Yesterday, I published two posts on this site, where normally I publish one.
This wasn’t part of any strategy or new trend. It was just a goof-up. One of those two posts was meant to come today, and I scheduled it wrong.
There was a second goof-up in one of my posts yesterday, which was that I claimed the free bullets mini course is kicking off today. In fact, it is kicking off tomorrow, Thursday. So if you opted in to get it, you will get it starting tomorrow, as promised initially.
Now that I’ve cleared the air of those painful topics, we get to something even more painful:
What valuable thing can I say today, since I don’t have a post ready the way I planned?
By blind luck, I’ve been forcing myself to write down a list of 10 “Flaubert moments” each day for the past few days. These are things I spot in the real world, which catch my eye or make me chuckle or wonder. So let me tell you about a fascinating Flaubert moment from two nights ago.
I was walking through the crowded old town at the center of this island. I came out from the medieval city walls and started down the steps to the main plaza.
There were people everywhere. There was chatter everywhere. There was music everywhere.
And yet, above all this noise, I heard it:
The nursery rhyme Frere Jacques. Played on a saxophone. Very badly, with each third or fourth note flat like a honking duck.
I found myself drawn toward this mysterious sound. It kept playing while I made my way through the crowd.
Fre-re-Ja-cques
Fre-re-Ja-cques
HONK-HONK-HONK
Finally, I had my answer. There, in the middle of the main plaza, surrounded by hundreds of ambling and ogling tourists, was a boy. Age about 10. Holding an alto saxophone, which was about as large as he was. With a hat on the ground in front of him for collecting tips.
By the time I got there, the boy stopped with the Frere Jacques and did some arrhythmic improvisation for a half minute. Then he got back to work, honking out Frere Jacques again, again missing each third or fourth note.
I stood there mesmerized.
Because every few seconds, a new tourist family came to drop some change or even a few bills into that hat on the ground. Each time, the boy nodded and kept at his task.
And if you’re looking for a lesson from this, here’s a lesson I’ve heard from very successful people, including Mark Ford and Dan Kennedy:
In any business, there are more important things than the quality of the product or service. In fact, excellence is optional for success, especially at the start.
Maybe you think I’m being silly by drawing this lesson from the honking saxophone boy. So let me spell out just how many things that boy did right, in spite of the awfulness of his playing:
1. He got into the middle of a crowd of hundreds of people who were in the mood to throw away a bit of money.
2. He made it clear he would accept some of this money by putting down his hat on the ground.
3. He drew attention to himself by blaring his saxophone. (Compare this to the little girls sitting along the edges of the same plaza, and selling statues made of shells, which nobody was buying.)
4. He played a simple tune which everybody knew and everybody could identify with on some level.
5. He entertained, whether consciously (by his playing) or unconsciously (by his shamelessness).
6. He kept at it. He didn’t play one round of his four-bar melody and quit.
All right, I think I’ve made my point. And maybe you can get some use out of it. Particularly if you still believe success will be yours one day… when you just become so good they can’t ignore you any more.
And now, here’s my hat on the ground:
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