The Crescendo

by Scott Tanner | Writers, Flash Fiction, Readers

snow covered house near trees and mountain during daytime

A Reiteration of something I once read a very long time ago!

A spark ignites the kindle, creating an ember. From here, a flame needs tending. As an author, I pledge to remain ever vigilant, and keep a lookout for the best of ways and means, to keep my fire aglow.

One day, my creative writing teacher, a beautiful spirit, introduced to our class, the one-page story format. I had never heard of Flash Fiction. Thinking back, I don’t remember if it even existed as a literary writing tool.

Someone I never met wrote the story I am about to tell you. Embellishments aside, I am trying to pay homage to the original author. I am drawing inspiration from an old memory. I feel terrible because I cannot remember the title or his name. All I remember is a little about his technique, and the genesis of his tale. He impacted my life. He provided the spark that contributed to my wanting to become an author. For lack of an original title, I’m just going to call this piece

The Crescendo.

Alone, he sat, consumed by and within his high-backed green velveteen chair. His side table hosted a glass of his favorite single malt scotch whiskey, Glenmorangie; served neat, along with a separate glass of ice.

He opens the dog-eared coffee-stained page of his work. Somewhere near the start of the Third Act, for the hundredth time; he wordsmiths the Dramatic Action…

They covered their faces and hands, but to no avail; as they continued to garner scratches from the leafless barbed branches and their ensnaring twigs. His one hand holding a pistol, with one remaining bullet; while his other hand was wrestling with hers. Were they predators or prey? Who knows? He kept looking forward; she kept looking back. It would be dark soon. One could feel the temperature dropping as the snowfall continued to mount.

They needed to find shelter. Other than the crisp and crackling noise, courtesy of the snapping branches, coupled with the thumping of their feet, silence ruled. One last moment to catch their breath, one last hill to climb; one more push to find shelter.

They came upon a hunter’s cabin, atop a hill, facing the clearing below. They had hope. Maybe now they could escape this nightmare.

Making their way forward towards the cabin, he lifts the door latch and pushes it open. As if guided forward with the help of a silent but wispy gust of cold air, they enter the cabin.

Ten paces in, she claims her space by holding her lover back. Locked in each other’s gaze, she gives the order; evidenced by the directive — a slight nod and slow release of his hand. He moves closer, taking an additional ten steps, then gives pause.

Upon her orders, he shoots the old man in the head. Just moments earlier, the man had been sitting in his high-backed green velveteen chair, writing the last line of “The Crescendo”…

The purpose of the story was to introduce to our class various techniques or twists to employ when writing about how our characters roll through a story. The aforementioned example of beginning near the end and ending near the beginning was but one of the many techniques that we learned about.

There are many varied literary vehicles or tools from which to choose and employ. Using Flash Fiction as a modality of style, through setting, is one I find most intriguing.

One approach is to start with character first and let the story emanate outward from them. I could make a loose comparison of what’s now become mired within our literary vernacular, presented as a question for authors, Are you a Plotter, Panster, or some other hybrid creature?

The great Russian author Ivan Turgenev would start with characters first and story second. So, through the demonstration of a character’s actions, there would be greater congruency. His characters behave as they should behave as opposed to how he, as an author, wants them to behave.

I find both literary techniques especially useful when melded together. Begin with a character, then wrap them within a work of Flash Fiction; it can be as a back story. Even to something unrelated to some other tale of yours. The idea is to add greater overall depth to your literary work by starting with your character. And whatever actions he or she might take are based on how they should behave as opposed to how you would expect them to.

WTF Do I Know

by Scott Tanner | Readers, Flash Fiction, Freethinkers

A creative thought? Perhaps. A - musing? A must! A would-be rumination? Most definitely. A call to act? Yes, but when? But when...? After our how. Then we can begin! With A creative thought....

We’re sitting outside, having our early morning coffee. Our hideaway is on State and Main. From inside, we’re looking out. Beyond the town’s embrace, just past some well-tended hemp fields, we can still see and appreciate the ghostly “Fog pockets”; as they’re desperately trying to conceal themselves from the morning sun. They struggle to hide within the crevices the hills provide. There’s only one switch-back road. It’s a trucker’s secret. It allows for safe passage, making their way here, from somewhere way over there.

