Vulnerability

The pros and cons of the “mask of misfortune”

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“Hey what’s your name?”

“Helen.”

“That’s nice. You look like a Helen. Helen, we’re both in sales. Let me tell you why I suck as a salesman.”

Maybe you know this scene. It’s from the movie Tommy Boy.

Chris Farley plays his usual character, “manic fat guy,” trying to make sales to save his family business.

In this scene, Chris is in a diner, trying to order chicken wings. But Helen, the waitress, flatly tells him the kitchen is closed.

Instead of pressing the point, Chris goes on to tell Helen why he sucks as a salesman. He uses a bread roll to illustrate his possible sale:

He loves his possible sale so much, like a pretty new pet, that he ends up ripping it apart — because he’s such a manic fat guy.

It’s a funny scene, worth watching if you haven’t seen it, worth revisiting if you have.

At the end of Chris’s manic fat guy routine, Helen the waitress shakes her head.

“God you’re sick,” she says with a chuckle. “Tell you what. I’ll go turn the fryers back on and throw some wings in for ya.”

The typical conclusion to a story like is — “Share your stories of vulnerability and failure, and magic doors open!”

Maybe. But I’d like to tell you a different conclusion.

Because Chris Farley really was sick. He battled alcoholism and drug use and apparently felt horrible about the weight he always joked about. He ended up dead at age 33, from a combination of cocaine and morphine, though traces of marijuana and antidepressants were also found in his system.

I’m not trying to bring you down. I’m trying to give you some practical advice. Specifically, some practical advice I read in a book called The Narrow Road, by a multimillionaire named Felix Dennis. Says Dennis:

“Donning the mask of misfortune for the amusement of those around you or to elicit sympathy is a perilous activity. You run the risk of the mask fitting a little too well. Or — and I have seen this happen — of becoming the mask.”

In entirely unrelated news:

The deadline to get The Secret of the Magi before the price doubles is tonight, Sunday, at 12 midnight PST.

The Secret of the Magi tells you just one thing — the big takeaway I’ve had about opening conversations that can lead to business partnerships. It’s based on my experiences being both on the receiving end of many cold outreach attempts… and spending this past summer cold contacting a bunch of other people.

Your investment to get The Secret of the Magi is a whopping $23.50. Well, assuming you get it before the deadline, which is, again, tonight at 12 midnight PST.

I won’t be writing any more emails before then. So in case you want this guide, maybe get it now?

It’s up to you. Here’s the link if you want to find out the secret:

​https://bejakovic.com/secret-of-the-magi​

[firstname], here’s what’s working in email NOW

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Hey [firstname]!

Last week, I switched my email software from ActiveCampaign to ConvertKit. It’s largely been a smooth transition. The only thing I have to gripe about is ConvertKit’s overly enthusiastic UX, which greets me like a robot cheerleader each time I send a new email, and shows me a drawing of confetti and tells me congratulations. It makes me feel a bit like an imbecil.

I have this theory that, today more than ever, we all want something that feels real.

Or at least I do, and I notice how quickly I dismiss anything that gives off subtle hints that it’s not real:

Stale weeks-long autoresponders…

Merge fields…

Or just a fake emotional tone or connection, where there clearly cannot be any, like with a piece of email software that pretends to be my friend. You know what I mean, [firstname]?

A few days ago, I talked to a very smart and enterprising young marketer named Shakoor. He asked me if I think the email business model — build an email list, send emails, make money — will ever disappear.

I’m personally bullish on the email business model. But if it does ever disappear in its current form, I figure it will be replaced by something that works in basically the same way. Relationships with other humans will keep having value, as long as anything humans do still has any value.

And on that note:

Let me remind you that tomorrow, Wednesday, at 8pm CET/2PM EST/11am PST, I will host a “fireside council” with Travis Speegle.

Travis been selling online since 1996, and has been working as media buyer for 7- and 8-figure direct response brands for a good amount of time. He has seen things come and go.

Tomorrow, Travis and I will talk about paid traffic to grow an email list.

