We can do better.

We can do better.

A saying you hear so often these days.

Apply it to anything you want to in the news headlines - any side you are on:

• COVID… we can do better: (protecting ourselves) (getting the shot) (getting people to work) (explaining medical freedoms) (whatever)
• Afghanistan… we can better: (supporting our troops/veterans) (helping refugees) (protecting our rights/involvement as Americans) (whatever)
• LGBTQ… we can do better: (raising our kids) (speaking about love and judgement) (whatever)

“We can do better.”

My “we can do better” talk is no where (and boy, do I mean NO WHERE) as important as some “we can do better” talks, but it’s my story that is really making me think about a lot and what story I want to leave the world.

** Side note: The irony in this blog is unreal. I am FULLY aware that I am about to not be excited about technology while using technology AND am even more aware that I can do better by not throwing others under the bus. Don't miss my point though: We all (me absolutely included) have a lot of work to do.**

When I bought Dunlaps, I knew that they were “not with the times.” And honestly, it only drew me in more despite knowing there was a lot of work to be done to spruce up the tech department. 

I went from virtually (no pun intended) no online presence whatsoever, very limited use of the credit card machine, absolutely NO online payment or invoicing options for customers, NO social media marketing, and NO website at all. 

So I got it all rolling. 

And all of it happened in 29 days.

2 - 9 days. Less than one month.

During COVID.

With no business experience.

With no QuickBooks guru or background.

With no marketing degree.

With no understanding of credit card fees.

Is it all stellar and perfectly flawless?

No.

Does it work seamlessly and fit the needs of every customer?

No.

Does it make my life simple and stress-free?

No.

But we had to get things rolling closer to 2010 than 1910. 

We are not in 2021 times. (But anymore I am wondering if that's not such a bad thing.)

In short, bringing the store up to speed *alone* was a monumental task and there was nobody in my wheelhouse who could guide me step by step.

Some was trial and error.

I’m not happy with everything, but I really feel that I can say I tried my best under the circumstances and am pretty damn proud of what transpired in those 29 days and what is continuously improving each week.

“We can do better.” Yes, I know I can. And I will.

And that brings me to my story...

Into my office walks two women who work for Google.

Immediately, they begin to tell me how “unsynced” I am. How many gaps are in my Google profile. How I am not noticeable online. How “busy” my website info and design is. 

Hold on, who are you? Where are you from? What do you do?

All while the phone rings to the point that I don’t have enough employees to take order calls. 

I was really taken aback.

They were really making me think: “Is my stuff really that miserably shitty?”

Samantha before the pandemic, Samantha the school teacher who HAD to please every single person EVERY SINGLE TIME, would have faltered. She so would have said something passive and put herself down about how her website wasn’t up to snuff and she didn’t know she could build it like X Y Z. And, maybe, she would have bit. 

But not this Samantha.

The women told me that they would get me on track - but it would take a lot of work to make all these loose connections happen again. 

$600 for the year, $134 a month after that, website building at $100 per hour should only take a few right off and then maybe an hour or two a month to maintain it.

Fast talking. 

They can be in to take pictures of every aisle, lots of angles in each aisle. 

That’s the package we should start with.

Faster talking.

I suck at math folks, but I’m getting quicker…

600+134(12)+300+100(12)= somewhere close to $4,000.

Year one. That's is what they wanted for one year to get me on Google to help grow my business.

The phone is ringing with orders. I should be answering the next line as I already have two people at the counter being helped and three on the phone with customers and it still rings.

And I then (in not so so many words) let them know that this wasn’t for me.

Mostly because you really insulted me. 

I took it super personally. (And probably shouldn't have.)

But here's the thing: if you are going to be in business with people, you aren’t going to sell a lot of you insult your potential customers.

You, ladies from Google, probably know a lot about algorithms, but you can do better walking into a bustling family owned and operated hardware store and immediately knocking our online presence.

You, ladies from Google, probably know a lot about technology, but it’s somewhat apparent that you don’t know a lot about people. (Well it’s a lot apparent because you didn’t make the sale with the human you talked to.)

You, ladies from Google, went "through my website" but didn't failed to find my story about getting started in the way we did in the time we did. So, did you go through my story? Did you get to know me as a person? Did you introduce yourself when you walked in the door? Did you ask me what I might be needing or hoping or wanting? Have we lost that much of society that that isn't the norm anymore?

We have a lot of work to do, folks.

The more I am out and about with the general public and adults (whoohoo for not being in school all day!) the more I see just how much the world wants to go back to a handshake and your word meaning more than anything else. How badly people just want to go back to Mayberry and that's why they like shopping here.

It's not about the technology; it's about the fact that there isn't much technology. 

Rely on people and literal word of mouth.

If you need something, call us or stop in. 

Don't try to shop my aisles on Google. I'm not there, and I don't want to be.

Because at Dunlaps - we can do better . 

Until next time,

Samantha