Always Be Closing

Close your emails with an expression of gratitude and you'll boost the chance of response by 36%, according to a study by Boomerang.

While there are lots of ways to say "thanks," the software company sampled the closings in 350,000 emails and concluded these three expressions are the top performers:

• Thanks in advance garners a 65.7% response
• Thanks garners a 63% response
• Thank you garners a 57.9% response

There must be 50 ways to leave your reader (Forbes says so, anyway).

But the above three work best.




HAT TIP: Thanks in advance to Mike Hatch for suggesting this post.

Unkind Cuts

A telling statistic lies deep within CEIR’s new report, Cost to Attract Attendees.

It could in part explain why association-owned shows have recently seen a falloff in attendance, exhibits and income.

Association organizers, according to the report, have cut their marketing spend during the past four years.

To learn more, read my post on CEIR's new blog, Event.

I MIss the Mob

In Anything You Want, entrepreneur and blogger Derek Sivers recounts a trip he made to Las Vegas for a trade show.

On the ride from the airport to his hotel, Sivers asked the taxi driver how long he'd lived there.

"Twenty-seven years," the driver replied. "I miss the mob.”

The cabbie then explained what he meant. Doing business in Las Vegas was simple when the mafia ran the casinos. When the mob made money, you made money. But corporate takeover of the casinos brought hordes of penny-pinching MBAs to town. They cheapened everyone's experience.

“When the mafia ran this town, it was fun."

The lesson Sivers took home from his driver: keep your business simple, and keep its goal enjoyment.

"Never forget why you’re really doing what you’re doing," Sivers writes. 

"Are you helping people? Are they happy? Are you happy? Are you profitable? Isn’t that enough?"

Lord, Thank You for Donald Trump

Lord, nobody knows better'n you, I ain't a prayin' man. 

But I thank you every mornin', noon and night for my 45th president.

Call me un-citified, but I once thought all them so-called "marginalized" folks (you know, African Americans, gays, Muslims, Jews, women and all) was a little bit thin-skinned, complaining like they do day in and out about prejudice.

I thought they was imaginin' the glass half empty. Don't they know America's a great country?

But you brung me my 45th president, Lord, to pick up the rock that's America and show me all the insect-life teemin' beneath. 

All them vile creatures thinking ugly thoughts, dreaming ugly dreams, harboring ugly desires... you know, all them racists and sexists and bigots living' below ground.

I no longer think about all those marginalized folks the same way, Lord, and I thank you for that. They ain't imaginin' things after all.

Now I ask you, Lord, please put the rock back, before more of them creatures get loose.

And, if you can't, please find me a nice apartment in Toronto.

Amen.

More or Less

Seth Godin defines the "race to the bottom" as the drive to deliver more for less.

Above all qualities, winning the race demands inveterate stinginess and a knack for constant streamlining.

"The problem with the race to the bottom is that you might win," he warns.

Today's winner, inevitably, becomes tomorrow's loser.

The "race to the top," on the other hand, is the drive to deliver more for more.

Some customers—not all—value more ("more meaning, more insight, more joy") enough to pay more for it.

The race to the top is the one you want to join, Godin says.

"The race to the top is focused on design and respect and dignity and guts and innovation and sustainability and, yes, generosity."

Sound a bit fanciful?

Then consider the difference between a small hotel and a boutique one.

My wife and I routinely lodge in Wildwood, New Jersey, so we can visit relatives who live nearby.

Our most recent stay was in a small hotel. It filled our needs, but barely. And even though—with its faux mid-century fixtures and decor—it strove to be memorable, the hotel was frighteningly forgettable. A good portion of each day, it wasn't even staffed; guests were on their own. The linens were commercial-grade. The common areas were stark. The self-serve breakfast was foodservice quality. And the coffee was bland.

Our prior stays, in contrast, were at Candlelight Inn, a B&B. The owners deliver on their website's promise to "make memories every day:"

• The building and its furnishings are period—not faux—Victorian
• Each room for let is markedly unique
• The ambiance begs you to relax, feel good, and feel pampered
• The owners are keen to learn your tastes and preferences, and let you know they value your business
• The owners strive to deliver more, including a culinary surprise or two every day

During future visits, we know where we'll stay.

So what's your business model?

More for more?

Or more for less?