What if, while relaxing, drinking our morning brew, and shooting the s**t, we notice a truck careening down the hill; and it’s going way too fast? The driver’s aggressively blowing his horn. He’s still a good mile away, but he can’t go unnoticed by us, anyway.

However, others have noticed nothing unusual at all. Remember, ours is a small town and everyone else is just going about their daily business. That you and I are older now gives reason to take notice of the minor changes that nature, or rather life itself, gives to us; it’s obligatory.

Concerned. We don’t know if the driver will get his brakes back or run off the road. End up in a gully! Maybe go off a cliff. Or worse, what if he comes barreling through town? What damage or carnage can he inflict? Who knows? All we know is that we’re scared; other than that, we don’t know Jack-s**t!

And neither do you! I control the narrative, but that means nothing anymore, as most people don’t even know how to read. Nor are they inclined to learn. Young people today, all they know how to do is trim their thumbnails. Prove me wrong! Another privilege of getting older. We’ve earned the right to behave like two cantankerous old coots, haven’t we?

As a child, I remember when my father sat cross-legged on the dirt in the middle of the only town intersection, w/ a blinking street signal. I sat on his lap. He claimed we were sitting in the exact middle of the Continental United States. He said, “My bottom was sooooo big — it covered all four corners of the country.” Only to go on and tickle me until I begged for mercy. Trying not to beg, I went as long as possible. I never wanted him to stop. I miss him. Anyway, where was I? Where am I going? I’ve lost my brakes.

In some places, things change too much and too soon. Ours wasn’t one of those places; we lived and loved in our peaceful little town. Change was natural and inevitable, but metered; by whom, or what, I don’t have a clue.

So we need to warn people! And get the children out of the street. Let the shopkeepers know there’s a truck careening out of control. Coffee time is over.

That truck, — well, it’s your (F***’N BLANK). I think I may have seen him, her, it, them… before. Look! He’s trying to blend in with the ghosts on the hillside. Yeah, that’s not working for them. Even worse, it’s not working for you and me. Come join us for coffee; bring a friend! See what’s coming for yourselves.

F.Y.I.

There’s a rock w/ a dial on it, — it’s in the Berkshires. Located where New York, Massachusetts, and Connecticut border—I’ve sat on that rock. Maybe you should too; it’ll cleanse your chakras.

You may not know WTF is wrong with you, let alone what you need to do, to find out about your “Self”’ but at least you’ll come away knowing that there’s room for acknowledgement, and that’s the first step! It’s hard to see yourself when your mirror’s broken into a thousand pieces of shard glass.

To reconstitute your soul is akin to putting together those pieces of glass; don’t be surprised to find a few pieces have gone missing. Step back, squint your eyes. What you’ll see is a mosaic. The image that surfaces will be better, more complete than before you let and led others to destroy your “Self”.

Take solace, not umbrage in the fact these are or soon will be gone. And remember, I’m an old man, prone to ramble. I’ve earned that right! Hopefully, one day, you too will have your rights restored, you know, the ones you just recently gave away.

No Choice w/the Voice

by Scott Tanner | Writers, Freethinkers, Readers

” The voices in my head, jumped out and made my bed! “

No choice w/ the voice, persona or tense

I’m trying to find my voice for a recent writing project. Initially, I was vacillating back and forth between going with a first-person narrative point of view (POV). Where the story is told by my main character.

Or, a third-person omniscient, limited POV. Here, the narrator follows and becomes a part of the thoughts and actions of only my main character, who is also my protagonist.

I ran with both POV’s. In the first and last chapter, I’m using the third person omniscient, limited voice. I’m beginning with the first half of my ending, a.k.a. my resolution; ending with the second half of my resolution in my final chapter.

Beginning in the second chapter, my main character, who is a “Ghostwriter”, tells a story. His voice remains up to and through the end of the climax, in the second to last chapter.

Easier said than done! When I began this approach, right away, I felt something wasn’t sitting right w/me. Frankly, I was thinking I couldn’t pull this formatting technique off. (I can see why writers drink). I then stepped away from the work and let it breathe for a while.

