The LuxMob Info Tags

One of the great benefits of belonging to a health club is the huge variety of exercise equipment that’s available. It’s also a great place to meet and observe a wide cross section of society. Here are just a few of the more notable health club regulars:

1. Screaming Banshee –- We’ve all been focused on our workout when out of nowhere comes a blood-curdling sound from the corner of the weight room. You look over and there’s a guy doing laterals with 20 lb dumbbells. It doesn’t matter what the exercise or weight is –- he’s screaming with every rep. If it helps his workouts, then more power to him! It certainly makes a good case for a Walkman.

2. The Strainer –- The Strainer can often be observed loading up a barbell or weight stack with poundage that he is unable to perform even a single rep in good form with. A favorite exercise of the Strainer is the triceps press down machine. He will position the pin almost near the bottom of the weight stack and then proceed to wrestle the stack downward with every ounce of his being. It’s truly painful to watch, but like a car wreck, it’s hard to look away.

After using most all of the muscles in his upper body along with several in his lower, he finally manages to complete a rep. “That’s one!” Yep, only nine more to go. Oh yeah, don’t bother trying to be helpful and tell him to use less weight. You’ll only be greeted with a nasty glare.

3. iPod Head Banger –- this is usually a young person, male or female, who seems to have ear buds permanently implanted into their head. Music can be a great inspiration during your workouts, but these folks turn the volume up to 11. Of course everyone in the immediate area can groove to the same jams due to the sound leaking out from their ear buds.

The hazard is that Mr. or Ms Head Banger is usually oblivious to their surroundings and you’ll need to shout to get their attention if the need arises. At least you can hear them coming and give them a wide berth.

4. Stanley Steamer –- it’s hard to believe, but there are people who actually use their gym memberships just to avail themselves of the locker room amenities. Take Stanley Steamer for example. He may come in on his lunch hour or after work and do some quick cardio work and then it’s right back to the locker room. The cardio work is just a pretext for what comes next.

He then will do alternating shifts between the dry sauna and steam room until he’s sweated out every last drop of water from his body. This process can go on for up to an hour. “Great for the pores!” he’ll tell you as he stands there glistening like a Thanksgiving Butterball. You go Stan!

5. Ken and Barbie –- there are some gym regulars who are so genetically gifted that they have gone into permanent “maintenance mode” for they’re training. Their routines consist of a solid core of shaping exercises with the strict rule that they must never, under any circumstances, ever shed one drop of sweat!

No hair is out of place and they look spectacular in their Lycra workout gear. In fact, you seem to never see them wearing anything else, even outside of the gym.

6. Chatty Cathy –- Cathy is a relatively new species that has evolved with the proliferation of cell phones and the trend to use them no matter where we are. She will take up position on the adductor machine and wait for a call –- any call –- which soon arrives without fail.

She’ll talk away for minutes on end. Occasionally passing the cell phone to any friends who have joined her for a “workout”. She’ll use these breaks to get in a few reps on whatever machine she’s parked herself on. Just to be fair and balanced, there are also plenty of Chatty Carls as well.

7. Swiss Ball Magician –- this is usually either a personal trainer or staff member who has learned a large repertoire of stability ball exercises from a special course or secret training manual. I marvel at the endless variety of moves they possess!

They’re on top of the ball, under it, along side it, between the legs with it, and around the back. They make the Harlem Globe Trotters look like pikers! Actually, I pay close attention when they’re around and try to cop some of their moves.

All of these types are well-meaning folks and they are certainly preferable to some of the knuckleheads that sometimes show up at the gym. They make going to the gym the enjoyable and enriching experience that it is.

About the Author

Rich Rojas writes elliptical trainer reviews and articles on health and fitness at EllipticalHome.com

So you’re thinking about going country? It’s time to abandon the frenzy of city life, drop the ‘G’ from the end of your verbs and trade your Gucci for goats. You long to be in a place where business is done on a handshake, where your backyard is bountiful and where folks welcome you with warm apple pie and a smile. You want the simple life.

Over 1.6 million people moved to rural communities during the first five years of this decade. Several stayed. This migration continues – reinforced by dozens of national and regional periodicals presenting sanitized ‘country chic’ to millions of armchair rednecks. Having read a myriad of books and magazines about goin’ county, you are convinced it is for you. Why not?

