When it comes to summer breaks, our family’s summers are consistently quite lame. Take this past summer, for instance. It consisted mainly of listening to our girls whine “there’s nothing to do” and “I’m boooooooooored” – God knows, life is boring when you live in the scenic Pacific Northwest with all its mountains and lakes. Heaven forbid your kids actually go outdoors, ride a bike, swim in the lake or clean their room.

As any loving parent would do, in an effort to insulate ourselves from their constant whining and badgering to “take me to the mall” or otherwise entertain them, we loaded up our kids’ summer with a series of week-long summer leadership / character-building camps and a couple of obligatory annual pilgrimages to visit elderly relatives. That’ll teach ‘em to whine about being bored.

This summer, whenever I would ask one of my daughters “Why don’t you hang out with [insert ‘90’s in vogue girls’ name like “Madison” here]?” the answer usually was along the lines of: “I can’t. [Madison]’s family took her to Fiji” or “[Jasmine]’s family went on a cruise in the Caribbean for the month of July” or “[Parker]’s family sent her to spend the summer with her cousins in … Paris … in the Palace of Versailles.” Kind of hard to compete when my family’s highlight was a family reunion in Central Ohio to see second cousins once-removed who we won’t likely see again for another 25 years, or our memorable stay in an ant-infested hotel room in Niagara Falls.

Any day now, your kids will be returning to school and will confront the inevitable question that every child from a family like mine dreads: “So, what did you do on your summer vacation?” I can hear it now:

Sydney: “So, Tim’s daughter, how was your summer? We went to Africa and slept in a hotel on the side of Mount Kilimanjaro. The room came with a Jacuzzi tub and a Zebra petting zoo. What did you do this summer?”

Tim’s daughter: “I was in summer camp for three weeks as a “Junior Assistant to the Helpers-in-Training” to the camp counselors. My job was to clean dishes, empty trash, rake leaves, remove rocks, and pull weeds – when I was not cleaning toilets, that is. Ate mostly prison food. Got bitten by mosquitoes so badly that I had to be taken to the hospital (true). Then I visited my grandma in Ohio and played 37 games of Parcheesi with her. She is 97, can’t hear and kept thinking the playing pieces were candy.”

Sydney: “Your summer sounds like a total wipeout. Did I mention our trip to Tahiti in June? Then I did zip-lining through the tree tops of Redwood National Forest and later I went parasailing in Acapulco. And when we got home, my parents bought me my own Sea Doo for my 15^th birthday.”

My daughter: “Your own Sea Doo? That sounds way cool. For my birthday, my parents gave me a new pair of work gloves – because the rocks I had to haul at summer camp gave me third degree blisters.”

Sydney: “Wow, you had the suckiest summer ever. Your parents must be complete losers. I am no longer going to be your friend. Bye now…. Hey, Madison, wait up. How was your summer in Fiji? Love your Gucci purse.”

Summers can be traumatizing to your kids (and when I say your kids, I mean my kids) when they discover that every other family in the civilized world except yours took their kids to Disneyworld (the one in France, of course) or The White House for a sleepover with Sasha and Malia. So if you can’t afford to take your family on gloatiful (new word) Mediterranean cruises to Malta and Santorini, then at least be sure you know how to talk about your more mundane summer vacation in a way that will impress your friends and hopefully keep your teenager from getting re-assigned to the losers’ table at lunch – you know – the table you (and when I say you, I mean me) were assigned to in high school, with members of the Chess Team and the Mathletes Club.

Say that your big vacation was a 1200-mile driving vacation to Darwin, Minnesota to see the world’s largest ball of string, then on to Spring Grove, Illinois to snap photos of the world’s largest corn maze. Sure, by any reasonable standard, your vacation would be considered shamefully lame. In several states, a vacation this dull would be grounds for loss of custodial rights for emotional cruelty to children from the embarrassing taunts they’ll be subjected to when they return to school.

You can, however, make up fascinating stories your kids can proudly lie about to their friends. Oh, let’s be clear about one thing. There is absolutely no way you can turn a trip to the world’s largest ball of string and the largest corn maze into anything that will sound remotely like an exciting vacation adventure. Trust me. I already tried that back in 2005. We had to move our kids to another school district as a result of the humiliation they experienced from retelling the story to their school mates. No, the secret is to simply make up a memorable vacation – and make sure your kids don’t crack under the pressure of scrutiny when retelling it at school.

This year, our girls will be sharing with their school mates the amazing (fabricated) summer vacation they had, thanks to their incredibly loving and unexpectedly financially successful parents. I’ve already drafted a rough script. They should have it memorized before school starts next week:

Sydney: “So, Tim’s daughter, how was your summer? We went to Africa and slept in a hotel on the top of Mount Kilimanjaro. Did I mention our trip to Tahiti in June? Then I did zip-lining through the tree tops of Redwood National Forest, and then I went parasailing in Acapulco. What did you do this summer?”

My daughter: “Gosh, Syd. Why so lame a summer? My vacation was a blast, thanks to my loving and financially successful parents. First we went to Cape Canaveral and took a ride in our own private 747, where we simulated weightlessness for two days. That was way cool. Then we went to my parents’ private island in the Caribbean – it used to be owned by Usher – where we went scuba diving with hump back whales. Then we went to the Grand Prix of Monaco, where they let me drive the pace car – that was so cool since I don’t even have my license yet. I finished fifth, four cars ahead of Danika Patrick.

“Then I went to the FIFA World Cup Soccer Tournament in South Africa where I had box seats right next to Nelson Mandela. He is such a nice man – I had no idea he was Black Eyed Peas fan. Then when we were in Shanghai, our family got back stage passes to the Lady Gaga concert. Frankly, I thought she was a bit off compared to when we saw her the previous week in Tokyo with Maroon 5.

