Pricing
The Millwright's Two Pounds
The knowing took twenty years and the doing takes a lad a week, and he was giving away the first. Letter No. 100 from Ben B. Tilley, on charging for the diagnosis.
The Letters & Archive
Every letter, newest first. One lesson at a time, told as a story, hidden in a riddle, sealed with a verse.
Marketing
The Four Hundred Who Know You
Telling a stranger costs nothing. Telling the people who knew you before is the hard part, and the profitable one. Letter No. 99 from Ben B. Tilley, on the first customers.
Marketing
The Parted Seam
Being right cost him four shillings saved and forty pounds of trade. Letter No. 98 from Ben B. Tilley, on the only occasion when your character can actually be demonstrated.
Sales
Booked Until March
The six weeks would not have lost her. The apology did. Letter No. 97 from Ben B. Tilley, on saying your lead time as a fact rather than a failing.
Marketing
The Boy Minding the Shop
Every one of them was lost at the last step by a lad doing exactly what he had been told. Letter No. 96 from Ben B. Tilley, on who delivers your marketing when you are out.
Sales
Your Sister on the Lane
She said she certainly would, and meant it entirely, and did nothing at all. Letter No. 95 from Ben B. Tilley, on asking for one person rather than anybody.
Pricing
The Weaver's Four Sentences
He bought the sentence a trade never recovers from, in order to avoid an awkward letter. Letter No. 94 from Ben B. Tilley, on raising the price or thinning the cloth.
Sales
The Six Weeks Before Starting
Doubt after a decision is a different animal from doubt before one, and worse. Letter No. 93 from Ben B. Tilley, on the stretch nearly every trade leaves unattended.
Sales
Boots in the Same Ditch
He was right about the fall, right about the depth, and had arranged the afternoon so that being right was something to be resisted. Letter No. 92 from Ben B. Tilley, on where you stand.
Marketing
What They Did, Not Why
Every one of them said price, sincerely, and not one of them was right. Letter No. 91 from Ben B. Tilley, on asking a question people cannot answer.
Sales
One Pot in Seven
He collected a small sample and mistook it for a verdict. Letter No. 90 from Ben B. Tilley, on knowing your ratio, and what an empty pot actually means.
Marketing
Twenty Strangers
He had never worked out how many customers he needed, so the target was everybody, forever. Letter No. 89 from Ben B. Tilley, on the sum that takes four minutes.
Marketing
The Leaking Coach
The handbills did not fail. They worked perfectly, and delivered several hundred witnesses to a fault he meant to fix in spring. Letter No. 88 from Ben B. Tilley, on the order of the work.
Marketing
Set Aside at Nine in the Evening
She was not comparing anybody. She was looking for a reason to stop looking. Letter No. 87 from Ben B. Tilley, on being eliminated rather than beaten.
Marketing
The Name Above the Door
Anybody can say they intend to stay, which is why saying it is worth nothing. Letter No. 86 from Ben B. Tilley, on the expense that answers the question nobody asks aloud.
Sales
Ten Days After
He waited six months so as not to press, and by then he was writing to a stranger. Letter No. 85 from Ben B. Tilley, on the fortnight most trades waste out of good manners.
Marketing
The Notice at the Orchard Gate
Every word of it was true and every word of it was aggrieved. Letter No. 84 from Ben B. Tilley, on the notice that teaches people exactly what is normal.
Marketing
The Yellow Wheels
You can see a cart coming a good half mile before you can see the man driving it. Letter No. 83 from Ben B. Tilley, on the one mark you keep for thirty years.
Marketing
The Words She Typed
The customer who fails to find you leaves no trace at all. Letter No. 82 from Ben B. Tilley, on writing in the language of the person who needs you.
Marketing
Lettuces and Apple Trees
An apple tree failing to fruit in year two is not evidence about apple trees. Letter No. 81 from Ben B. Tilley, on the two jobs of marketing and judging each by its own harvest.
Marketing
The Box of Offcuts
Nobody has ever crossed a room to tell a friend that a job was done properly. Letter No. 80 from Ben B. Tilley, on giving people something to say.
Marketing
Crossing the Square
Both asked five times a year. The trouble was that for one of them, five times a year was every time. Letter No. 79 from Ben B. Tilley, on the proportion of your appearances that are asks.
Marketing
There Is One of Me
He rented an office by the hour and used the plural for three years. Letter No. 78 from Ben B. Tilley, on leading with the thing you have been apologising for.
Marketing
The Bell on the Far Bank
One bought a second boat. One spent eleven shillings on a board, a bell and a bench. Letter No. 77 from Ben B. Tilley, on the complaint that is never really about time.
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