Editorials immerse you with prose of serenity found. You are infatuated by the ideal of carvin’ your own nitch in the wilderness, collectin’ the morning eggs and whittlin’ on the porch swing each evening. Throughout the country, gentlemen greet women with the tip of a hat and a polite, “Howdy Mam.” You long to raise your children in a community where graciousness abounds while folks commune with nature in perfect harmony. With each flip of the page of County Cool Magazine you feel your stress level dip.

Before you lapse completely into a coma, bear a few things in mind. Full-page glossies of family reunions held beneath towering, shabby-chic barns make for better magazine copy than centerfolds of locals trying to avoid making eye contact with your U-Haul. Stylized black and whites of cowboys branding in the parched mid-day sun sell better than snapshots of the Mayor’s dead horses being left to rot all summer long, directly in the center of town. Furthermore, triumphant tales of battling the elements flow better than ancient country septic lines. No one knows why the media doesn’t ‘glam-up’ peeing in your barn. It must just be a fickle public.

Fickle indeed. I for one moved my son from our life long home in San Diego to my birth state of South Dakota three times before it stuck. Each time I recoiled in under a year. Best friends, scores of humanities, the Pacific surf and Thai food are a lot to give up at one time. Harder still was the shattering of my rose colored glasses.

The secret to a successful relocation is knowing what to honestly expect so you can laugh cathartically when the inevitable bizarre scenarios emerge. Sudden disillusionment is rarely a knee-slapper. Nonetheless, once adjusted, country life is closer to Nirvana than most get here on Earth. Thus, while everyone else pumps pure country sunshine straight up your knickers, I consider it my obligation to provide balance to the Universe.

Almost daily I question my reasons for living in the hinterland. For these moments of apprehension, I maintain lists in my mind. My lists remind me both what drove me out of California and why I cannot abandon country life. A hardy dose of big city burn out definitely came into play. For starters, I realized I was so sick of commuting I‘d rather endure seven months per year in an icebox with no sunlight than sit in another traffic jam. With that thought alone I was ready to pull up my roots. I also decided to move.

In fact, developing a loathing of the Urban Jungle was vital to my eventual ‘success’ in relocating. In retrospect, my twig was definitely about to snap. Of course, so many city folk run around with fully bent twigs, we never realize the contorted conditions of our existence. That many people living in close proximity, under the confines of excessive regulations, is the proverbial pressure cooker.

Urbanites and recent country converts wondering if your view on life may be intensely contorted are welcome refer to my lists. They provide perspective. For example: Signs of how ‘screwed-up’ you may be would include the following.

You’re having your morning coffee, a cow walks through the front yard. You don’t own a cow. You freak out, hit 911 and sue the Meat Packers of America.

You believe shoes matching your nail polish is in any way a daily priority.

You don’t recognize that it is morally bankrupt to apply for a permit from a homeowners association to put out a lawn ornament.

You carry more electronic gadgets on your person than Radio Shack inventories.

You drive to work past ‘that same old group of homeless people.’

You smile and say, “Hi,” to strangers only because you know it screws with their minds.

Your horse board expenses equal the Gross National Product of Guatemala

You’re convinced you are invisible and need two years of plastic surgery just so city gentlemen won’t let the C-Store door spring back in your face.

You pitch a fit when your favorite salad bar serves cheese made with non-vegetarian rennet, then drive the kids to Burgers Burgers Burgers.

Your children spend more time in the TV den than in treetops and you think that’s acceptable.

You get a building permit and three estimates to hang a painting.

Any chimes ringing? If so, remove yourself form Urbania immediately! Your twig is at maximum contortion! Give the country three years and you will stay. Transition is difficult, but once your up-tight attitude is vanquished, your twig unbends. These are the indicators you are settling in to the ‘Simple Life.’

You’re having your morning coffee. A cow walks through the front yard. You don’t own a cow. You sit down and drink your coffee.

Shoes’ matching each other is low on the list of daily priorities.

Your outhouse is not just a chic lawn ornament.

You save getting the chickens drunk for when you have houseguests.

You have no idea where your cell phone went, but the Border Collie is wearing your pager.

You drive to work past ‘that same old herd of buffalo’.

Your bird feeder expenses are equivalent to the Gross National Product of Canada.

Elk mounts ordain the walls of your favorite salad bar.