“In August, we went white water rafting down the Colorado River in the same raft as Taylor Swift for a week. She and I are now totally BFFs. And last week I was in Manhattan, where I won a walk-on role on the TV show 30 Rock. That Tina Fey sure is so nice. She introduced me to Tyra Banks, who has lined me up to compete in America’s Top Model for next season. That’s just sick, isn’t it?”

Oh one more thing. Be prepared to offer your teenage child a small bribe to stick with the scripted vacation story – might I suggest a new go cart – unless of course you’re Sydney’s parents, in which case she no doubt already has one.

Feel free to use the above copy to describe your family’s summer vacation (you might want to change the part about white water rafting the Colorado with Taylor Swift to say, mountain biking the Grand Canyon with Justin Timberlake, just to sound original). And don’t worry that anyone might actually challenge your kids on the veracity of their story. In the remote chance they do, just tell your kids to act shocked and offended, give that bratty, snot-nosed drama queen Tara an icy stare and say “Are you suggesting that I’m making any of this up?” She will be too intimidated to probe further, let alone mention her own humdrum summer vacation in the Seychelles.

Come up with your own incredible story of your summer vacation, and maybe, just maybe, the world will never have to know that your family actually drove the minivan 950 miles to Jackson Township, Ohio to see the world’s largest pumpkin. Your secret is safe with me.

That’s the view from the bleachers. Perhaps I’m off base.

In a nationwide late-night sweep by local law enforcement, all 100 members of the U.S. Senate, 435 congressmen, and more than two million employees of the Federal goverment’s Executive branch were rounded up and taken in handcuffs to makeshift temporary detention facilities, where they now await arraignment on charges ranging from mail fraud to bank fraud to governing with the intent to commit fraud.

The arrests followed a 45-year-long investigation which revealed that the nation’s affluent lifestyle of lavish military spending and popular social “entitlement“ programs, as orchestrated by its government, was in fact based entirely on a sophisticated pyramid scheme involving a complicated system of insufficiently leveraged debt obligations.

“It was a classic bait and switch operation,“ said Special Agent Clarence Mitchell of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, who led the crackdown which also led to the arrest of some 26,000 of his FBI colleagues, all government employees, as co-conspirators in the pyramid scheme.

According to Agent Mitchell, the government had been luring participants into the scheme for decades with an intoxicating promise of national and social security completely paid for by low taxes. Even as the scheme finally started to unravel this year, unsuspecting investors were still pouring money into it through the purchase of so-called “Federally-secured long-term U.S. Treasury bonds.“

“It’s hard to believe that someone could fall for such a blatant swindle for such a long time without noticing that the numbers just couldn’t possibly add up,“ said Agent Mitchell. “Yet, by the time we finally had enough firm evidence to bring charges, the accused had already racked up an incredible $13 trillion in unsecured debt, and was still pumping out billions daily in these toxic T-bonds to gullible fools who actually believed the guarantee of an enticing 3.5 percent annual return on their 20-year investment.“

“These guys make Bernie Madoff look like a shoplifter,“ Agent Mitchell commented.

Authorities have begun an inventory of the government’s vast possessions in the hopes that at least some of the missing trillions can be recovered to help compensate victims of the scheme. Among the treasure trove of luxuries so far uncovered are a fleet of Virginia-class submarines which the accused reportedly purchased for a whopping $1.8 billion each and a new F-35 Joint Strike Fighter with a price tag of $132 million. “That’s $132 million for just one airplane,” Agent Mitchell noted. “Tragically, before their arrest, they had already ordered more than 2,400 of them.”

Agent Mitchell noted that the government’s duplicity in the scheme was equaled by its bravado. “They even went so far as to put a pyramid right on the back of their most traded currency,“ he said, shaking his head in disbelief. “That must have given them a good laugh every time they saw it.“

– Steve Fisher

At a press conference on the steps of the Capitol, Senate Minority Leader Mitch McConnell (R-Kentucky) strongly condemned the President’s choice for his first meal of the day, terming it “the wrong direction for America.”

“President Obama campaigned on a promise of change,” stated McConnell. “Yet he continues to eat virtually the same yogurt and granola breakfast every morning, totally ignoring the will of the American people who would overwhelmingly prefer a triple stack of pancakes and sausages.”

Rep. Eric Cantor (R-Virginia.), the House GOP whip, echoed McConnell’s statement with regard to sausages and accused the President of “caving in to radical Islam” by failing to include any pork in his breakfast menu. “Our Founders built this great nation on a steady diet of ham and eggs, bacon and eggs, and in the case of my home state’s Thomas Jefferson, pig’s brains and eggs,” Cantor exclaimed as he pounded the podium with a giant pork shank, adding, “We will never give in to the terrorists and their hatred of our breakfast freedoms.”

House Minority Leader John Boehner (R-Ohio) derided what he laughingly termed the President’s “Euro-breakfast.”

“Maybe the French are satisfied with their socialized yogurt for their le petit déjeuner,” said Bohner, adding, “Not that I even know what that means in English…and don’t put an accent mark on it when you quote me ‘cause I wouldn’t know if it has one.”

“It does, and it means ‘breakfast’,” noted Louisiana Governor Bobby Jindal.

“Jesus, shut the hell up, Bobby,” said Bohner. “Anyway, the majority of Americans don’t want to have some bacterial fermentation of milk with that foreign-sounding granola shoved down their throats.”

White House Press Spokesperson Robert Gibbs dismissed the Republicans’ criticism of the President as “bizarre” and noted that the name “granola” was actually trademarked in the United States in the late nineteenth century. “In choosing his breakfast, the President is simply setting an example for all Americans by maintaining a healthy diet that is both light in calories and low in cholesterol,” said Gibbs.