About a week later, I came across a video interview; with Mark W. Travis, an accomplished screenplay writing consultant. He talked about how to engage the viewer or my case the reader, in such a way they allow themselves to become immersed in the actual story. This means that his emphasis is on tense. Specifically, in the present tense. Working in concert w/ POV.

This allows the reader to choose to become immersed in the story itself. I thought this technique was brilliant. It was straightforward and honest.

Even though I loved what he had to say, I also realized I was making things harder, not easier, for myself as an author. My confidence level (in my abilities) was now even lower than before.

Then Ms. Serendipity paid me a visit. On Thanksgiving Day, I was with my son. We had already eaten and afterwards we went and shot some pool,

(Digression #1, I’m so fortunate and have good reason to be thankful— as far as sons go, he’s the best son a father could ever hope to have).

I was telling him about the world-building aspect of my novel. I said how I drew inspiration from my father, (who passed away in 2001— He was an artist, architect and set designer in the motion picture industry).

A long time ago, my dad worked on two unique projects. One that housed the Spruce Goose (a large wooden framed aeroplane) under a geodesic dome in California; and another, a geodesic sphere in Epcot Center, in Florida. It’s here I could draw inspiration from his accomplishments and contributions,

(Digression #2, Similar in effect, to my son, my father was the best father a son could ever hope to have).

So indulge me, as I describe a coffee lounge where my main character works as a barista.

“The Dish”, as most regulars called it, had an odd shape. It’s worth remembering the interior design. It had a masculine edge, and a spartan feel. That was invigorating!

The smooth concrete floors are dangerous when wet. So be careful where you step. If you spill your drink, it’s up to you to clean up your mess; and before you leave, you’re responsible for bussing your table. Both the workers and patrons alike take pride in keeping the “Dish” clean. This is a popular place.

The main room itself is circular. One has to love the wainscotting, as it wraps around the entire room; it provides an arena feel. All wanna-be gladiators are welcome!

At the four-foot level, the curvature of the wall serves to embrace all who live within, underneath the dome. There’s even a ten-foot oculus atop its center. With glass prisms, allowing for natural light to be refracted and evenly distributed downward, on the floor below.

The acoustics are both accommodating and irreverent. You can hold a conversation with a friend standing clear across the room. Simply cusp your hands, lean into the wall, speak and listen.

Opposite the entrance, we have our stage. In the center of the room is the coffee bar with its “Silent Running” espresso machine. To order your drink, step up on the floor of the rotating bar. If you take a minute and look around, you’ll see how every table has a lava lamp. There are black, rounded art déco tables, accompanied by their metal and black plastic chairs. They’re taunting and daring you to sit and imbibe. There isn’t a ninety-degree angle anywhere to be found.

Structurally, a dome is heavy, and the Romans addressed this engineering challenge by adding broken glass, wood chips and other materials to lessen the weight and reduce the stress levels.

Today, the composition includes Hempcrete*, which was used instead of concrete. It’s roughly eight times lighter than cement. Between the dome walls was a geodesic*, skeletal framework.…

Here is where the magic lies. As I was describing the “Dish” to my son, I noticed he fell into the scene. He grew enamoured and allowed himself to become part of the story; only to catch himself, and awkwardly struggle to slip out of his stupor.

“Wait, wait pops! This is all make-believe, isn’t it?”

“Yes”, I replied

“Oh my God, we were just talking as if this place existed, yet I knew it didn’t. I lost my way…”, he said, with a laugh and a beaming smile.

That’s when I knew I can move my reader into the scene, w/ the present tense. And my vehicle is the setting.

I’ll use my settings for frequency. POV for energy; and tense with vibration. Thank you, Ms. Serendipity, and also please thank Tesla if you see him around.

Yet, even after all this, I was still feeling a little insecure and, frankly, a little afraid to try something that’s so far removed from my comfort zone. Do you believe in omens? If not, I hope to change your mind!

First, I was looking, or rather yearned, for validation of my ideas and feelings; but where do I look? I did not know.

