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.
Pricing
Two lampwrights, the same brass and the same burner, and the handcart one of them sent round on the first Monday of every month. Letter No. 173 from Ben B. Tilley, on why your profit belongs where the buying repeats rather than in the first price.
Sales
Two coachbuilders, the same landau and the same fourteen pounds ten, and the two questions one of them asked before he wrote a word of his estimate. Letter No. 172 from Ben B. Tilley, on finding out what will decide it before you put a price on paper.
Marketing
Two basket makers, the same twenty-four white baskets, and the forty short notes one of them sent a week before the handbills went up. Letter No. 171 from Ben B. Tilley, on the order in which your news goes out.
Marketing
Two house painters, the same white lead and the same nine days of work, and the dust sheets one of them put down in four hallways at once. Letter No. 170 from Ben B. Tilley, on why nothing you have started pays you until it is finished.
Marketing
Two locksmiths, the same fourpenny spring and the same one and ninepence, and the shallow drawer one of them carried on his handcart. Letter No. 169 from Ben B. Tilley, on what a second visit really costs.
Sales
Two wallers, the same stone and the same eight shillings a yard, and the three addresses one of them handed over without going along. Letter No. 168 from Ben B. Tilley, on the proof you do not control.
Pricing
Two tinsmiths, the same solder and the same twopence for a pinhole, and the one who would not come out under two shillings. Letter No. 167 from Ben B. Tilley, on the attendance you give away with every small job.
Marketing
Two dyers, the same logwood and the same vats, and the black that was never the finest and always the same. Letter No. 166 from Ben B. Tilley, on why a customer buys the work he can count on rather than your best.
Marketing
Two nurserymen, the same roses and the same forty households, and the sheet that asked for one thing instead of five. Letter No. 165 from Ben B. Tilley, on why every extra request in a message divides the will and costs you the reply.
Marketing
Two chimney sweeps, the same rods and the same shilling a flue, and the one who walked past the empty houses every Monday. Letter No. 164 from Ben B. Tilley, on reaching people inside the short window when they actually need you.
Sales
Two sack makers, the same jute and the same twine, and the sheet of paper one of them ruled into nineteen names. Letter No. 163 from Ben B. Tilley, on choosing the customers you want instead of waiting to be chosen.
Marketing
Two grocers, the same mustard and the same yellow tins, and the card one of them printed the size of a playing card. Letter No. 162 from Ben B. Tilley, on the occasions your customers have never been told about.
Marketing
Two tailors, the same cloth and the same lean winter, and the handbills one of them put away until trade should come back. Letter No. 161 from Ben B. Tilley, on why the cheapest year to be heard is the year your rivals fall silent.
Marketing
Two plasterers, the same lime and the same hair, and the painted ceiling one of them walked up to the newspaper office to report. Letter No. 160 from Ben B. Tilley, on the notice you cannot buy and how long it goes on working.
Marketing
Two jobbing gardeners, the same spade and the same six days, and the far parishes one of them let go by. Letter No. 159 from Ben B. Tilley, on why a small ground worked thoroughly beats a wide one worked thinly.
Pricing
Two laundresses, the same copper and the same penny to find, and the note one of them wrote out by hand in January. Letter No. 158 from Ben B. Tilley, on announcing a price rise with a reason, a date and a window at the old price.
Marketing
Two drainers, the same clay pipes and the same sodden field, and the peg one of them drove before a spade went in. Letter No. 157 from Ben B. Tilley, on why the trouble you take away is forgotten faster than the money you charged.
Marketing
Two paperhangers, the same paper and the same paste, and the question at the door that a householder could answer honestly. Letter No. 156 from Ben B. Tilley, on why a pleasant question only ever gets a pleasant answer.
Marketing
Two upholsterers, the same horsehair and the same six chairs, and the plain sheet one of them left on the last seat. Letter No. 155 from Ben B. Tilley, on the customers who do not know half of what you sell.
Marketing
Two gasfitters, the same lead pipe and the same brackets, and the small brass plate one of them screwed inside the meter cupboard. Letter No. 154 from Ben B. Tilley, on leaving your name where the trouble will be.
Sales
Two pump makers, the same brass and the same four pounds ten, and the one who fitted two shillings of leather instead. Letter No. 153 from Ben B. Tilley, on the sale worth refusing.
Sales
Two dairymen, the same grass and the same fourpence, and the card that did the leaving for them. Letter No. 152 from Ben B. Tilley, on the trouble of leaving a supplier and who ought to carry it.
Pricing
Two joiners, the same shop counter, and the estimate one of them read on a Monday with a pencil in his hand. Letter No. 151 from Ben B. Tilley, on why a price broken into parts invites the customer to take it apart.
Marketing
Two thatchers, the same reed and the same ridge, and the neighbour one of them walked back down the lane to see. Letter No. 150 from Ben B. Tilley, on what you owe the person who recommended you.
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