I imagine that nothing we discuss will be stuff that’s working NOW, in the sense that it wasn’t also working yesterday and won’t also work tomorrow, or next week, or next year.

But maybe that’s exacly the kind of information you’re looking for.

If you’d like to join Travis and me on the call tomorrow, you’ll have to be on my list first. Click here to make that happen.

People like you better when you taste something awful

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Opening scene:

Private investigator Lew Harper lies awake in bed. He stares at the ceiling.

His alarm goes off. He knocks it with his fist to turn it off.

Harper gets out of bed, pushes the still-on TV out of the way, and pulls up the blinds on the windows.

It becomes clear that Harper’s bedroom is actually Harper’s office. He isn’t sleeping there because he was working late, but because he doesn’t have a proper apartment.

Harper goes to the fridge, gets an ice pack. He walks over to the sink, dumps the ice in, and fills it up with water. He puts his head in the ice-filled sink and holds it there.

Finally, Harper goes to make coffee.

He folds a coffee filter. He folds it again. He gets ready to put coffee into the filter but — the coffee can is empty.

Harper hangs his head in defeat.

Then he thinks for a minute. He doesn’t like what he’s thinking. But what to do?

He goes over to the trash can and opens it.

There’s yesterday’s coffee filter with yesterday’s coffee, looking up at him.

Should he? Shouldn’t he?

He does.

Harper takes yesterday’s coffee out the trash. He makes a new coffee with it. He takes a sip.

And, in a moment that launched a giant Hollywood career, Harper shudders from how bad the coffee tastes.

So now, let me ask you, how do you feel?

Let me change how you feel for a moment, by sharing with you a really repulsive negotiation lesson. It comes from negotiation coach Jim Camp, who said:

“The wise negotiator knows that only one person in a negotiation can feel okay, and that person is the adversary.”

I’ve read this lesson 100 times. I accept it on an intellectual level. But I still find it impossible to accept emotionally, and that’s why I say it’s so repulsive.

Camp advised his coaching clients to make their negotiation adversaries feel okay. To make them feel smart, important, respected.

“Fine,” you might say, “that’s pretty obvious.”

That’s what I said too.

But the part that’s not obvious is that Camp says that okayness is a positional good. If you have it, then I can’t have it. And vice versa.

That’s the part I still can’t accept.

Whether or not Camp’s 100% right, the truth remains, if I make myself a little unokay, you will feel more okay.

And as proof of that, let me finish up the Harper story.

Harper was the first screenplay ever written by my favorite screenwriter, William Goldman.

The movie went on to be a big success. It launched Goldman’s career in Hollywood. It led Goldman to dozens more movies, a couple Academy Awards, and even a few million dollars.

None of it would have happened had Harper been a flop. But Harper was a success from that opening scene. Goldman wrote about the reaction of people who saw Harper when it launched:

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Whenever anyone talked about Harper to me in the weeks that followed, that was the moment they they remembered — drinking that horrible stuff. And the laugh that went along with it, that was a laugh of affection.

What that coffee moment really turned out to be was an invitation that the audience gladly accepted: They liked Lew Harper.

From that moment forward, the script was on rails.

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In entirely unrelated news:

Yesterday, I asked readers what todo items are waiting for them that they are dreading. I got a number of people responding with dreadful todo items.

In situations like this, whenever I get a number of good responses, I always like to repeat the offer. There’s sure to be people who didn’t see it the first time or who got pulled away before having a chance to respond.

So here goes:

What’s one thing on your todo list for today that you’re dreading?

It can be big or small. Important or trivial. The only thing that counts is that you’re not looking forward to doing it.

Let me know. Maybe I can figure out or find a solution to help you get rid of this troubling todo item. Thanks in advance.

I was wrong about being a pity-seeking loser

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On the sales page for my Most Valuable Email course, I once wrote:

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People love stories that show vulnerability — from the guru who’s already made tens of millions of dollars. But stories of vulnerability from the panhandler in front of the supermarket? People don’t love that so much.