To clear the clutter of the mind; to regroup; all to regain some sense of control— many will go to the gym, others will meditate, smoke pot, sleep or eat.… I’m a bit of a closet nerd. I usually will grab a book— not just any book. I want to be taken away, yes; but not too far and not so quickly.

My old standby— A Dartmouth Edition of Emerson Essays, (and reading for only the twentieth time) Essay III. The Poet. pg. 55. and I quote:

“… poets, are natural sayers, sent into the world to the end of the expression, and confound them, with those whose province is action, but who quit it, to imitate the sayers. But Homer’s words are as costly and admirable to Homer as Agamemnon’s victories are to Agamemnon. The poet does not wait for the hero or the sage.”

I found my validation. Here, Emerson proves that, to engage the reader, simply invite them to stand w/in a moment’s pause; allowing one to realize there’s no time for time to matter. Other than w/in an exhale of a moment’s breath.

Even a moment, when torched by irony, can resurface and forever remain, evergreen.

*Points of View (POV)

First person is the perspective of the writer; 1st person uses words like “I,” “my,” “me,” or “we.”
2nd-person is the perspective of the reader being directly addressed by the writer; 2nd person uses words like “you,” “your,” or “us.” ; and
3rd-person is the perspective of a different party who is neither writer nor reader. 3rd person uses words like “she,” “his,” or “they.” (Source: https://writingcommons.org/section/rhetoric/rhetorical-stance/point-of-view/ )

** Third Person Omniscient Limited

As w/ a third person POV, my narrator is neither the writer nor reader. Here the narrator follows only my main character around. He’s able to get inside the head of my Protagonist only. If I remember correctly, an example of this, would be 1984, by George Orwell.

Let’s see…

by Scott Tanner | Off the Deep-end

Thursday / November 18th / 2021...

I almost killed someone today, and for no good reason… I wonder, is there ever a good reason?

No, there really isn’t.

What about in self-defense? What if you are trying to thwart an enemy? What if, and what if, and how about what if?

No.

How about if we need to sacrifice just one, maybe two, okay — say three others, whomever they might be, for the greater good?

No.

Of course, it’s okay to kill under the guidelines set forth in Sun-Tzu, isn’t it?

You mean if it’s something you must have to survive, such as water, in self-defense; or if victory is a foregone conclusion? No, it is not.

It’s okay to kill or die for a cause you truly believe in?

No.

It must be okay to kill or die for a cause that others believe in, especially if they order you to do so!

No, you are incorrect.

What about those who are so very different from you and me. Their skin is of a different color. They’re uncultured. They are rude and ruthless. Their hearts are so far removed from ours.

No.

And what about those religious zealots? Surely many, if not most, deserve to be killed, don’t they?

Okay then, what if someone is just pissed off? Who cares if they’re an ignoramus, psychopath, have D.I.D., posttraumatic stress syndrome; or they’re an ideologue, a narcissist, have a low I.Q. — If anyone from the aforementioned group came along and killed a close friend or family member, YOU NOT ONLY HAVE THE RIGHT — YOU HAVE THE OBLIGATION– THEREFORE, YOU MUST KILL THEM(?)(!)(.)

If you are asking, demanding, or making a statement of fact, the answer is and always should be, No!

What about psychology, philosophy, or even within the animal and plant kingdoms, or say the natural laws that are all around us? Creatures kill, creatures consume, and creatures often celebrate life through killing. So, is this okay?

No.

With whom am I speaking? You’re certainly not God!

You’re correct.

Then who are you?

I am the one you want to be.

You make me want to kill you. I don’t have time for this. Not right now anyway… Not when my mind is so preoccupied. I’m broke. They have diagnosed me with cancer. Someone has falsely accused me of not only a crime I didn’t commit; but for a crime that never happened. This is beyond belief…

As I sit in my car at 5:00 am, I’m so cold, my windshield keeps fogging up. I am hungry. I really could use that bagel and coffee right now.

Okay traffic signal, I need to make my left; now stay green, stay green—man I need better glasses—next week; I need to remember to pick some up…

What’s that? A dog? It’s running across my path, or rather its path in the crosswalk. What’s that? An extended cable leash?