Later in the day, during a speaking appearance before the National Pork Producers Association, former Alaskan Governor Sarah Palin blasted Gibbs’ statement, saying, “Well, gosh, I guess now that we have Obamacare, us Grizzly Moms aren’t going to be able to feed our little cubs those tasty strips of smoky bacon that they love. Instead they’re gonna have to eat government-mandated yoga.”

The White House refused to respond directly to Palin’s attack. Reached by phone, Gibbs said, “Despite what some members of the media might prefer, the president of the United States is not going to decide what to eat based on the 24-hour news cycle.”

“Besides,” Gibbs added, “the President did express his unity with and support for the stricken Gulf Coast state of Florida by having a glass of orange juice with his breakfast.”

At press time, details regarding the President’s plans for dinner this evening were unavailable.

– Steve Fisher

You see, Betsy has had, well, a rather challenging life, to put it mildly. Imagine Winnie the Pooh going on an “explore”.  He comes upon a sign that says “This way to ‘Honey, Goodness, and Nice People’, that way to ‘Hell’s Burning Dungeons of Despair.’” Of course Pooh follows the sign toward ‘Honey’. Problem is, by the time Betsy gets there, the wind blew the signs around. Uh oh. That’s the story of Betsy’s life – “Blown by the wind.”

You know how some people lead a charmed life? Well, I think Betsy was put on this planet to balance out the scales – singlehandedly. It’s like Betsy has a sign on her back that reads “Go ahead, kick me again – but could you kindly do it before I get back up? – it will save me another trip down.”

You see, Betsy is not a bad person. She doesn’t have a death wish. She just has the world’s worst luck. Whether dealing with an agency bureaucrat or the cable repairman, the common refrain she hears almost daily is, “Well, that’s a first” or “I’ve never seen anyone’s appliance do that before,” to which Betsy calmly replies, “That’s my life.” Here is a sampling of just a few of her mishaps (and I swear I’m not making any of these up):

There was the time she hired a plumber to fix the clogged bathroom sink. She paid him. He left. The next day the bathroom floor was flooded. “Well, at least the sink isn’t clogged anymore,” remarked Betsy. Turns out a pipe cracked under the sink during the repairs. By some miracle, the plumber did not charge Betsy for the return visit – must be the exception that proves the rule.

Or the time she was living in France and signed a Driver’s Test application as “Elizabeth” (with a z), only to later find her signature on the application had been changed to “Elisabeth” (with an s – the French spelling) by a DMV bureaucrat. Betsy was denied entry to the driving test because the name on her passport (“Elizabeth”) did not match the name on the DMV application (“Elisabeth”).  The clerk insisted the mistake was with Betsy’s passport, not with the “corrected” application.

In the end, the spelling of her name was not the only problem confronting her. The bigger problem was that Betsy had written on the application that she was born in Albany, New York.  Although she was finally allowed to take the test (and passed it), she was denied her license because, as the clerk patiently explained to this dumb American, “You could not be born in two cities: Albany and New York (City).  You have put false information on the form. License DENIED!” Apparently DMV clerks in France go through the same rigorous selection process for incompetence as they do in the USA. I never knew.

Or the time she was baking potatoes in a toaster oven and opened the glass door to check on them. She poked the potatoes, closed the door, turned, and…  KABOOM! The glass door shattered all over the kitchen. As she explained the incident to the manufacturer, the representative asked “Did it IMPLODE or EXPLODE?” Betsy replied, “What difference does it make! It PLODED!” They concluded that indeed it had exploded, to which the representative then said, “Well, that’s a first. Usually our defective toaster ovens implode.” So her defective toaster oven was even defective in the way that it was defective.

Or take the time her furnace was cleaned by the furnace company.  The worker cleaned, he left, Betsy left …. hours passed, smoke began billowing from the chimney, two fire companies came, police broke into Betsy’ house ….Betsy came home to a very official-looking red notice posted on her door from the town building inspector that read “Your furnace has been turned off.  You may not turn it on until the furnace company checks on it.” Take a guess who the town building inspector sent to inspect the furnace. Yup, the same worker who had almost burnt Betsy’s house down.

Or the time she returned from Germany and was detained by US Customs officials at JFK International. They interrogated her for two hours with questions like “Have you ever traveled to Turkey?” and “Do you go by any other names?” Betsy answered “In France I sometimes go by ‘Elisabeth’” Undeterred, the officials asked, “Do you ever go by the name …Christine???” Turns out Betsy closely matched the profile of a notorious international fugitive from Germany named Christine Jones. Go figure. My baby sister, Jihad Jane.

Or the time she got the recall notice about defective hub caps falling off her make of car. Must be why Betsy’s hub cap was gone. With recall notice in hand, Betsy went to the dealership to get the non-defective replacement hub caps. “We’ll be needing that defective hubcap” said the dealer.  “I don’t have It,” said Betsy. “Well, we have to have it if we’re going to replace it,” insisted the dealer. “But it was defective – that’s why it’s gone – that’s why I don’t have it,” explained Betsy.  “Do you know where it is?” asked the dealer, straight-faced. Betsy never did get the replacement.

Or the time she asked the post office to hold her mail while she was away for three weeks. When Betsy returned, she collected her mail from the post office. In the pile was a notice to pick up a package that was being held at the post office since she was away.  There was also a second notice reminding her about the package. And a final notice explaining that the post office would have to “return the package to sender” since Betsy had failed to pick it up. (Did I mention that she was away and the post office was holding her mail?)  Betsy rushed to the post office in hopes of retrieving her package. As she struggled to reason with the by-the-book postal clerk, she spotted the package perched in plain view on the clerk’s desk, on the other side of the window from Betsy. “That’s my package!” Betsy exclaimed, to which the clerk replied “I’m sorry, you are too late.  You should have picked it up when we sent you the notices.” That’s when Betsy went, ahem, postal.