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Turns out I was wrong. People do love stories of vulnerability from people who haven’t achieved anything — as long as those people make their plea on Facebook or Twitter. From an article I just read, “The rise of pity marketing”:

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Two weeks ago, at the start of the Edinburgh Fringe, an actor named Georgie Grier posted on Twitter to say only one person had turned up to her one-woman preview show, attaching a picture of herself crying with the caption: “It’s fine, isn’t it? It’s fine…?”

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Within hours, Grier had thousands of replies to her Tweet, including from other, more successful comedians, encouraging her to keep going and saying they had bought tickets to her show. The next night, Grier played to a packed room.

The article I read gives other good examples to make the case that being a pity-seeking loser on social media is now a viable business strategy. The article wraps it up with the following observation:

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Is it real success if you had to publicly declare yourself a failure to achieve it? Those who opt in to pity marketing seem unconcerned, given it can yield major (if short-term) returns.

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Phew. This gives me a bit of a lifeline.

Because I find pity-seeking revolting, both in myself and in others. I want to continue my war on it.

But how can I, when it clearly works, and I was wrong to say it doesn’t?

Well, I’m shifting my angle of attack. My hope lies in the key phrase above, how pity marketing can create “major (if short-term) returns.”

Because there’s no way in hamfat that pity seeking can truly be a reliable strategy for the long term.

In the current moment, pity seeking seems to be viable in general.

And in the current moment in your career, whatever it is that you do, you might post on social media that you have no readers/audience members/customers/clients/sales/whatever. And if you also post a video or a pic of yourself, red-eyed and teary, you might draw sympathy and maybe even a short-term spike in business.

But it’s not something you can do every day.

No, for every day, you need another strategy.

Because the pity reservoirs in most people get depleted pretty quick.

But the reservoirs for being amused, surprised, taught something cool and new, benefited directly and indirectly, well, those reservoirs run very deep.

There might be multiple strategies that allow you to tap into those deep reservoirs over and over again.

I know of one such strategy, which I can personally recommend. It’s my Most Valuable Email trick. In case you’d like to find out what that is, so you can start using it today, tomorrow, and the day after to grow your audience and influence and income while making yourself into a better and more skilled person:

https://bejakovic.com/mve/

The vulnerability myth

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Ron was waiting in his wheelchair, looking up the stairs.

The necklace he had just bought was wrapped up on the table in front of him.

Finally, he saw her.

She was coming down the stairs, laughing and talking to another man.

At the bottom of the stairs, she kissed the man on the lips and grabbed him by the crotch. She then noticed Ron from the corner of her eye.

Ron quietly pulled the wrapped present off the table.

The woman came over. “We get married today?” she chuckled.

“Oh yeah, yeah,” Ron said. “That would be great.” He slumped down in his wheelchair. And he wheeled himself away.

That’s a scene scene from Oliver Stone’s Born on the Fourth of July. It’s a fictional look at the real-world horrors that paralyzed Vietnam vet Ron Kovic went through, both during the war and after.

I thought of this scene today when I heard yet another recruiting pitch for the cult of vulnerability. “Wear all your hidden handicaps on your sleeve,” the cult leaders say, “and people will love you for it.”

I want to offer you another point of view. It’s a simple formula:

Charisma = Power + Liking

I read that a long time ago in a book called The Charisma Myth. It’s stuck with me ever since.

It’s why a brutal, undefeated knight makes hearts beat faster with small acts of chivalry…

But why a vulnerable “nice guy” with flowers and gifts gets a pat on the head, at best.

Good news is, there’s a way out.

For example, at the end of the Oliver Stone movie, Ron speaks to a crowd of millions. People hang on to his every word. They absorb his anti-war message. And they applaud and cheer him.

But here’s the crucial point:

This only happens after Ron and a bunch of other vets make a scandal at the Republican National Convention… after they storm the convention hall… and after they get on TV.

So my pitch to you is to work on your power and your authority first.

​​Once you’ve got em in buckets, then bare your stories of self-doubt and failure.

​​People will listen then… they will feel good about following such an effective and yet human leader… and they might even love you for it.

In other news:

I’ve got an email newsletter. Full of effective marketing and copywriting ideas, and occasional personal stories. In case you’d like to sign up, here’s where to go.