Can’t they see I’m trying to turn left? They…? Oh S**T, get out of my way!

Don’t they know I’m impaired? I cannot see. Why is that?

Is it because– I choose… not to see?

When I look in the mirror, I believe I’m looking at myself! I have a high level of self-awareness. Does the image see me?

Could I be a fool? Could I be the image in the mirror — looking and believing I’m looking at my image, in a mirror?

If so, am I not justified and even required to shatter the mirror? I think I’ll just bury my face in the broken pieces of glass; or just pick up a shard, and slit my throat? Let’s see…, maybe not. Why fester, is it not better to savor one’s “Sweet Digressions”?

Yes.

Cancer clear 1st year review coming next week(?). I’m not handling it well….

Alexandre Dum(b)as(s)

by Scott Tanner | Writers, Off the Deep-end, Readers, The Meandering Muse

Only in jest, can we rest!

Is this just my way of describing another date with Ms. Serendipity? As if knitting a sweater, am I creating something using threads of coincidence, weaving together unrelated characters, places, and events? Am I taking advantage of my not-so-literary license as a creative writer? I like Ms. Serendipity, but whenever we get together, that Murphy character always shows up and lambastes me about my exploits. Right in front of her, to boot! What’s up with that?

It’s when I’m half asleep that unusual things occur! Just the other night, shortly after I went to bed, I was restless. My conscience was channel surfing with my subconscious. I was extrapolating old memories, trying to bring them to a new reality, a realm, somewhere, sometime, in someone else’s future. Akin to Poe’s poem, I too was a captive within “A Dream Within a Dream.” As matter moves along, riding the waves of nothingness, then nothing matters. However, once we can observe nothingness, then nothingness becomes everything that matters. If I couldn’t come to terms with a pop-up image, then I would discard the old faded Polaroid memory, go back to my thought hamper, and once again, rummage through my past.

I knew not to fight the process. The more restless I became, the more I tossed and turned, the greater the impact of my soon-to-be-discovered epiphany would have upon my being. Only then could storing it within the edifice of my psyche even be possible. The worst thing I could, and often used to do, was just to roll with it. Even while in my slumberous stupor, I would lie to my “Self” just to appease my yearning to go back to sleep. “Oh, I’ll remember to write about this in the morning. I won’t lose the feeling I have. And I can hold on to the clarity of my thoughts, purpose, and panoramic vision… At least until I sit down to think and write out my vision(s) through reasoning. I can hold on to these feelings for at least a week…” Whenever I failed to get up and write down my feelings and capture these passing moments, the next day, I would find my “Self” abandoned. All that remained was nothingness, absent all the matter. Within that moment, I became the void!

Over the years, I‘ve learned to be proactive. I get out of bed, grab a pencil and a pad of paper or go to the computer and jot down my thoughts and feelings. When I come back to the piece the following day, or even later, I may still ask myself, “What was I thinking?” or I may say, “Okay, there’s something here.” Either way, I endeavor to decipher the message I had just received from the cosmos. After that, I can then figure out what to do with it.

Recently restless, I got up in the middle of the night to capture another elusive moment. It was a strange experience, imbued with several feelings but absent any signs of an impending epiphany. As I once was a predator, now, I am prey!

While sitting at my computer, fussing about, waiting for “Gadot”, I noticed I had a book right in front of me. I use it to elevate my keyboard. I’ve never even opened it up and flipped through it before. Though, as with many of you, I was familiar with the title. It was a copy of “The Count of Monte Cristo”, by Alexandre Dumas.

A brief digression… The last meandering thought and the reason I was tossing and turning was that I repeatedly asked myself, “If I had to guess who I might have been in a previous life, who would I’ve been?” Not who would I want it to be? If I had that option, I’d probably choose Buddha, Jesus Christ, or someone like that. I certainly wouldn’t choose Genghis Khan, Rasputin, Jack the Ripper, or you.

Anyway, at least a dreamscape of sorts was forthcoming. I don’t control the process at this stage. Time to get my lazy self out of bed before the feeling dissipates.

