid of what isn’t working and replace it with something that does.

Living in the Material World: Part 1

The other day my family and I drove to another Denver neighborhood to walk around and take in new sights.

The neighborhood we ended up in was the Highlands neighborhood which is just west of downtown Denver. The name comes from the fact that it is on a ridge overlooking the Platte river (the river is still there but it’s entirely blotted out by the modern river that is I-25).

Millionaires and rich merchants once built red limestone mansions in Highlands. Then the neighborhood went into a decline and small, decrepit homes stretch to the north along with hideous mid-60’s and 70’s government offices.

The money is back and expensive new homes are going up along with expensive condominium developments.

Highlands is a western expansion of “Confluence Park” which is the neighborhood immediately to the east of I-25 and the Platte river. When we first moved to Denver in 1999, this area was gritty and run down. It was way too urban for most people.

Then an REI store moved into an old manufacturing building and several buildings were scraped out and rehabbed. Then the rush was on and condominiums and dot.com offices spaces sprouted up like mad.

When we walked around confluence park it was like a magazine spread for the “young, urban, lifestyle.” 20-somethings playing frisbee and wearing hip active gear. Golden Retrievers and Black Labs frolicking through the park. Moms with jogging strollers decked out like armored tanks speed walking and talking on cell phones.

It was depressing as hell.

My husband commented that there’s something weird about these pre-fabbed neighborhoods which certainly describes Confluence Park. They’re nice enough looking but at the same time there’s something calculated and sterile about them. Highlands is slightly better because there was an actual neighborhood (even though at the time millionaires built those red stone mansions it was probably pretty sterile and desolate looking as well).

Will the place look for organic and natural 25 years from now? It’s hard to predict how the neighborhood will evolve. Right now, I’d rather go somewhere else.