I have no chill.

I fall in love with a new person, place or thing at least three times a week. Often, that looks like loudly declaring my undying devotion to someone’s product. I’m looking at you, kombucha slurpee lady from the farmer’s market. You are a magician 😍

Last year at a wine festival I attend religiously every spring, one of the chefs introduced me to a coworker as “his stalker.” That’s the day I learned I was extra. (Also, Steve, that’s not a very nice way to talk about the person responsible for all your INCREDIBLE WORD OF MOUTH. I would like to be immediately compensated for my not insignificant efforts… in smoked olives. Ahem.)

Sometimes, though, my adoration is off-the-rails. Nothing to see here, folks, just me with heart eyes, doodling my new married name all over my Trapper Keeper.

Case in point: This week, I needed to hire a plumber… and now I want to have all of his babies. Stay with me now, because the reason I want to have all of his babies (besides just being unhinged) has everything to do with you.

My new boyfriend, Wesley, is about to teach you (via me, cos I’m the writer in this relationship) how to make the kind of first impression that makes everyone you encounter want to have all of YOUR babies.

Because eliciting this kind of reaction from strangers is incredibly good for business.

Show Me That Attention to Detail, Baby

Apparently, organization turns me on.

A stranger once reached out to me on LinkedIn, asking me to be a guest on her podcast, and I agreed. Approximately eight seconds later, I got a series of automated emails containing release forms and user consent considerations that I, as a podcast host myself, had never even considered. Did I agree to give her my firstborn son? Probably!

All I remember in my fangirl fugue state is I just had to get to know her better… and now she is my best girlfriend on earth.

Wesley did basically the same thing. After returning my call within 17 seconds, he immediately asked me to text him my info so he could “put me in his system.” The fact that he had a system was impressive. Another plumber I’d spoken to texted me his estimate as a run-on sentence with no punctuation. As soon as Wesley “put me in his system,” I got an auto-generated email confirming our appointment for later in the day. Color me impressed.

When he arrived to assess the job, he immediately began climbing into crawl spaces I didn’t know I had. First of all, are you the crawl space whisperer, Wesley? How do you just KNOW I have an attic in my walk-in closet that I never knew was there?

Then Wesley drove me down to a friend’s condo to see how the same job was done at her place, and proceeded to interview her uber-friendly neighbor about crawl spaces. Then he came back to my condo and crawled into what he had now designated the “correct” crawl space, which he proclaimed was 140 degrees and which must have been dirty because when he came out, he looked like a sweaty tumbleweed.

All these crawl space shenanigans are important because every other plumber I met with told me they were going to have to demo my kitchen. The guy with the run-on sentences even said he didn’t do drywall or painting, so presumably he was going to just leave giant holes in my wall when he went home at the end of the day. Wesley saved me all that destruction and subsequent need for repair simply by paying attention to detail.

Swoon.

The lesson? When you obsess over the details, people notice. They feel a bit more confident that the elements of their own project won’t slip through the cracks. That their calls will actually get returned. You’ve just made them feel safe, and like your hands are the right hands to be in.

Psychologically, this means not only do they want to give their business to you instead of that other schlub, they’ll actually feel in your debt for taking such good care of them. That equals tips, rave reviews and loyalty. Cha-ching.

(Under) Promise Me

You know the saying: under promise and over deliver. You know a great way to show your client that’s how you roll? When showing up for that very first appointment.

Punctuality is basically extinct, especially when it comes to contractors, amiright? Last night, Lowe’s promised to deliver my new range today between 8 am and 12 pm. This morning I got a text saying they were coming between 1:30 and 5:30. They showed up at 12:30—which, hilariously, is not within either of those windows. But this kind of nonsense is what we expect.

Not with Wesley, though. Wesley told me he would be here between 4:30 and 5:30, and then showed up at 4:30 on. the. dot. I was so smitten, I vowed to do the same with every project deadline for every one of my own clients for as long as we both shall live.

It sounds obvious, but in a society that seems to increasingly disrespect our time, simply being better has a profound impact. Most people are like Nicole, the marketing director my client just hired. Ten minutes after our first meeting was supposed to start, she emailed “I’m running late” (coolcoolcool… so… should I sit here on Zoom???). She demanded my number—which was literally in my email signature—and then sent me hers with two digits reversed. When I finally got her on the phone, she was shopping at Target 🤨

If I ever meet her in real life, I will stab her with a fork.

