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 plasterers, the same slaked lime and the same ox hair, and the four pounds ten each of them lost when a builder failed in the April. Letter No. 292 from Ben B. Tilley, on why a standing rule made after one bad job is paid for by every honest customer who comes after.
Pricing
Two coopers, the same oak and the same six shillings a firkin, and the two hours the mill above the weir took out of every cask. Letter No. 291 from Ben B. Tilley, on why a saving you found is not a discount your customer earned.
Sales
Two joiners, the same seasoned deal and the same nine pounds, and the two dates one of them wrote under his own figure. Letter No. 290 from Ben B. Tilley, on selling the arranging of other men's work rather than handing it back to the customer.
Marketing
Two livery stable keepers, the same three guineas to the summer show, and the line in the programme one of them asked for instead of thanks. Letter No. 289 from Ben B. Tilley, on why a subscription buys gratitude and only a mechanism buys trade.
Technology
Two oven cleaners in your own century, the same booking program bought in the same March, and the link one of them never asked a single customer to open. Letter No. 288 from Ben B. Tilley, on why the minutes a tool saves you are only a saving if you have not quietly handed the work to a customer who will abandon it.
Psychology
Two ironmongers, the same barrel of lamp oil and the same forty households, and the card one of them set by his scales asking what they would take. Letter No. 287 from Ben B. Tilley, on why a customer reports his past exactly and foretells his own future not at all.
Mindset
Two millers on the same stream, the same pair of French stones, and the Tuesday in May one of them stopped his wheel with nothing whatever the matter. Letter No. 286 from Ben B. Tilley, on why the thing your trade leans on fails in your busiest week.
Pricing
Two upholsterers, the same horsehair and the same curved needles, and the thirty-nine shillings one of them named all at once. Letter No. 285 from Ben B. Tilley, on why every charge a customer cannot refuse belongs inside the price.
Sales
Two land drainers, the same clay tiles and the same sour meadows, and the sticks one of them asked a farmer to put in the ground before he would drive out. Letter No. 284 from Ben B. Tilley, on asking an enquiry to spend something before you spend a journey.
Marketing
Two music masters, the same scales and the same hired room, and the nine letters one of them pinned up in the hands that wrote them. Letter No. 283 from Ben B. Tilley, on why praise you have tidied is read as your own.
Technology
Two fencing contractors in your own century, the same vans and the same timber yard, and the note in September that said the bank had changed. Letter No. 282 from Ben B. Tilley, on why an instruction that arrives by machine is a claim rather than an authority, and must be confirmed on a line it did not come down.
Psychology
Two horse dealers, the same oats and the same row of stalls, and the card of three checks one of them handed to every farmer who stopped. Letter No. 281 from Ben B. Tilley, on why the suspicion a new customer brings you was earned by somebody else, and what to hand him instead of your word.
Mindset
Two nailmakers, the same rod iron and the same slitting mill, and the sacks one of them counted over his neighbour's wall every week. Letter No. 280 from Ben B. Tilley, on why the only comparison that can instruct you is between your own figures and your own.
Pricing
Two dyers, the same coppers and the same madder root, and the snippet of faded cloth neither man could promise in a single bath. Letter No. 279 from Ben B. Tilley, on why a firm price on uncertain work is worth more than the meter.
Sales
Two bricklayers, the same stock bricks and the same slaked lime, and the offer one of them left at two doors in the same lane. Letter No. 278 from Ben B. Tilley, on dividing the cost of getting there between two customers.
Marketing
Two well sinkers, the same boring rods and the same price by the fathom, and the sheet one of them printed each winter and gave away. Letter No. 277 from Ben B. Tilley, on publishing a figure out of your own records.
Technology
Two stove fitters in your own century, the same enquiries halved in the same May, and the plain file one of them wrote a dated line in every time he altered anything. Letter No. 276 from Ben B. Tilley, on why your programs count everything that happens to you and record nothing that you do.
Psychology
Two coopers, the same oak and the same iron hoops, and the sour cellar in July where both men found the same fault and only one of them got the order. Letter No. 275 from Ben B. Tilley, on why a customer will buy the remedy but never the blame.
Mindset
Two joiners, the same deal and the same bench, and the eleven jobs one of them had standing about his shop with every one of them begun. Letter No. 274 from Ben B. Tilley, on why work that is nearly finished pays nothing until it is done.
Pricing
Two hedgers, the same billhook and the same ninepence a chain, and the twenty years of neglected thorn that filled one man's winter. Letter No. 273 from Ben B. Tilley, on why one price for jobs of unequal difficulty collects the hardest work in the parish.
Sales
Two bookbinders, the same calf leather and the same seven shillings a volume, and the one who read the order back at the door. Letter No. 272 from Ben B. Tilley, on why a customer cannot describe the job but can correct your account of it.
Marketing
Two smiths, the same drawn copper and the same four pounds ten, and the bill that gave four lines to the fitter and all the rest to the weather. Letter No. 271 from Ben B. Tilley, on the three things a customer must believe before he can buy, and the two your material never argues.
Technology
Two cabinet makers in your own century, the same tools and the same telephone, and the twenty minutes one of them spent settling which three programs might speak at all. Letter No. 270 from Ben B. Tilley, on taking back the leave to interrupt you that every tool was given by default.
Psychology
Two thatchers, the same wheat reed and the same hazel spars, and the four lines one of them wrote at the foot of a forty pound estimate. Letter No. 269 from Ben B. Tilley, on why a customer takes the choice he can account for over the choice he privately thinks best.
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