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.
Mindset
Two sign writers, the same gold leaf and the same seven pounds ten for a draper's fascia, and the three pounds one of them stopped asking for in the April. Letter No. 316 from Ben B. Tilley, on why the sum in dispute is never what the dispute costs you.
Pricing
Two sailmakers, the same number four duck and the same nine pounds fifteen for a mainsail, and the last day of July written at the foot of one estimate. Letter No. 315 from Ben B. Tilley, on why a price with no end date is a promise your own costs will break.
Sales
Two oven builders, the same firebrick and the same eleven pounds, and the single page one of them wrote to a man who was not paying for any of it. Letter No. 314 from Ben B. Tilley, on the person whose permission your job needs and who has nothing to gain by granting it.
Marketing
Two spectacle makers, the same four pounds spent in the same four places, and the blue handbills one of them had printed on different paper. Letter No. 313 from Ben B. Tilley, on why you must never ask a customer where he heard of you, and how to make the reply tell you itself.
Technology
Two heating engineers in your own century, the same four hundred boilers and the same program, and the one line one of them wrote at the gate before driving off. Letter No. 312 from Ben B. Tilley, on why a machine remembers nothing you merely noticed, and what belongs in a customer record besides the job and the price.
Psychology
Two range setters, the same close iron and the same farm kitchen, and the one pound five that one of them allowed for the old range. Letter No. 311 from Ben B. Tilley, on why a customer weighs your new thing against the loss of his old one rather than against your price.
Mindset
Two jobbing printers, the same type and the same hand press, and the second compositor one of them took on in the spring. Letter No. 310 from Ben B. Tilley, on why your output is set by one step and effort spent anywhere else turns into a pile.
Pricing
Two saddlers, the same leather and the same four pounds ten a set, and the journeyman one of them could not afford to take on in his busiest autumn. Letter No. 309 from Ben B. Tilley, on why a price that only pays while you do the work yourself can never buy anybody else's hands.
Sales
Two mattress makers, the same wool and the same twelve and six, and the one question one of them asked after the money had changed hands. Letter No. 308 from Ben B. Tilley, on why only the people who bought from you can tell you what stops the ones who do not.
Marketing
Two scale makers, the same brass pans and the same four pounds, and the ninety-four names one of them copied out of the inspector's book. Letter No. 307 from Ben B. Tilley, on describing your market as a register somebody already keeps rather than as a kind of person.
Technology
Two repairers of garden machinery in your own century, the same booking program bought in the same April, and the plain sheet one of them read through four times a year. Letter No. 306 from Ben B. Tilley, on why a machine repeats a fact long after it has stopped being true.
Psychology
Two clockmakers, the same oil and the same forty houses, and the stopped kitchen dial one of them asked about instead of the clock in the hall. Letter No. 305 from Ben B. Tilley, on why a customer who already has somebody is weighing the conversation rather than your work.
Mindset
Two glovers, the same lambskin and a boy each taken on in the same week, and the half hour one of them missed twice. Letter No. 304 from Ben B. Tilley, on why a habit is decided on the morning after the one you missed.
Pricing
Two threshing contractors, the same engine and the same price a day, and the pound one of them asked before he wrote a farm into his book. Letter No. 303 from Ben B. Tilley, on why an unpaid booking hands the customer the choice and leaves you the cost.
Sales
Two blacksmiths, the same bar iron and the same scrollwork, and the one who named an evening and an hour and then kept it. Letter No. 302 from Ben B. Tilley, on the only work of yours a new customer can actually inspect.
Marketing
Two slaters, the same slate and the same six hundred handbills, and the eleven doorsteps one of them walked back to before he printed a word. Letter No. 301 from Ben B. Tilley, on why your real rival is another year of putting up with it.
Technology
Two pest controllers in your own century, the same eight calls a day and the same program on the telephone, and the half minute one of them spent at the gate before turning the key. Letter No. 300 from Ben B. Tilley, on why a record made where the work happened is evidence, and the same record made at nine at night is a recollection.
Psychology
Two glaziers, the same crown glass and the same putty, and the one sentence one of them wrote on a card for a householder to repeat. Letter No. 299 from Ben B. Tilley, on why a customer recommends you with his own good name rather than yours.
Mindset
Two coachbuilders, the same seasoned ash and the same two men at the bench, and the four lines one of them wrote on a card on the second of January. Letter No. 298 from Ben B. Tilley, on why a written figure is a rule for choosing rather than a spur to work harder.
Pricing
Two slaters, the same Welsh slate and the same twelve shillings a square, and the eighteen pounds that would not cover a barn. Letter No. 297 from Ben B. Tilley, on spending a customer's named figure on less work rather than thinner work.
Sales
Two collar makers, the same rye straw and the same two letters on the bench, and the one question one of them asked before he gave anybody his week. Letter No. 296 from Ben B. Tilley, on the thing that has already happened behind every job that is really a job.
Marketing
Two bell hangers, the same wire and the same row of nine houses, and the one question one of them asked before he picked up his bag. Letter No. 295 from Ben B. Tilley, on why a customer asked to think of anyone will think of nobody.
Technology
Two gutter clearers in your own century, the same three hundred and twelve households and the same September reminder, and the three accounts one of them opened in his own name before sending. Letter No. 294 from Ben B. Tilley, on why a program that reports a message sent is reporting your end of the wire and nothing else.
Psychology
Two saddlers, the same hides and the same waxed thread, and the twenty words one of them wrote after every condition on his card. Letter No. 293 from Ben B. Tilley, on why a condition that carries its reason is obeyed where the same condition bare is argued with.
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