A painful problem

The temperature readback on the dash said 109 F.

It was hot.

I turned off the engine and opened the car door.

As my left foot planted on the gravel driveway, the full heat of the sun hit my face.

Holy cow it was hot!

I quickly walked to the front door of the house we had rented for the week.

The email from our host was open on my phone, and I scanned it to find the front door entry code.

I punched it in and hit the unlock button.

The light turned red as the mechanism made a buzzing sound.

The door did not open.

I tried again.

Same.

I tried again.

Stubbornly defiant, the unlock button glowed red and buzzed once again.

Crap.

By this time, the rest of my family was standing behind me.

Luggage in hand, sweat dripping from multiple brows.

This house was miles outside the city.

Remote.

And the door code didn’t work.

At that moment, nothing else about the booking mattered.

The decor.

The square footage, the number of bedrooms.

The picturesque sunsets from the back porch.

Even the thoughtful welcome basket they left for us on the kitchen counter.

We were hot and tired, and the door wouldn’t open.

You see, we had an immediate, painful problem.

The only thing in the world that mattered at that moment was finding a solution to the problem.

Luckily, the customer service rep for the management company was great.

After a couple of text messages and an alternate entry code, we were in the door.

As we breathed a sigh of relief in the cool, air conditioned house, I looked around and saw the welcome basket in the kitchen.

“Nice touch,” I thought.

I’m glad the management company jumped into action to solve our immediate, pressing problem.

Rather than reminding me of the square footage and pointing towards the welcome basket.

They understood that the other features of their product meant nothing at all unless it first solved the problem or fulfilled the desire that originally prompted me to purchase.

The core problem/ desire was that my family needed a place to stay in this particular area at this particular time.

If that need was not fulfilled, I was going to be pretty upset about spending a couple of G’s with their company.

(Even if they let me keep the welcome basket.)

Selling “nice to haves” is difficult if the customer has an unmet need or unsolved problem.

You see, when selling “nice to haves,” your competition is everything else they could spend the money on.

That’s a lot of competition, friend.

Can you win that game?

However, if you solve a painful problem…

Worst case, your only competition is other solutions.

Make sense?

Don’t pitch me your welcome basket when I’m standing outside in the blazing sun trying to get the door to open.

Instead, give me the door code, then pitch the welcome basket.

Be cool,

Greg

P.S. If your emails aren’t converting, maybe you’re pitching welcome baskets to folks who just want some AC and a drink of water first. Want me to take a look?

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