Your children spend more time in the their tree house than in school.

Yes, these are definitely telltale signs, you have lost that city pace. Although you can never voluntarily raise your stress level back to match city slickers, you have not lost yourself completely. Search the little places. Vestiges of your past will appear. These are the traits of an American Hybrid.
While having your morning cappuccino, a cow walks through the front yard. You don’t own a cow. You toss it a biscotti.

You can’t decide whether to paint the walls of the outhouse in a contemporary or impressionistic motif.

You use the word motif in the same sentence with outhouse.

You actually make homemade preserves – wild chokecherries with a boisterous zinfandel you picked up in Napa last season.

Mascara before milking.

You winter in the gulf of Siam. You summer in bib overalls.

You smile and say, “Hi,” to strangers only because you know it screws with their minds.

You could never shoot a deer, but you can dress that sucker out in under two hours.

You fence in a sarong and thongs. (This one gets the neighbors talking.)

You frequently run to town for Hawaiian Tofu and Goat Chow.

You have a different pair of hiking boots for every occasion.

Egyptian cotton sheets and a commissioned replica of Picasso’s Woman with Three Breasts enclose the baby chickens being reared in your bedroom closet.

It’s true, every day more and more of us are getting too screwed up to ever return to the city. Still, for all our differences country folk and city slickers posses one commonality. Neither group thinks twice about the US Government’s Food Pyramid. I guess we have to start somewhere.

Rural Relocation – Considerations and Adjustments is an excerpt from the satire Bitch Unleashed: The Harsh Realities of Goin’ Country available through your favorite bookstore. A free e-book copy of Bitch Unleashed is available on Nola Kelsey’s web site at www.NolaKelsey.com.

I was at Macy’s the other day checking out pots and pans. The salesman came
up to me and told me about a set on sale for $99. marked down from $300. It
was EXACTLY what I had been looking for to replace our teflon bare pans! I said
let me go call my husband. A hundred bucks is still a hundred bucks, right?

So
Denny and I decided to get them. I went back and grabbed a box with a small
saute pan to add to the boxed set on sale. I stood before the display and
grabbed the larger box underneath. At one point I noticed that the display was
shifting a tad. All the pots and pans were displayed along with glass (glass
being the operative word here) jars filled with gourmet mustards and sauces.
Other ‘glass’ jars were filled with rice and pasta … well rice for sure… and I
think the other was pasta…..
As I said… I noticed the display began to shift… in s-l-o-w m-o-t-i-o-n…. you
know how that is? You have time to envision the inevitable end? The disaster at
hand?

The crash was awesome! Rice and gourmet sauces…EVERYWHERE. It was hard
to decipher which was louder… the SCREAM of the salesgirl nearby… or the
actual crash!
Sheesh a ma neesh I thought… even in the midst of this… CALM DOWN! As we
all know… I am not exactly a low keyed person once prompted in the direction
of excitement. Yet… I still felt the salesgirl was a bit premature. I mean, the
items had not fully landed!

‘DON’T MOVE!!’ exclaimed the salesgirl as she surveyed the final damage.
Meanwhile the clerk who had first talked me into getting the pots and pans had
arrived at the scene.

“Why didn’t you ask me to get them for you?” he said with mournful regret.

Keep in mind… I am still standing there… remembering the salesgirls cry of
‘DON’T MOVE!’, holding the boxes in place against the display. I am sort of
wondering how long I must stand in this position.

The salesgirl begins yelling at all wanna be passers by…”DON’T COME THIS
WAY!! GO AROUND… THERE IS RICE ALL OVER THE FLOOR… IT IS ‘VERY’
DANGEROUS!!!”
Naturally… EVERYONE… from far and wide in the whole store was curious at
this point.
I had to move… ya know? Just how long was I to stand in that weird
position?….I did… and the final jar of mustard… flew to the ground, splattering
everywhere the sauces and rice and what not, had missed.

“NOOOO000000ooooo!’ I heard the salesgirl exclaim… adding to the drama.
“DON’T WALK ON THE FLOOR… THERE IS RICE ‘EVERYWHERE … AND ‘GLASS!”
“STAY THERE!” she redirected her attention back to me.