The list of these sorts of miscommunications and misfortunes is longer than the line at the post office the week before Christmas. But that’s the way Betsy’s life has gone – for as long as I can remember. Of course some of her bad luck stories are a bit more dramatic than others. Like the time back in college in Ohio, when she was dating a charming International Exchange student – who had inadvertently forgotten to mention one small detail about the fact that he was married… and had a kid … living in Minnesota. Oops! Small oversight.

Or the time in her twenties, when she was traveling alone in Communist Czechoslovakia and got kidney stones. She was rushed to the hospital, and questioned in Czech, Russian, and myriad languages other than English about her symptoms and identity.  While a doctor was poised with a hypodermic needle, a nurse took Betsy’s passport.  Siberia loomed just around the corner….Fortunately, Betsy somehow survived, retrieved her passport, and finally made it home to America, if for no other reason than to provide more fodder for this week’s blog.

How is it that all of these unfortunate things – and too many more to list here – happen to one person – one quasi-normal, very patient, VERY kind person?  Here’s my theory: My sister Betsy must have been a bad person… a very bad person…. a very, very, VERY bad person …. in a previous life. What other explanation is there?  She did her chores and homework as a child, adopts stray animals, remembers everyone’s birthday, and is an excellent mom.  The only explanation I can conceive of is that she was Attila the Hun in a previous life.

I’m guessing she was the miserly, alcoholic owner of a 19^th century sweat shop that forced Russian refugees to sew dresses for 18 hours a day and then fed them a potato and water – perhaps a turnip if they surpassed quota. That’s her factory on the left.   Maybe she was the bitter hag of a headmistress of an over-crowded orphanage who delighted in torching young children’s teddy bears. Or perhaps she was a frog. Who knows? The point is, I’m pretty certain my sister was bad news in a previous life.

Clearly Betsy is doing penance for having been a vile, depraved, demoness for most of the past millennium, (or perhaps she was a frog – let’s keep that possibility on the table).  The amazing thing is that Betsy does not complain about her endless cycle of misfortunes. She actually laughs about them and is one of the funniest, most jovial people I’ve ever known.  Her mantra is “It makes for a good story,” which is why I decided to tell her story today.

One burning question remains: Having dealt with such adversity in her present lifetime with tremendous grace and humor, what will Betsy come back as in the next life? Impossible to say. I’m guessing a beautiful princess or perhaps a postal worker.

Still, we can’t exclude the possibility of a frog.

Well, that’s the view from the bleachers. Perhaps I’m off base.

According to its producer, the Maxwell House division of Kraft Foods, the commemorative coffee is an “all-American style” blend of Columbian and Honduran coffee beans flavored with chicory and “contains absolutely no cardamom, saffron or other Arabic spices.”

The sole exception to the new ordinance is the food court in the planned Park51 Islamic cultural center located near ground zero, which the city ordered to serve only Chock Full o’ Nuts.

Speaking at a convention of the National Automatic Weapons Manufacturers Association, former Alaskan governor and Republican vice-presidential candidate Sarah Palin praised the new ordinance, saying, “The site of the 9/11 attacks is indeed hollowed ground, and it will always be, well, at least until they fill it up with something.“

In related news, President Obama said today that he would not comment on the wisdom of his comment in which he refused to comment on the wisdom of building an Islamic cultural center and mosque near the ground zero site. “When I said what I said about having said what I said and about what I would not say, I was not saying that what I said was what necessarily what I should or should not have said,” the President said.

– Steve Fisher

Below is the conclusion of our two-part series of Superstar Strategies for Super Sales Success, from the renowned Sales Coach to the Stars, Biff Biven, motivational speaker and author of the not quite best-selling sales primer Everything I learned about Sales I learned in Prison. In Part two, Biff reveals the remainder of his A to Z Secrets for Sales Superstardom, starting with the letter P.

If you missed last week’s Part One, or you just need a refresher on the letters of the alphabet, you can read it here.

Now back to the Biff Biven’s guest post, Part Two.

_______________________________________________________________________________________

Welcome back, evurbahdy. I’ve saved my best sales tips for the second half of the alphabet. So let’s get ‘er started.

P means Present more than one alternative. Some people call it the “Either or” Close. For example, recently, I was very successful with the followin’ closin’ technique: “Would y’all like yur pizza with extra cheese? Or would y’all prefer the “Meat Lovers” Supreme?” Either way they choose, I WIN!! Ka-Ching!

Q:  Questions – Have lots of them for the customer. About their business, about their challenges, about their business goals, about their worst boss, about their cousin who happens to be friends with my ex-wife, and about how could she dump me just because one time I drank a little too much and slept with her twin sister? Come on. I’m only human. I said I’m sorry. …. Er, um, sorry about that… Just took a little road trip in my mind over to Hell Town and got lost. But I got my bearin’s again and we’re now headed straight for Sales Success City.

R: Results. That’s what they want.  So y’all gotta show results…. Either that, or blackmail ‘em with some incriminatin’ photos ya’ got from their ex at last year’s office Christmas party.  Frankly, I’ve had more success with the photos than with actual results. But y’all gotta decide what works best for yurself.

