At the Cubs game the other night, there was a vendor who used mystical powers to get people
to pay five bucks for a bag of peanuts.
I know this because in a sea of “Beer Here!” and “Hot Dogs!”
cutting through the calm night’s air, this vendor barely said a word. When she did, you could see her lips form the
words “peanuts,” but almost no sound came out.
She was no younger than 70 and no taller than five feet; her
ID tag read “Ho Pun.” Her face was
weathered as if she’d spent 50 summers at Wrigley Field but I’d never seen her
before.
She would walk halfway down the aisle and hold up a bag of
peanuts and stare at someone until the person bought a bag of peanuts in hopes
of basking in her otherworldly glow, or looked away in fear of being given an
underworldly curse.
I don’t think she sold a ton of peanuts, but there was a
weird aura about her that made me think that she cared less about her final tally and more about her purpose.
Speaking of which, Ronnie Woo-woo was also there, walking the aisles, dancing, smiling, taking pictures. But not woo-wooing. Not a sound came from his mouth.
Has he woo-woo'ed so much that he's damaged his vocal chords? Is he out of woo’s?
Or did he find some meditative place that told him not to
speak, only to radiate. Send out positive vibes and assume they’ll return. It certainly
didn’t affect the number of people who wanted to hug and dance and take pictures with
him.
There are a couple of lessons in Ho Pun and Ronnie Woo-woo’s
approaches. One, there are many different ways to
differentiate your brand, and being loud doesn’t always have to be one of
them.
And two, sometimes worrying about the end result gets in the
way more than you might think. Think
about what you’re doing and how you do it, not where it’s going to end up. And
somewhere in there, smile or dance. Or
look someone in the eye with the most direct intention you can muster. You never know what they’ll give you.
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