Hummm I thought after another 3-4 minutes… am I to stay in this spot
‘forever’? I decided to break another one of her newly set rules and tip toed
ever so carefully onto the carpet.
Her LOOK…WOULD KILL!
“OK then”, I said, “Well I would still like the pots and pans”
“Come this way”, said the salesman, who had first helped me, as he quite
gingerly picked up the boxes from still another display. (I think they must get a
commission)
I was glad to get out of there needless to say.

As I left I could still hear the salesgirl directing potential traffic… “STOP!…
DON’T COME DOWN THIS WAY… GO A-R-O-U-N-D!!”
When I went home I went through my cupboards, gathered up all the worn pots
and pans in question and replaced them with my shiny new set! Awesome! I
made a couple eggs for Denny and they were fabulous!

What can I say… I have never been graceful and never been a dancer… I am
exercising though and I think I heard or read somewhere that makes one more
sure on their feet and clears ones head!

About Me

Name:Kathy Ostman-Magnusen

Location:Hawaii, United States

Aloha! I am a figurative artist and Illustrator. If you check out my website you
will see that I am very prolific in oils. My paintings are collected worldwide. I
also do sculpture; images available upon request. I have illustrated for Hay
House Inc. , Neil Davidson, who was considered for the Pulitzer Prize in feature
writing, and several other publications. I also enjoy story writing and poetry. All
of the paintings,stories and poems are written by me. Check out my website:
http://www.kathysart.com

Copyright 2006 Richard Grady

I built my first website approximately five years ago and since
then, I have always designed and built my own sites. This
process has served me very well and over the years, my web
building skills have advanced considerably (mostly through trial
and error!). I have always recommended to my customers and
subscribers that they too learn how to build their own sites and
this is for two reasons:

1. It means that you know exactly what is going on with your
site and how it actually ‘works’. As you have built it piece by
piece, you know, quite literally, every aspect of it.

2. Doing the work yourself will save you a small fortune on web
design costs.

During the past couple of weeks though, I have done something
that I would have previously not even considered doing - I have
started to talk to a professional web designer with a view to
hiring him to build a new business website for me!!!

Why I hear you ask?

Well the answer is simple - because he can do a much better job
of it than I can AND he will take on all of the stress that the
project would have caused me.

I have an idea for a new online business (totally unrelated to
Internet marketing/eBay or any of the other areas that I
currently work in) and it needs a professional site with quite a
bit of ‘behind the scenes’ functionality. There is nothing like
it around at present which means that the functions I require
are fairly unique to this project. I have spent some time
talking to different programmers that I know around the World to
see if they can pool their expertise and write different bits of
the software required and link everything up through the website
that I build but it was just getting too fiddly.

I was at the point where I was ready to toss the whole project
out of the window when I took a step back and looked at things
from a completely different angle. What I really needed was one
person (or team) to take on the entire project and simply
provide me with the new website based on the brief I supply them
with.

So that’s exactly what I have done. I have a rough idea of what
the site will cost and admittedly, it isn’t going to be the few
hundred dollars that it would have cost me BUT the end result
should be far more professional and will be produced to my exact
specification. Most importantly though, it takes away all the
sleepless nights that I would have experienced as I went through
the process of trying to get everything to work together.

With this in mind therefore, I would like to amend the advice
that I have been giving out for the past few years……

Learn how to design and build your own business websites BUT
when you have learned how to do this, DO consider hiring
professionals and outsourcing some of this work as and where
possible

Any real Beatle fan knows that Stu Sutcliffe was the original bass player,who died of a brain embolism before the Beatles became famous. But what if it hadn’t been Stu with the deadly weakness, but rather…?

There is very little time left now. The meeting will take place in a matter of hours: an event so significant for future generations that nothing can be allowed to change it in any way. I have found the boy: a cheerful soul with wide eyes that question the world with amusement. He does not yet know the path that is set for him, or the tiny thing inside his brain that brings me here through the oceans of time. We agreed that it is a task that must be done for the peace of souls everywhere.

From my place of concealment across the square I wait for him to appear on this cloudy day. In the skies I see a vortex that promises more storms but the people around me, simple people with low reception levels they do not understand, pass by in their life patterns. Once the boy is in sight, my timing will allow me to meet him at the shop window where he pauses without exception every day to stand and admire. I am programed with every trace of memory from the projection undertaken by the finest minds in our universe. There are no randoms not accounted for: no variations not calculated to the infinite degree.