S is for two words:  Shut the f*ck up. Y’all know what they say: When it comes down to the final negotiations, he who speaks first speaks before the other guy. So just shut up. Just shut the hell up. I mean it. Jeez, I’m so tired of yur yammerin’ all the time about how I leave my empty beer cans on the floor or about “what were ya’ thinkin’ usin’ cigarettes for candles for little Britney’s 6-year old birthday cake?” So get off my back, woman, and shut the f*ck up, OK? … Oops.  Just did another U-turn back to Hell Town again, didn’t  I? Sorry about that. The divorce papers just arrived in the mail this mornin’, so I’m a bit edgy. Won’t happen again.

T: Tell stories. Tell the prospect about other customers who have had great results with yur product. Like the summer I was sellin’ human pheromone supplements to high school students from the back of my U-Haul truck. I told them how other customers who had used my product got lucky 8 times out of 10 on the very first date.  Man, they sold like hotcakes.  Sure I made it all up. They’re just stories, after all. Nobody said they had to be true stories, did they?

U: Under-Promise and…. What the hell was that other part? Under-promise and … oh yes, Under-promise and over-estimate. For example, when the auto repairs that ya’ told the customer would probably take two weeks and cost $2500 turn out to take only six days and cost her only $1900 (when yur actual repair time and cost to do the job was 37 minutes and $235.50) the customer is happy and yur happy. (See W below for Win-Win.).

V: Always Validate yur customer! They love it when ya’ pay for their parkin’! Go the extra mile: Bring a squeegee and offer to clean their wind shield while yur at it. That’s a great way to win customer loyalty by providin’ some added Value – hey, that’s another V!

W: Win-Win. Always be lookin’ for a win-win solution with yur customers. This reminds me of when I was runnin’ my Biff Biven’s Rifle Range & Daycare many years back… until it was shut down by the authorities for reasons I’ll never understand. We had a win-win policy there. If the customer hit the bull’s eye three times in a row without grazin’ a kid, they won a stuffed animal they could give to their kid in our daycare area. They win, their snot-nosed kid wins, and we win – because we never paid a dime for those stuffed animals. Hell, they fell off the back of a truck that was carryin’ stuffed animals stolen from some travelin’ carnival. Win-Win.

X: Treat yur customers X-TRA-Special. Last fall, when I was workin’ for a large multinational food corporation in a very important front line sales capacity, I made it my practice to always look for ways to make my clients feel special. One time I threw in a large order of fries for the lady at no X-tra charge. Another time I even threw in an X-tra Spider Man III action figure in a kid’s happy meal. Man, y’all should’ve seen the look on that little boy’s face. It’s times like that that make me proud to be in professional sales.

Y is for Yes, Mr. Customer! I don’t care what the hell they ask ya’ about yur product. When they ask “Can y’all guarantee that yur product will give us 100% increased productivity and a 50% reduction in costs?” Look ‘em straight in the eye and say, “Yes sir. Yes, I can….. Sign here….” That’s all there is to it! By the time they figure out the correct answer really should’ve been “No, sir, no, I can’t”, ya’ be long gone and off to yur next big sale.

Z is for Zero Excuses. If the product y’all sold them is defective and the customer’s upset and wants his money back, remember, the customer is king. So, if ya’ can’t figure out a way to make it look like it was their fault and that they broke it, or convince them that it’s two days out of the warranty period, or that it was that way when ya’ sold it to them, or that this is the way it’s supposed to work and those sparks when they plug it in the outlet are supposed to do that, and it’s supposed to be hot enough to set the house on fire when ya’ touch it – well, then, in that case, y’all probably should try to make ‘em happy. Offer to give them 10% off their next purchase of $100 or more – no excuses.

Those, my friends, are my A to Z secrets for superstar sales success.  Follow these techniques, and some day y’all just might have the same kind of incredible success that I’ve had in my long, illustrious sales career. Hell, before y’all know it, y’all may be negotiatin’ with some VIP, lookin’ for a win-win, and proposin’ “Would y’all like to super-size it for fifty cents more? Great. Just sign here and we got a deal. Ya’ won’t be sorry….”

-          Biff Biven, Sales Coach to the Stars

___________________________________________________________________________________

Well, this is Tim and I just wanted to let you know I’m back. I hope you found Biff Biven’s sales success advice over these past two weeks helpful. I can’t wait to read his advice myself to see what I missed.

From the hundreds of emails waiting for me in my email inbox, it sounds like people are most curious about where I came across Mr. Biven. To be honest, I don’t really remember. I think it might have been at a Chuck E Cheese in Reno. I’ve only had time to skim a few reader emails, such as…

• The one from Ralph L. who emailed to ask “What fish ‘n bait shop did this Biff Biven fellow crawl out of?” or….
• The one from Michael C. who opined “I read Mr. Biven’s A to Z advice and can only conclude that he saved his best sales con for you – convincing you to let him loose on your readers. Please send him back to his white trash trailer park where the only people he might hurt are his redneck in-laws who no doubt live there with him.”

Finally, to Marcia T., who wrote that she followed Mr. Biven’s A to Z sales formula “to the letter” (got it – cute, Marcia) and it caused her to be fired from her $100K/year high tech sales job of 15 years, I can only speculate that perhaps you missed one or two of the letters – I’m thinking perhaps L or Q.

(Note to self: Review guest bloggers’ articles before publishing. Lesson learned.)

Well, that’s the view from the bleachers. Perhaps I’m off base.

– Press release, www.whitehouse.gov

Are you naturally artistic? Can you spell? If so, then an exciting career may be awaiting you in the rapidly growing field of window sign painting. The demand from factories and other businesses has never been greater for a wide array of displayed messages raging from “NO JOBS” to “NOT CURRENTLY HIRING”. And, as the economy continues to spiral downward, industry analysts are forecasting a spike in demand in the retail and warehouse sectors for such signage as “SHOPLIFTERS WILL BE PROSECUTED” and “TRESPASSERS WILL BE SHOT”.