Where was I? Oh yes, as I sat, bewildered, I continued to entertain the question. It was a tough one; I had trouble staying focused within my quest. Once again, I meandered into my trove of old memories. I looked at some characteristics, traits, and things that I liked and didn’t like about myself and others. I took a deep dive; when I came out of my trance, I was still staring at that book.

I thought I would allow myself to get distracted, but for just a minute or two; what can it hurt? I opened the work with a short preface. It was about Mr. Dumas and told about how his art, with his melodramatic literary style, was congruent with how he lived his life. Hmmm, I can relate. Then I discovered how he was well-to-do, up and down financially but always remained overly optimistic. Mr. Dumas ‘… died penniless, but hopeful. Saying of death, “I shall tell her a story and she will be kind to me.”

As I write, everything that I write about unfolds with a constant sub-theme. As our tagline in our magazine “Kandavo” clearly states, “It’s about finding truth within fiction.” And lately, I have had a strong interest in learning all about and writing what I can with Historical Fiction. Mr. Dumas once asked “What is history? It is the nail in which I hang my novels”, he replied. Again I can relate.

And though I’m embarrassed to say with making money, I’ve made more money for more people than anyone I know. Yet on a personal level, money was not my god! And, like Mr. Dumas once boasted, “I have never refused money to anybody; except my creditors”, I too can relate all too well to the aforementioned passage. And if I am not careful, I too could die both broke and indigent.

Even my father would preface many a conversation with a joke, like the one— “When those close to you pass, your friends, neighbors and relatives… and they stand in front of St. Peter, just outside the pearly gates. He’s going to ask them one question. And if they get the answer correct, they go right into heaven. Spell the word, Love. Your relatives respond in kind, ‘l-o-v-e’ Correct! You’re in. Next, it’s your friends and neighbors; and you find everyone gets in. Now it’s your turn! This should be easy, you’re thinking… ‘Ok, says St. Peter, I just need you to spell one simple paltry word…’ Ok, let’s have it,” I said. ‘Spell Chrysanthemum…’ Ok, that wasn’t what I was expecting, so I’ve decided, metaphorically speaking, while I’m alive, I need to work on my spelling.

Okay, there may be some similarities, but to even think I may have been Alexandre in a previous life is ridiculous. Just because I once was an extra in an old Michael Keaton movie, and my name was Dumas.

Just because, like Alexandre Dumas, I too epitomize the would-be character in that old colloquial phrase “A fool and his money will soon part ways”.

Just because I told my son about a week ago, I have a calling to learn French. That doesn’t mean I was once a Frenchman named Dumas.

If it were true, it would certainly be both a blessing and a curse. A blessing, that he was a successful writer who led a very exciting life. A curse because I’m British; for an Englishman to go to bed one evening and when he awakens, he’s a Frenchman! Well, let’s just say that would go over like a loud fart in church.

Just because one of my favorite travelers of old, was Giuseppe Garibaldi, an Italian general who sported a flaming red beard and like Alexandre, he had many an adventure (some, or should I say, most were questionable) and many tales to tell (again questionable, with many outlandish embellishments)

Please excuse my digression: Did you know the state fish of California is called the Garibaldi? It’s flaming orange, and thank goodness they recently took it off the endangered species list. By the way, I’m just saying, it’s been my favorite fish for the last fifty years; why is that?

Maybe the only similarity to Dumas, Garibaldi, and others is that I too have an overactive imagination. I could boast of many an adventure with old friends. The problem is that most are still alive. And as a judge once said to me, “Mr. Tanner, maybe you should go to work for the Mafia! At least they know their secrets are safe.” It’s akin to that phrase about ‘What happens in Vegas…

I’ve just gone through life as a Dumb-ass and not a Dumas. Maybe there’s no such thing as reincarnation, maybe, maybe, maybe… who knows? Well, on that note, all I know is that it’s time to go on another adventure.

Fiji anyone?

Goodwill Godwilling!

by Scott Tanner | Street Smarts

Mind Your Own Business

I’m going to tell you a short story. Truthful, as far as memory allows. The actions that I took, the challenges I managed to successfully address, can be directly attributed to the lessons in a book I had bought way back when.