I see him now. The boy comes around the corner whistling a tune of his own making, with eyebrows high in delight as the activity in the square greets his vision. For a moment he slows as he passes the shop they call the baker, but then resumes his journey across the square directly towards me where I stand close to the shop that intrigues him so. Every step he takes is more important than he can ever know, but his cheerful smile shows none of this as he reaches the window of the store that sells instruments of music and stops with hands in pockets to stare in familiar routine.

If he were to look at me, he would see only another boy his own age, but his attention is unwavering and complete on one of the items in the window. He leans forward until nose touches glass. Hofner…he says out loud to nobody. Loovely, he says and his focus is so complete that I take three swift steps towards him, swirl the cloak of transformation over him and the deed is done.

I turn away from the shop window and resume my journey. In my mind are random thoughts of how to get enough money for the music instrument, with bursts of spontaneous melodies in the background. A part of my mind sees images of playing a guitar sitting on a bed in a small but friendly room. I walk on.

It is 30 minutes later and I have come to an open field which a small festival has filled with music, banners and the chatter and laughter of two hundred people. I have only just reached the first stall when someone calls my name and I turn to see my friend Ivan smiling at me while the activity of the fair flows around him.

Come over here, he says, I’ve got someone you should meet. I follow him deeper into the fairground to stop in front of a small and rickety stage barely three feet off the ground.

Sitting at the corner with legs dangling over the edge is a skinny youth in a black shirt and jeans with hair combed back in extravagant sculpture and a cigarette dangling from the corner of his thin-lipped mouth. His left hand is adjusting the tone of the strings of the guitar he cradles on his legs while his eyes measure me with care.

Hey, Johnny…Ivan says with a measure of casual excitement to the skinny figure…got someone you should meet… he’s a guitar player too…

Johnny squints through the smoke of the cigarette at me.

Oh yeah?…he says.

Yeah…says Ivan and throws his arm around my shoulders.

Johnny…says Ivan…meet Paul McCartney…

Copyright – Bill Dollar 2005

Bill Dollar is a survivor of the record company wars. He currently lives on a small farm somewhere in the southern hemisphere, amongst cats,dogs and cobras.He writes songs he likes, because he’s not hearing anything worthwhile on the radio. Hear what Bill calls music: www.billdollarmusic.com

A is for Anti-Virus: she got it from my Uncle.

B is for Backup: always look in your rear view mirror first.

C is for Caddy: part of computer that holds a coffee cup.

D is for Defrag: a popular dance in the 1920’s.

E is for Email: post office talk for express mail.

F is for Folder: before I pack a dress, I fold er.

G is for Game Port: cruise ships dock there to play.

H is for Hard Drive: going from Toronto to Florida by car.

I is for Internet: a basketball has to get inter net to score.

J is for JPEG: similar to a square peg in a round hole.

K is for Keyboard: I hang my keys here so I don’t lose them.

L is for Laser Printer: placed on eye during laser surgery.

M is for Memory: deteriorates unless I use it.

N is for Newbie: a recent addition to the hive.

O is for Online: a covered row when playing Bingo.

P is for Program: usually handed out at beginning of a show.

Q is for Quit: don’t ever!

R is for Ram: a male sheep.

S is for Software: the best clothes to buy.

T is for Traffic: always heaviest at rush hour.

U is for URL: short for You Are Loved.

V is for Virus: the reason we get vaccinations.

W is for WYSIWYG: a sissy wearing a toupee.

X is for X-Axis: dig for treasure here, but not with an axe.

Y is for Yahoo: often yelled after a win.

Z is for Zipped File: another name for zippered briefcase.

Carol Bremner is a computer loving member of the gray generation. Her websites, http://www.creativehomecomputing.com and http://www.motivatedtolearn.com promote computer literacy in the home for the over 50 crowd.

I’m back at my restaurant enjoying a nearly cold cup of coffee
(without the whitener) as I began to read one of the back pages
of my newspaper.

The top article had a title like Pentagon Spending Under Review.
The story had something to do with hammers, toilet seats and
coffee makers, or something like that.

Further down on the page, a headline caught my attention. I
think it read Homeless Population Rises. What followed was
frightening.