Massive unemployment and associated increased levels of poverty invariably lead to a rise in crime rates. That’s promising news for our nation’s correctional services industry, which will soon need to recruit tens of thousands of new prison guards to handle the expected upsurge in convicted felons. If you’re looking for a steady income – plus the chance to spend more quality time with your less fortunate family members, friends and former neighbors – then this could be the opportunity of a lifetime.

It used to be that having a doctor in the family was considered to be an advantage. Today, as rising movie ticket prices force people to depend more on home entertainment – and as they simultaneously struggle to afford their cable bills and DVD rentals – having a copyright violator in the family has become the new domestic gold standard. With more and more bootleg versions of first-run films available on-line, being the person who knows their way around the aggregated environment of Chinese and Russian-based video-streaming websites can be your ticket to continued free room and board in your parents’ home.

Advances in robotics have already led to the displacement of millions of workers in a wide range of newly automated industries. In the future, robots are expected to replace even more human laborers in sectors ranging from retail to office services. But who will take care of these robot workers? Who will dust them, and oil them, and replace their worn-out parts and batteries? Who will see to their every need and desire? This is your chance to get in on the ground floor as a robot’s personal assistant. While it may be able to assemble an entire jet fuselage in minutes or manage a company’s entire operations with its sophisticated data processors, your robot master will still rely on you to ensure its day-to-day well-being. For that extra special touch of respect, remember to always address it as “sir” or “ma’am”.

Do you like to read? Can you do so quickly? The recent publication of tens of thousands of secret U.S military documents by the website WikiLeaks and the site’s expected release of a cache of classified State Department e-mails has created an immediate need for embarrassing information scanners to review these materials for potentially damaging exposures. Day or night shifts available. Contact the Pentagon.

Are you a good listener? Do you know your “tops” from your “bottoms”? Then this could be your opportunity to begin a rewarding new life as a gay marriage counselor. Sure, it’s a little confusing when the arguments are all “he said, he said” and when both spouses call each other a “bitch”. But your outside perspective and sage guidance can be all that’s needed to help put the “us” back into “fabulous”. Currently recruiting in California only.

– Steve Fisher

For much of my career I have been in sales management. The first thing any new salesperson learns is the ABCs of sales. You know – Always Be Closing. Turns out, this is a totally five minutes ago approach. I’m delighted to have veteran sales coach and motivational speaker Biff Biven take the helm this week as my guest blogger, to tell VFTB’s readers about the NEW ABCs of sales. That’s Biff on the left.

Biff is proud to say he came just 3 credits shy of graduating from Rebel Yell Elementary School in Biloxi, Mississippi. He is a renowned expert on direct sales strategies, having done direct selling for several decades (on and off, when he was not collecting welfare checks or serving time). Some of his achievements include direct sales roles with KFC, McDonalds (where he once met Ronald), Stanley Steamer carpet cleaner, and Shucks Auto Supply, to name just a few of the 37 Fortune 10,000 companies he has worked with over the past 35 years. He is perhaps most proud of his current role with Dominos, where every day he is personally responsible for driving regional sales (in his 1987 two-tone Ford Pinto hatchback).

Even in his formative years, Biff (age uncertain – he lost his birth certificate in a poker game around age 9) was always an entrepreneur. When he wasn’t serving time in juvie for petty larceny or running a con game (which Biff likes to remind people is a form of sales), he would take just about any sales job he could get. He showed great initiative at a very young age – like at age 11 when he went door-to-door selling his uncle’s taxidermy services to people whose pets had recently been hit by a car (which oddly enough matched the description of Biff’s uncle’s car).

Then there was Biff’s short-lived Guns ‘n Kids store. Before you start saying “bad idea, Mr. Biven”, you should know, in fairness to Biff, he had a strict policy of never selling bullets to kids at this store – only guns. For bullets, you had to ride your bike three miles down the street to his Ammo ‘n Kids store. A true sales pioneer, Biff has learned as much from his failures in life as from his near failures.

Because I’ve been really busy this past week, I didn’t have time to actually read over Biff’s post below before publishing it. But I am sure it’s filled with proven success strategies sure to help you grow your business. After all, we’re all in sales in one form or another. If you decide you want to hire Biff as your own personal sales coach or perhaps for your next sales team meeting as a motivational speaker, I’m told his rates are very reasonable. He does not, however, accept any major credit cards or checks – just cash, cases of Bud, and cans of Skoal.

See you next week. – Tim Jones

PS: Biff informed me that his article is best understood if read with a thick southern accent.

__________________________________________________________________________________

Why, hello there, evurbahdy!  My name is Biff Biven. And I would like to teach y’all how to be as successful at sales as I have been over my illustrious 35-year career. First let me start by askin’ y’all a question. Y’all remember the old adage about the ABC’s of sales, right? Well if y’all thought it stood for Always Be Closing, y’all would be wrong. In the new Biff Biven approach to Sales Superstardom, it goes like this:

A: Ask for the sale.

B: Buy yurself a beer.

C: Call it a day.

But y’all know, there really aren’t just 3 letters to my secret to sales success. Nope. There is a whole gosh darn alphabet soup of sales secrets, from A to um, well, whatever letter is at the other end. For the first time anywhere, I’m gonna reveal them to y’all. Here goes…

D: Drink – heavily – with yur customers. That’s the best time to get them to sign legally confusin’ documents.

