Yesterday, I was invited to enroll in a course developed by one of my favorite marketing gurus.
I was shocked by the offer page.
As far as marketing goes, the work was fantastic. It had everything you need: social proof, professional design, emotional appeal; it established the instructor’s credentials, and the FAQ was expertly tuned to eliminate any fears that potential buyers may have.
The only thing missing? The curriculum, the learning program, the table of contents.
Something is very wrong when promoting the person who teaches the course is more important than to know in detail what you are going to learn from it.
It pays to use your good name – especially when your fame was hard-earned – but use it as your sales pitch to the exclusion of almost everything else?
That’s a breakdown of humility if I ever saw one.
Photo Credit: mikemacmarketing Flickr via Compfight cc
The power failed at dinnertime. It was a bit unnerving at first – especially as I was trying to handle everything while a cat was meowing for food. For Peach, absence of electricity is no justification a late meal.
But then I came to that state where I have the good fortune of usually arrive when the power fails. It’s a state where the stresses of the unexpected dissipate, and the balm of possibility arrives – the possibility of a relaxing dinner by candlelight, of quietly reading a book, playing a game on a portable system (props to the battery quality of Nintendo consoles, which remain charged after months without use).
I was grateful to get the power back, of course – there are essays to write, after all. And there is no joy in having the freezer start leaking.
But a temporary interruption does not have to turn into a crisis.
It can even be an opportunity to relax.
Painting: “The Vigilia di San Pietro” by Canaletto.