At the very bottom of the page was this tiny little
advertisement for Tool Liquidators, Home of the Ninety-nine Cent
Hammer!. Well, it all fell into place after that. I paged the
waitress for some more coffee and figured this out.

Tomorrow, the government sends agents of the FDIC, FEMA, NRA,
and even all the local dog catchers to every homeless shelter
and to every welfare office across the country. Their job is to
deliver to every adult in the country at or below the poverty
line a booklet of vouchers.

These vouchers are redeemable only at their local Tool
Liquidators outlet. And what they buy with their vouchers can
only be sold to the Pentagon.

The Pentagon is already accustomed to paying $600 for hammers.
And according to this article I read, they even pay upwards of a
couple of thousand dollars for Mr. Coffee coffee makers.

You don’t even want to know what they pay for screwdrivers!

So, I figure, those folks with vouchers shop at Tool
Liquidators, pay ninety-nine cents for a hammer, and sell it to
the Pentagon for $600. That’s a profit of $599.01 per hammer!
Why, it’ll take just one trip to the tool store and they’re
quite well off. Poverty’s gone.

The beauty of this plan is that it won’t cost us taxpayers a
penny more to lift everyone out of poverty. We’re already
footing the bill for the $600 hammers and who knows what for
light bulbs.

(c)2002 by Mark Brennaman. All Rights Reserved.

Copyright The Quipping Queen 2005.

GOING BONKERS WITH BAUBLES, BERRIES & BELLS
–Or, Beware of BlackBerries, Cellphones and Laptops!–

If state-of-the-art “wireless technology” has given birth to such tawdry taskmasters as BlackBerries, cellphones and laptops, the Universe has also seen to it that such man-made devices would come packaged with an invisible, immutable, and infernal operating system deity named, “Calamity, Chaos & Confusion”.

It seems that happiness today has been reduced to acquiring newfangled gadgets, gizmos or gigagobblers that do absolutely everything but clean the kitchen sink.

Speaking of scruffy sculleries, your best bet would be to a visit your local “Tabernacle of Tetrachloride” where you can request a private audience with the “Wizard of Washbasins”. Failing that, consult the “Diva of Drudgery”* (who usually has all the quick and dirty answers to the western world’s most innocuous conundrums!)

Sadly, my days as a professional cherry-picker in Peach Bottom, Virginia are over …which brings me in a round about way to my favorite comfort food …”passion fruit”. Besides consuming far too many succulent seeds and passion pits for my own good, I also enjoy the occasional shopping-spree for trendy “fruit of the loom” drawers in the “Big Apple”. However, that doesn’t leave me much spare time to pursue pleasure unless you include such delightful diversions as a fruitless game of tiddlywinks or a toe-wrestling tournament in the “Old Country”.

To those byte-inclined “Bluetooth” folk who can’t live without their “BlackBerries”, I say get a life! These gizmos do not impress me in the least. For one thing these “robust” packages of tutti-fruit technology are worth a king’s ransom. And for another, hanging them on your lapel makes you look like a dork, or worse yet a loon. More to the point, unless you enjoy low-impact digital workouts with your thumb and index finger…take my humble advice, be a dweeb and forget about them!

Celluar telephones, the smallest of these dastardly digital devices, are a melodious menace to mankind. Besides making their owners look divinely self-important in a world of wannabes and winners, they also lurk surruptitiously about in the bottom of pockets, packsacks, and purses offering melodrama at its best for bystanders. And, as my dear Mum used to say, “anything that vibrates, sings, and talks back when you least expect it should be potty-trained”.

So, to avoid being zapped by alien airwaves, I recommend using “Semaphore”. This low-tech communication method is a lot cheaper and more fun than a bag of juicy-fruit bubble-gum. After all, how many people do you know who carry around flags all day long, flap their arms, and look a tad miffed when cab-drivers interrupt their train of thought and terse text messages?

As for “laptops”, they seem to languish about every prominent place under the sun. Have you ever noticed how they invite unwanted attention from sticky-fingered sorts who can’t wait to abscond with them when you’re responding to the call of nature? Then of course there are curmudgeons like me who think it’s a waste of time to invent something that helps nincompoops organize their recipes, play solitaire, or set a trap for a wireless mouse.

Being from the “old school”, I was always taught that children should be seen and not heard. Now if only that credo would apply to all these modern communication tools, the world would be an infinitely quieter place.