E: Expense the lap dances. No, wait, that’s a different topic. That’s from Biff Biven’s A to Z’s of Gettin’ Even with Uncle Sam on yur Taxes. I meant to say E is for be an Expert on whatever product y’all are sellin’. For example, back when I was a salesman at Big Burt’s Tractor Barn in Mobile, Alabama, I could tell ya’ the names of every pinup girl on the John Deere Tractor Wall Calendar for five years runnin’. Check it out: Miss August 1978? Now that would be Bonnie Sue Bailey. Go check it out yurself if ya’ don’t believe me. I’ll wait.

F: Feign concern about whatever the hell yur customer is yammerin’ on about when they whine about their “pain” and their “needs.” They like it when they think ya’ care. F also stands for Forecastin’. After a long, hard day of sellin’ pizzas, there’s nothin’ I like better than grabbin’ my rod and reel, hoppin’ in my Ford F-150 and headin’ out to the lake for castin’ for some striped bass for dinner.

G: Golfin’ is a great way to bond with yur customers. Golfin’ and drinkin’ is an even better way to bond, and if y’all lucky, they might not even notice ya’ charged yur greens fees and bar tab to them.

H: H… H… H… Hmmm… Hell if I know what in tarnation H would stand for. I forgot about that letter….

I is for I contact. Always look em’ in the I. And if she’s really purdy, don’t let ‘em catch ya’ lookin’ at her banister, if y’all know what I mean. That tends to piss ‘em off. I learned that lesson the hard way when my girlfriend was watchin’.

J:  Joke around. It’s a great way to create rapport with yur prospect. For example, have y’all ever heard this one: There was a priest, a rabbi and a stripper in this here row boat. And the stripper gets her t-shirt all splashed wet, and the Priest leans over to the Rabbi and says …. On second thought, perhaps I should save this one for my advanced course on sales.

K is for Klosin’. As in, “Hell, is it already 2am? Klosin’ time at the Suds and Spuds Tavern sure snuck up on me.” K is also for Krispy Kreme donuts. Whenever I blow a sale – which is rare for me – the best way I cheer myself up – other than by gettin’ drunk, of course – is buyin’ a dozen Krispy Kremes and eatin’ through my pain. The more my pain, the more sprinkles I order.

L: Listen to the Customer. Ah, I’m just kiddin’. What I really mean is Look like yur listenin’. Just make sure to throw in a couple “I see’s” and a few “uh huh’s” every now and then and they’ll think ya’ actually care.

M: Manage yur time carefully. Do some research about yur prospect before yur sales call. See if there are any funny videos about them on You Tube – lessen of course there’s a game on. Then, the M stands for “Miller Time! Time for another cold brewski.

N is for Negotiatin’ – that’s where sales really begins. Y’all have to know how to bargain. This sometimes means comin’ up with some incentives to sweeten the deal. For example, “I’ll throw in a case of Bud, two tickets to Wrestlemania XII and a $25 Hooters gift certificate but only if y’all sign this little piece of paper before I walk out the door. Ya’ have sixty seconds, startin’ right….. Now!” (Don’t forget to bring yur stop watch. Hell, any watch’ll do.)

O:  Offer personal support after the sale. For example, “If y’all sign that little piece of paper right now, I promise to personally deliver the case of Bud and the Wrestlemania tickets to yur kegger party. Y’all don’t mind if I bring a few of my bowling buddies, do y’all?” This shows y’all genuinely pretend to care about them not just now, but after the sale too.

Oh one more thing. Mr. Jones wanted me to pass onto y’all somethin’ about “That there being the view from the bleachers. Perhaps he’s off base or somethin’” – what in the Hell does that mean, anyway? I ain’t got a clue.

END OF PART I (Stay tuned for next week’s Conclusion)

In a brief e-mail exchange with this column, the 54-year old amputee, Steve Fisher, explained the reasons for his disappointment with the innovative new technology.

FISHFUL THINKING (FT): How long have you been using your new dictation software?

STEVE FISHER (SF): I actually received it as a gift from a friend shortly after I got out of the hospital last audit no auto no auburn no damn it Auden wait forget it I’ll just type it with my nose autumn. There.

FT: And why have you been disappointed with it?

SF: Well comma no no backspace no delete that no select all delete shit okay just forget about punctuation Marx no delete that oh forget it

FT: Is it the speed or the accuracy of the software that has been most troublesome for you?

SF: The speed is fine. Wow look it actually typed a period instead of the word period period no period no. Thank you.  It seems to be learning. Anyway comma shit never mind it’s even faster than typing used to be for me. It’s definitely accuracy that’s the biggest challenge.

FT: Can you give us an example?

SF: Well led me dry two thing four a mint.

FT: That’s okay. I think we get the idea. Thank you for your time. Sorry to trouble you.

SF: Hay know trouble atoll period

Just less than 1% of the US population is currently incarcerated – in part thanks to my neighbor’s 22-year old stoner son Justin, who is serving 3 months for drinking, driving and smelling like urine while trying to order take-out at Highway tollbooth Exit 7A, which he apparently mistook for a Dominos Pizza. I believe the specific charge was “acting like an obnoxious moron in a public place” or something like that.

The USA has more people in prison than any other country in the world – one more achievement about which Americans can proudly shout “We’re Number One.”  The cost to house all these charming folks is staggering. Check out these startling statistics:

• In 2008, $68,747,203,000 was spent on corrections in the USA alone.
• The average annual operating cost per state inmate in 2008 was $22,650, or $62.05 per day.
• Housing the approximately 500,000 people in jail awaiting trial who cannot afford bail costs $9 billion a year.
• The cost to put my two daughters through four years of college would be enough to house the entire prison population of Wyoming for 4 months.
• There are more than 200,000 insects for every one person on earth.
• My wife has a phobia about insects.
• Walt Disney had a phobia about mice (ironic, I know).
• Donkeys kill more people annually than plane crashes but are not known to be afraid of insects, mice or Walt Disney.

