The Studio Source helps you build an extraordinary business by focusing on approach—how you show your stuff, how you connect with your customers, and how you manage the business side of creativity.
Stacey Cornelius
I'm a raving idealist, idea junkie, and creative entrepreneur with a Fine Art degree. I have professional experience in retail, theatre, and the IT industry. I'm here to show you how to make marketing part of your creative process. Contact Me
A little while ago I had a conversation with life and creativity coach Dawn Kotzer. I like Dawn. She lives farther out in the woods than I do, appreciates the power of metaphor, and knows her stuff, inside and out—particularly the inside part.
We were talking about being stretched too thin and what that does to your psyche and professional life when she posed a slightly terrifying question:
“What if you did nothing at all?”
Do you ever have those days? You know, the kind where you feel like your head will implode if you utter another word about business?
Okay, maybe it’s just me.
We’re not talking much about marketing today. There’s a moral to the story that follows, so if you only have time for that, skip to the end. But you’ll miss the entertainment, which mostly involves laughing at the misadventures of yours truly.
Today’s post is a snark about my attempt at a brilliant Christmas gift for the fella, and the company (which shall remain nameless) that ruined it. I try to avoid writing snarky posts, but I’m pretty disappointed, and there are valuable lessons to be learned, so here goes.
A few months ago, I read a story about entrepreneurs who had a great idea and a tight budget. They turned that idea into a very successful business that sells skin care products. I liked the story, but what really grabbed me was the description of what they sell.
True confession: I used to be one of those sales clerks. I took everything personally, and usually saw customers as a source of frustration and an unwelcome interruption in my day. You know the type. The ones you dread dealing with. Yep. Guilty.
Part of it was my age. I was suffering from a typical case of post-adolescent narcissism. Part of it was lack of training. There aren’t many retail jobs that provide the kind of training that gives you a sense of pride or professionalism. The crap wages didn’t help much, either.
I don’t recall how I landed there, but around the time I started university I got a part-time job at Mark’s Work Wearhouse. That was back in the day when they mostly sold serious work wear, before they went upscale and focused more on fashion. I somehow ended up as product manager for boots and shoes. I was about to become the resident expert on work boots, which also meant I was responsible for ordering thousands of dollars of inventory. I got some basic product information from another staff member and one of the regional managers, and I was off to the races.
I didn’t feel like a generic sales clerk anymore.
