Once upon a time, long, long ago, when landlines ruled, and the internet sounded like someone screaming into a pillow behind your massive desktop, I was a twenty-something lip balm maker winging it in a grungy studio in Portland, Maine.
The marquee was my patio.
One day, somewhere around 1997, I was on the phone with a customer service rep from Gateway Computers. You may remember them, they came in distinct cow-patch-printed boxes. It was a clever marketing technique, but not one that apparently had sticking power.
My devotion to Gateway was big.
I had a problem with my computer, one that required a long download, or upload—whichever it was required me to sit on the phone with Pete, a very helpful guy who walked me through where to click, and what to do. And then, we waited. As I watched the gray bar creep slowly across my screen we got to chatting.
“So… it’s a good name, Mad Gab’s. What do you do, if you don’t mind me asking?”
I did not mind. I was tickled pink to be asked.
“I make lip balm. Mad Gab’s Lip Lube.”
“Wow, really? That’s interesting! Where do you sell it?”
“Mostly natural food stores, but I’m going on QVC soon, so we’ll see how that goes.”
“Cool. Have you ever shown it to the Ritz-Carlton hotels?”
“Uh, no, definitely not.”
“My sister works for them, maybe she can take a look!”
Sweet Pete, what a guy.
I jotted down Pete’s sister’s info in my trusty spiral-bound notebook, to send her a package.
“Hey, can I get your info, too? I’d like to send you some goodies.”
“Oh, you don’t have to do that.”
“I know, but you’ve been super helpful, and I appreciate the introduction to your sister!”
“Okay, sure, it’s not necessary, but I’d love to try your products.”
Pete and I talked about where we grew up, how he liked working at Gateway (he did, very much), and how I liked being a lip balm peddler (I could not imagine doing anything else). Hours passed, and finally, the gray bar was complete and my computer behaved. Order was restored and we said goodbye.
I mailed out two brown boxes to Pete and his sister Liz. I slapped colorful circle labels all over the outside before dropping them at the post office. I believe it’s important to make boring things—like waiting on the phone or opening mail— fun, if possible and I always find it possible.
Two weeks later, Liz called to say how delighted she was and proceeded to fax me orders for dozens of Ritz-Carlton gift shops around the country. They would now be purveyors of Mad Gab’s Lip Lube and Elephant Lube! A big win, with an iconic retailer all because Pete and I took a few minutes, (or rather, a couple of hours!), to connect in a moment that could have been filled with annoyance or frustration.
The following month when I trained the producers before my stint on QVC, I arrived with my red Radio Flyer wagon full of lip balms, wearing a purple dress, fruit-printed tights and my hair tied up with a paint brush. The next day, when I arrived on set, everyone remembered me and together we sold more lip balm in four minutes than I had the entire year before!
We never know what might happen if we take the time to connect, to make an effort that might seem futile. A slow trade show? More time to chat with retailers, vendors, and thank the hosts of the show. Long line? I make a friend. For me, it’s what makes this zany lip balm journey—one that just crossed the thirty-five-year mark—an endless challenge and infinitely more interesting!
This is me in the hat I wore on QVC, much to the make-up artist’s chagrin. She kept asking,“Are you sure?”. I was sure.