This tale would fall under the “My Dancing with Ms. Serendipity” series. Also, it qualifies for my “Counter-intuitive Series for Free-Thinkers”; now, if only I had two such series running.

Many years ago, I along with a good friend of mine, we’re perusing the business section at our local Barnes & Noble. I came across a book on marketing. I pulled the copy, flipped the pages, and quickly skimmed through the entire work.

“What are you looking at” asked Monty.

“A book on marketing”, I replied

“Did you check out the glossary, index, along with the about and forward sectionals”, he inquired.

“Yes”

“And”

“There are no references or citations to speak of…” I said.

“Then it’s of no value” he retorted.

“Hmm”

“Hmm, what?”

“Maybe the author is talking from experience”, I said.

So, I took a chance and bought the book!

Now the takeaway part of this tale occurred shortly after I bought and read the work. So I’m going to tell you about it, to the best of my memory. Like the referenced author below, I too am citation lite.

“How to Become a Marketing Superstar” by Jeffery Fox. Hyperion, 2003*

I read the work in one sitting. It’s an easy read, the author does a great job making his experiences resonate. One such adventure had to do when he was hired as a consultant to help an owner of several car washes turn things around.

The owner was receiving an inordinately high volume of lawsuits and daily complaints.

Mr. Fox was hired to ameliorate these problems. Upon review, he noticed how the owner had signs all over the place. The owner was attempting to indemnify himself from all would-be liabilities.

Fox noticed the signage that attempted to indemnify the car wash (owner(s)/management) from a litany of things that could go wrong simply by choosing to wash your car with them.

We’re not responsible for:

Broken antennas.
Lost change, jewelry, and other items
Minor scratches

And the list continued…

Throughout the car wash, a negative hue was cast.

After he conducted his preliminary due diligence he responded in kind. Mr. Fox had the owner tear down the negative signage, and replace them with new ones.

Ones that took a positive and caring approach; enhancing the customer experience by adding to, and dramatically improving the value proposition that was initially absent by the owner.

Should you not be thoroughly satisfied for any reason please let us know?
Regarding any damage to your vehicle, that you believe may have occurred during your visit or are looking for any particular misplaced items, again, please let management know immediately. We will do whatever we can, to adequately and with empathy to address your concerns.
Your satisfaction is what matters most!

This counter-intuitive approach had a happy ending for all involved. Complaints and lawsuits dropped dramatically. Customer retention, and repeat business activities increased from the get-go! It was a win, win for all.

Please continue to indulge me, in the telling of a tale within a tale.

Thanks to Ms. Serendipity, just after I finished reading the book, say within thirty days or so. I received a small consulting deal with… you guessed it! The owner of several car washes.

Immediately and with authority to boot, I tore down all the negative signs and replaced them with signs of a positive ilk. In short order, here too as with Mr. Fox’s experience, my owner’s business conditions immediately improved.

Complaints dropped, lawsuits became non-existent. Even worker attitudes changed for the better. You saw this in how they interacted with their customers. A smile and a few choice words can go a long way in building goodwill.

Even today that negative hue still permeates through many a business. The trigger for my writing this memory piece came from two places on the same day. The first was a local bagel shop. The second is a local sports bar.

At the bagel place, they’re always nickel and diming their customers. You want butter, extra fifty cents! How about using a credit card? That’s an extra fifty cents? WHAT! You want a refill on your coffee…

At the sports bar, they SPORT a sign; one that over the years I’ve seen more than I care to admit.

“We reserve the right to refuse service to anyone!”

I get it, and so do you! We understand “What extenuating factors come into play…” but that’s not addressing the issues of a customer “taking umbrage” with the house. Do you want your customers to feel that they’re being picked off and/or maybe they’re not all that welcome?

It has nothing to do with fifty cents here or there. And as with the Sport’s Bar’s attitude towards its customers, well it’s all about being and remaining cognizant of customer goodwill.

Authenticity, placing the customer first, taking action, and being appreciative of not only what you have to gain; but of what value you are able to provide to your customers. Is a key to success!

Old School thinking? Most definitely.

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