“What the hell is wrong with you?”
Oliver was angry, and he had every right to be.
“I…I…”, was all I could get out before I was cut off.
“Why do you always do that?”, someone else yelled.
Great – more people were joining in. Would the others feel the same?
Oliver and co demanded answers.
Truth is, I only had one:
“You never know…”.
In a world of carefully measured actions, “you never know” is the cry of the desperate.
“You never know” is the last throw of the dice. It’s what you do when your back’s against the wall and things are looking desperate.
(If you’ve ever been out for a night on the town and not pulled by 1:58 am, you’ll know how this feels)
In this case, it was the school football team.
Lest you think I had any sporting ability in my teenage years, I’ll tell you it was my primary school football team.
I like to think I was picked because of a latent Georgie Best like quality I possessed for the game…
(yeah, I know it’s a dated reference, but it was the early 80s, so sod off!)
…but it was probably because numbers were low and I had two functioning legs and had remembered my PE kit.
I played centre-midfield. If I told you I was put there because it was a position of authority – a place where you can best command the game from…
…that would be bullshit.
In primary school, centre-midfield is the position where you can do the least amount of damage. If you’re asked to play midfield at school, your teammates are essentially saying, “we don’t trust you at either goal…stay there and don’t get in the way”.
It’s like going to a party and being the only kid they give plastic cutlery to.
When it comes to football, my skills are limited. So are my expectations – I either kick it, or I don’t.
At primary school, my sophisticated approach to the complexities of the game could be boiled down to a sentence…
If it comes to me…SHOOT!
Every single time I got the ball, I would shoot. No matter where I was – middle of the pitch…in their box…in my own box…in the supermarket…
If I’d have been on the moon landing and Neil Armstrong had dropped his helmet, the next NASA mission would have been to Pluto to go and get it.
My success rate wasn’t fabulous. Not unless they added “totally, completely and 100% unsuccessful” as a definition of fabulous while I was sleeping.
I never scored.
This annoyed my teammates. As it should.
“You never know…” is a terrible strategy.
Except when it isn’t.
Yesterday, I got a message. I’ll copy it here to save you the hassle of breaking into my house and torturing me to discover my Facebook password:
“Mr Holt, I’ve been eyeing you up for a while and so far, I like what I’m seeing. How are things? Yes, I have been eyeing you up and it’s been hard to avoid it as you’ve been flaunting your booty and wares on my feed. And it’s got me aroused…”
I stopped the message there because I had to look up what the word “aroused” means.
As far as I’m aware, this person has NEVER contacted me before. We’ve never spoken. They have never “Liked”, shared or commented on ANY of my stuff.
This is the first interaction we’ve ever had.
Writing emails, creating posts and making videos because “you never know…”, can seem like a long shot, but…
You never know who’s going to read your awesome post about headlines.
You never know who genuinely likes the video of you sitting on the toilet.
You never know who’s paying attention.
You never know who’s waiting to work with you.
For some games, “You never know…” is a terrible tactic.
For others, such as showing up for your crowd, being as helpful and valuable as you can and building a reputation, it’s a pretty epic one.
May the days leading up to my next electronic mail be good to you and at least 3 people you care about,
P.S. In what is undoubtedly the worst sales “P.S.” of all time, I’m just letting you know that I’m presently looking to take on a few clients who are interested in working with me to create a landing page and email sequence to bring people into their world, build the whole “know, like and trust” thing AND, best of all, get them into a position so they actually want to buy from you.
The best thing is, once you setup the landing page and email sequence, it’s always working for you.
Yes, even when you’re sat at home, needing to be turned by your partner to prevent bedsores from your record-breaking Netflix binge.
How much? £499.
Interested? Hit reply and let me know.