Just imagine a world without wireless windbags, wonky windows, or wicked weirdoes fingering the fruit …where we would all be free to follow our bliss …be it picking four-leaf clovers, drawing dorky droodles, coloring outside the lines, or maybe even tickling someone pink for a change!

About the Author

Theolonius McTavish is an analogue aardvark, amateur toe wrestler and frequent flying carpet cardholder not to mention an avid bystander at The Court of the Quipping Queen www.quippingqueen.blogspot.com

The Trust Issue in Marketing
by Darrin F. Coe, MA
copyright 2004

One of the prime motivating factors in the purchase decision making process is “trust”. A consumer will at some point for however long or short of a time, ask the question, “Can I trust this company/person/product?”

In today’s ever-changing world of marketing, electronic media, email, and advertising innovations and intrusions, companies, and businesses are marketing to an ever increasingly suspicious consumer, who is conflicted between their desire not to be “sold” to and their desire to consume. They are looking for ways to establish believability, credibility, and trust.

According to a paper by the Peppers and Rogers Group (2004), 36% of major U.S. corporations view privacy as an important part of the company’s brand image.

It is my belief based on consumer thinking that one way to develop a competitive edge in the marketing world is to place greater emphasis on tying privacy policy to brand. This strategy places a direct link between trust and purchase while developing the beginnings of long-term relationship.

I suggest highlighting your privacy policy in all your marketing in a way that makes privacy, trust, and your brand synonymous. Let the consumer know that here is a business that will respect your privacy. Let them know that your communication with them will be relevant to their consumer needs. And you can let them know that information they share with your business will be used to better meet their needs and will not, knowingly be used against them, sold, or given to third parties.

It might even be smart to develop a short marketing campaign that focuses on your commitment to your customer’s privacy, instead of simply stating that you have a privacy policy or stating your policy in unreadable font at the bottom of your literature.

About 50 % of consumers today have little more knowledge than brand or product recognition and have little desire to acquire extra information about a brand or product, so it behooves the marketing community to link recognition of their brand to trust, safety, and advocacy. Instead of selling to consumers, target your marketing to help them believe that you are making them safer and more secure by purchasing your brand and then back it up!

Darrin F. Coe, MA is a mental health professional, a weekly columnist, and the author of “micro loans: finance your dreams available at http://dcoe1.tripod.com/microfinance. Contact him at coe@ris.net or http://dcoe1.tripod.com

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Darrin Coe is a mental health professional, weekly columnist, and author of “micro loans: finance your dreams” available at http://dcoe1.tripod.com/microfinance contact him at coe@ris.net or http://dcoe1.tripod.com

Last week, I came across a voice chat room, which was full of impressive nicknames. From the beginning, I started to notice an Asian female because of her appealing voice and her interesting way of telling love stories. “It must be a very cute girl”, I thought.

She was a talent storyteller. I kept wondering how she could master almost everything about our male world as if she was a writer of Askmen.com, a men’s online magazine offering advices on dating, secrets of love, relationships and health. Dating tips and sex tips are perfectly transferred to her buddies.

After few minutes of listening to her lessons, I decided to chat with her individually. She was not as shy like a traditional Chinese as I supposed. She said that she lived in Boston and this prompted me to propose a date with her. However, before that, I asked her permission to see her face through the web cam. Black hair, big eyes, and a voluptuous body were what I imagined about her appearance at that moment.

“Why d’ya like to see my web cam?” she asked.
“’Cause I like to behold a star shining in the sky”
“But I am not so attractive as you are thinking of”, she laughed.
“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and I always believe in my senses which inform me that I’m talking with a beautiful lady”, once again I flirt with her, forgetting that she had just taught others some tips about dating.
“You’d better keep that good image in your mind”, answered she.

Finally, my endless wing words affected her and at the other end of the line, she laughed, approving to show me up. I was too eager to see an expected face.

My eyes were widely open. I could not believe in what I was watching. There was a smiling male face in the webcam. Beyond of my imagination, “she” was a very guy. Though shocked, I tried to think that she was joking. I wondered how a guy could talk in such a sweet voice. Being straight, he told me the truth. That was, he was using a software called Voice changer to disguise his voice.

Before we stopped, he did not forget to remind me not to tell others in the chat room about his identity.