Est. Yesterday · Delivered Free
Trade, mind and machine, taught the old way. Free lessons in marketing, sales, pricing and psychology, each told as a story and sealed with a verse.
Trying is Free, Ignoring is Costly
Every letter, newest first. One lesson at a time, told as a story, hidden in a riddle, sealed with a verse.
Sales
Two fencers, the same oak posts and the same riven rails, and the quarter of an hour each of them spent on the man coming over on the Friday. Letter No. 356 from Ben B. Tilley, on what a word against your rival tells a customer about you.
Marketing
Two clockmakers, the same four pounds at the printer, and the four lots of two hundred handbills that answered nothing four times over. Letter No. 355 from Ben B. Tilley, on why a trial too small to bring ten replies cannot tell you that it failed.
Technology
Two furniture removers in your own century, the same program on the same laptop, and the wet Wednesday one of them spent writing nine steps on one side of paper. Letter No. 354 from Ben B. Tilley, on why a program only one person can work has been bought by that person rather than by your firm.
Psychology
Two paperhangers, the same mill nine days late with the same green flock paper, and the letter one of them wrote on the Tuesday. Letter No. 353 from Ben B. Tilley, on why a customer blames the man he can see, and why news of a delay is heard as competence before the date and as an excuse after it.
Mindset
Two potters, the same clay and the same kiln, and the nine days one of them spent sweeping another man's shed forty miles off. Letter No. 352 from Ben B. Tilley, on which gaps to buy an answer for and which to practise your way out of.
Pricing
Two grinders, the same wet stone and the same fourpence a dozen, and the half inch of stone one of them put into every price. Letter No. 351 from Ben B. Tilley, on paying for the next tool out of the work the last one is doing.
Sales
Two french polishers, the same shellac and the same nine shillings, and the one who walked round before supper with bad news. Letter No. 350 from Ben B. Tilley, on selling the safety of putting a name on your work.
Marketing
Two coopers, the same five hundred handbills, and the morning one of them walked the lane to see where they had gone. Letter No. 349 from Ben B. Tilley, on proving your advertising reached a human eye before you judge it.
Technology
Two repairers of domestic appliances in your own century, the same booking page switched on in the same March, and the evening one of them spent writing down the work he would never have agreed to. Letter No. 348 from Ben B. Tilley, on why a program keeps only the rules you have written into it, and none of the ones you have merely always kept.
Psychology
Two chaff cutter makers, the same cast frame and the same four pounds ten, and the machine one of them left standing in a farmer's barn for a fortnight. Letter No. 347 from Ben B. Tilley, on why a customer who has had your work in his hands is answering an easier question than the one you asked.
Mindset
Two stonemasons, the same quarry and the same three days at the banker, and the four old orders one of them counted on a calendar before he named a date. Letter No. 346 from Ben B. Tilley, on why your estimate measures your labour and not the length of the job.
Pricing
Two bell hangers, the same wire and the same four pounds twelve, and the nine lines one of them wrote out after the tools were in the bag. Letter No. 345 from Ben B. Tilley, on writing a bill that tells the customer what the money bought.
Sales
Two house painters, the same white lead and the same eleven pounds, and the seven lines one of them wrote beneath his figure. Letter No. 344 from Ben B. Tilley, on why a price is read for what it leaves out.
Marketing
Two wheelwrights, the same four shillings a month at the printer, and the eleven words one of them refused to improve for three years. Letter No. 343 from Ben B. Tilley, on why the town only begins to learn your message long after you are sick of it.
Technology
Two sash window restorers in your own century, the same machine that answers questions, and the six questions one of them asked it that he already knew the answers to. Letter No. 342 from Ben B. Tilley, on why a machine is wrong in precisely the same voice it is right in, and what must be checked before it goes out under your name.
Psychology
Two bricklayers, the same slaked lime and the same cracked kitchen flue, and the three hours one of them gave to a single morning of a nine day job. Letter No. 341 from Ben B. Tilley, on why a customer remembers the worst hour of a long job as though it were the whole of it.
Mindset
Two farriers at the same crossroads, the same anvil and the same coke, and the six days in the June one of them shut his gate on purpose. Letter No. 340 from Ben B. Tilley, on why the only way to find what your trade is resting on is to not be there.
Pricing
Two ironmongers, the same traveller and the same wholesale figures, and the four prices out of four hundred that the whole parish could repeat from memory. Letter No. 339 from Ben B. Tilley, on where your margin should come from and which prices must be beyond argument.
Sales
Two coppersmiths, the same sheet copper and the same rivets, and the question one of them asked about a Monday four years gone. Letter No. 338 from Ben B. Tilley, on why a customer orders the size of a year that has already passed.
Marketing
Two harness makers, the same waxed thread and the same careful work, and the name one of them gave it in an evening with a pen. Letter No. 337 from Ben B. Tilley, on why a thing without a name is never asked for.
Technology
Two electricians in your own century, the same sort of program and the same free fortnight, and the awkward question one of them sent at ten past nine on a Wednesday evening. Letter No. 336 from Ben B. Tilley, on why the answer a firm gives before you pay is the best you will ever get from it.
Psychology
Two brewers, the same barley and the same well, and the sour cask in August that one of them answered in the room where the complaint had been made. Letter No. 335 from Ben B. Tilley, on why a complaint heard by other people is answered for their sake rather than the complainant's.
Mindset
Two chairmakers, the same beech and the same pole lathe, and the disused sty one of them pulled down on a Thursday in January. Letter No. 334 from Ben B. Tilley, on why a decision is not made until something has happened that cannot be undone.
Pricing
Two bootmakers, the same calf leather and the same eighteen shillings a pair, and the four days one of them spent out of the shop with a notebook. Letter No. 333 from Ben B. Tilley, on why the going rate is a rumour and what to measure instead.
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