So, as these alarming statistics clearly demonstrate, we need to do something about the runaway costs of housing our inmates – not to mention cracking down on Donkeys Gone Wild. At left is a chart that shows the increase in our American prison population over the past 80 years. (Interestingly, if you flip the chart into a mirror image, it displays the actual downward spiral of my total stock portfolio’s value from 1990 until 2010.)

One humanitarian solution I’ve lobbied for vociferously for years is to simply turn the entire state of Mississippi into a prison. I mean, it’s not like it’s being used for much of anything else at present. Besides, its chief exports are catfish gumbo, mullet haircuts and double first names like Billy Joe, Bobbie Sue and Misty Ray. (With no offense intended to my dear friends from Mississippi – no wait, I don’t have any friends in Mississippi. Never mind.)  Actually there’s an even better idea.  And we need look no further than due south – no, not Mississippi – further south – to Argentina, for a brilliant solution to the soaring costs of securing these 2.3 million dangerous wards of the state. The answer? Soccer ball prison guards.

This past week, Argentina made an unscheduled surprise announcement about its unique cost-cutting solution for its prison system. Turns out that one of their prisons was running severely short of funds to staff their guard towers – so much so that only 2 of the 15 guard towers actually were staffed by guards. The prison decided to staff one of the towers with a dummy. “We’ve made a dummy out of a soccer ball and a prison officer’s cap, so that the prisoners see its shadow and think they’re being watched,” an unnamed prison source told the Río Negro newspaper. “We named him Wilson, like in the film Cast Away, and put him in one of the towers.” (I could not make this stuff up.)

Let’s do a quick cost analysis, shall we? Cost of one soccer ball: $8.95. Cost of one guard cap: $11.50. Total cost: $20.45. Annual cost of one Argentinean prison guard: $20,500. Average annual savings of soccer ball guard: $20,479 or approximately 99.9% cheaper than using a human prison guard. Of course that’s before the cost of engraving the ball with the State Seal of Mississippi and the necessary legal disclaimers like “This prison guard is the property of [insert name of prison here]. Do not try to escape past me. I am armed and inflated. Well, at least inflated. Not intended for use in recreational sports.”

Think about the cost savings to the American taxpayers if we implemented this innovative approach. Right off the bat you can eliminate the cost of salary, food, and medical benefits – not to mention guns and ammo. And issues like substance abuse, prisoner abuse, grumbling about work conditions and guards stealing towels instantly become things of the past. Oh sure, you may have to inflate your soccer ball guard now and then, but beyond that, they’re pretty much maintenance-free and would require very little supervision.

We could debate for days whether soccer balls, footballs, basketballs or volleyballs would function best as substitute prison security personnel. But one thing I think we can all agree on is this: golf balls simply are not up to the task. Not even Titleists.  And to my dear friends in the cold white north, I would counsel against using hockey pucks.  I will leave it up to some Congressional sub-committee to recommend the proper spheroid to use, the proper inflation pressure and how much to skim off the top from the lobbyists for Spalding, Wilson and Rawlings to have Congress recommend their brand of ball. My point is this: We could save billions of dollars a year – not to mention stimulate our economy by outsourcing our prison security staffing one of these fine American-owned sporting goods manufacturers.

In addition to prisons, millions of Americans may soon be purchasing sports balls, dressing them up as German Shepherds and placing them in their living room windows to deter burglars. Of course, the security alarm companies will cry “FOUL” (ball) but heck, competition is good for America.

Now one thing to learn from Argentina’s bold new experiment is to be sure not to actually inform the prison population that your guard towers are being guarded by soccer balls. This was Argentina’s one tiny mistake. Apparently, word got out that the guard in Tower #3 – the guy who never seemed to look around very much, smoke or ask for a bathroom break – was in fact a guard ball.  As a result, two convicted armed robbers escaped over the wall and into the night and as of this writing are still on the run. (True.) Here is a photo of one of the convicts taken as he attempted to swim to freedom (above). He is considered very dangerous and possibly holding a soccer ball hostage.

But that’s just a tiny little hiccup in the system. The only other mistake the Argentine prison authorities made was in forgetting to remove the giant gold and green FIFA WORLD CUP logo on its face – a sure giveaway if you ask me. But that could have easily been painted over – if only they’d had the budget to buy a paint brush.

With a well-inflated soccer-basket-volley ball, our prison system could order thousands of balls with fiercely intimidating faces on them like Willem Dafoe (left) or Al Pacino in Scarface, to keep the prisoners from even thinking about escaping. Based on the dramatic near success of the Argentine model, US prisons are now taking a serious look at this bold new idea. Recently stock prices for Spalding and Wilson are up sharply in the anticipation of an entirely new market segment for their products. Now that’s good for America.

But why stop there? Think how much our US Military could save each year by replacing soldiers on the front lines with soccer ball dummies. Think about how many American lives we could save. Here is an early prototype of what this new soldier might look like (right).  And think about the millions of dollars Hasbro and Mattel could make selling the new GI Joe soccer ball dummy action figures. And don’t even get me started on the possibilities with LEGOs.

Of course, there are still a few logistical challenges our military commanders will have to work out, like how to get the soccer ball soldiers to shoot … or drive a tank … or disarm land mines … or salute their commanding officers. But I’m confident the top military brass will figure out those minor details. After all, they pretty much solved the whole Afghanistan mess, right? Pretty soon, they may even finally change the recruiting slogan for the US Army from “Be all that you can be” to a new one. Might I suggest something simple, like: “Join the Army. It’s a ball!”

That’s the view from the bleachers. Perhaps I’m off base.