Nicole doesn’t inspire confidence or even seem to respect other humans. She’s a walking accountability crisis. By contrast, Wesley noticed that my faucet outside was leaking and paused in the middle of his workday to replace it with parts he didn’t charge me for.

The bottom line? In a world of Nicoles, be a Wesley.

Invite Me Into Your Cult of Personality

I may have buried the lede on this, but Wesley was a delight from the moment I got him on the phone.

Is this part really that important? Only always.

During my recent car-buying experience, I fired a dealer who responded like a dead fish when I sent him a playful text that said, “Anthony, you work too hard 🤣.” I sent the diagonal laughing face, for crying out loud! If that’s not a universal sign you have permission to be human, I don’t know what is.

Besides the “know, like and trust” factor being the single most important ingredient in getting folks to buy your beautiful things, I simply no longer want to do business with the human equivalent of a cabbage roll. I want life to be fun—and that includes the mundane moments and the times I am handing over painfully large sums of cash. Make it hurt a little less, and I will reward you with favors.1

What really struck me was the fact that when I answered the door for Wesley, I was wearing what I’ve dubbed my sexy boot, which is one of those clunky orthopedic devices with Velcro straps, a hard plastic shell and a hoof-like sole that makes me walk like Frankenstein. Before he had taken a step inside, he gasped (for real) and said “What happened?” with the most sincere vocal inflection I’ve ever heard. If you didn’t know any better, you would’ve thought I was his bestie from elementary school.

It’s critical to note that this would have backfired if it had been fake concern. But it wasn’t.

Is it any wonder that he’s the man of my dreams?

Run-on sentence guy, during his three-minute assessment of the job, ignored my boot. Not that I need anyone to comment on the sexy boot, but the contrast was striking. I mean, it was literally the difference between “take me to bed or lose me forever” and “lose my number, bruh.”

Whether you’re a plumber, a personal brand or a coach who sells $3K transformations, these little moments matter. Show up warmly (and with a pulse)—and you will be remembered. Long after the deliverables are no longer being celebrated, how you made them feel will be.

You Had Me at Zero-Interest Financing

I’m glad you’re still with me, because this is the part where Wesley demonstrated a business acumen that could rival Warren Buffett’s.

For context, Wesley asked what the other guys had quoted, and I told him. (What?! I have no chill!) I just really wanted his estimate to come in low enough that hiring him would be a no-brainer. But alas, his was a full $1,200 higher than my highest quote so far.

But.

Because my mom is the actual homeowner and had to be consulted on all decisions, he offered me a senior discount, knocking off $450. Then he sent me a link for 0% financing over two years. In short, the man was trying to make it work.

Still, I went to bed heartbroken. By that point, I’d decided I hated the other two companies, but I couldn’t magically produce an extra grand just because Wesley spoke my love language.

And then…

The next morning, I woke up to a revised estimate. Same discount, different materials—slightly lesser quality, but still industry standard. (I asked ChatGPT if this was going to cause me to blow up in my sleep, and it said no, so…)

And the best part? The new quote came in lower than my other offers. That’s when I realized the clever bastard had price-anchored me.

Price anchoring is when you lead with a higher number to make your actual offer feel like a deal. It’s perception magic—and it makes people say yes faster, with fewer objections. You come out of the exchange looking all generous and accommodating, and in exchange, your people ask you to kindly take their money.

If you’re a business owner, you should absolutely do this. This can look like leading with your VIP offer—the one with all the bells and whistles—and then whipping back the curtain to reveal the on-demand self-study course for a low, low $999.

Or maybe your thing is a paid newsletter. You offer a $497 founding member subscription that includes exclusive essays, monthly Q&As and live writing workshops—but you also have a $7/month plan. When people realize they can get access to your brilliance for such a steal compared to the fancy version, supporting you becomes a no-brainer.

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Wesley got the job. Obviously.

But what he really earned was something even more valuable to his business in the long term: my undying loyalty, good PR and a glowing Yelp review.

So the next time you catch yourself wondering why sales feel hard, remember Wesley. In a world where mediocrity reigns and most people can’t be bothered to return a call, genuine enthusiasm, thoughtful detail and good old-fashioned competence are like rocket fuel. Take a page out of Wesley’s book and you won’t have to chase clients ever again.

Do it well enough, and maybe some day an unhinged middle-aged woman will write a love letter about you on the Internet.