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If You’re Not Doing This, You’re Leaving Money On The Table

In: Online Marketing

Editor's Note: Please do not throw eggs at my house for referencing so many vulgarities. I am allergic.

So, I'm in JFK airport, having a massage before my 11 hour flight back to Chile.

If you're sitting there judging me for getting a massage in an airport, first of all, you can go fuck yourself. (Love you!) Second of all, you should know that airport massages are just as good as fancy schmancy spa massages–especially when performed by an Asian woman named Iris who has hands like bull and who douses you in rose water beforehand.

By the way, do you get offended when I tell you to go fuck yourself? Because I don't mean it in a bad way. I mean it in a very endearing New Yorker kind of way. Kind of like Carrie from King of Queens, except not, because I'm Ashley from Scranton, Pennsylvania.

I figure it's better than telling you to go fuck your mother. I never understood where the term “motherfucker” came from, anyway. I mean, who's out there doing that these days? Is this even a conceivable insult? Is it really offensive if it isn't something that someone would actually do, anyway? It's kind of like calling someone an alien licker.

Now there's a real zinger!

I could care less if someone called me an alien licker, because I know I'm not an alien licker. Not yet, anyway.

So what I wanna know is…what's the deal? I mean, we shouldn't really be using this term “motherfucker” in the first place, but, doesn't someone kind of have to be fucking heaps of moms in order to take offense to that?

Just my own two cents.

Aren't you glad you read this blog?

I'm certain this post definitely got blocked from your office.


Iris is giving me a “stress and tension massage” as people are yelling “Fuhgeddaboutit” while zooming by with their carry-ons. For the record, a “stress and tension massage” basically means that she latches onto my shoulder muscles as hard as she possibly can, digs in with her thumbs, and then squeezes with all her little Asian might until her face turns purple.

Totally loved it.

Me, that is.

Not Iris.

I'm sure that chick's in line for one hell of a case of carpel tunnel any minute now.


During my beating massage, I'm all, “Oh Iris, this is great!” and she's all, “I'm so glad you're enjoying it!” and I'm all, “I definitely am! and she's all, “Whoo hoo!” and I'm all, “So you been surfing lately?” and she's all, “Huh?” and I'm all, “Nevermind,” and she's all, “Huh?” and I'm all, “I was pretending you were Matthew McConaughey,” and she's all, “Ummm…” and I'm all, “Whatever, Iris,” and she's all, “Weird ass Americans,” and I'm all, “Bitch you are not as good at karate as you think you are.” Which, had I said it, would have automatically deemed me winner of this battle. Except I didn't say that because none of this conversation actually took place. But it totally did in my mind, as you can see.

God my mind was an asshole today.

You can only imagine what it's like to date me.


So once Iris wraps up, I'm all, “Ooooohhhhhh,” and she's all, “I know, right?” and I'm all, “Ahhhhhhhh” and she's all, “How 'bout a foot massage?”

And that, right there, is the entire point of this whole story.

The moment when Iris offers me a foot massage.

Because, here's the thing.

In my moment of bliss, when Iris offers to work her bull hand magic down on my moose-like feet, my automatic response, without even thinking was, “YES!” Very much Ă  la Herbal Essence commercial.

In that moment there were no other considerations. All I knew was that I wanted Iris to do my feet, too. And, I mean, since she was offering…

As a result, I ended up paying $109 for a massage that was suppose to cost me $50.


Had you told me prior to walking into the airport massage parlor (parlor just sounds icky, doesn't it?) that I'd be spending $109 plus tip, I would have kept walking straight to the bar. My shoulder pains were nothing a $10 martini couldn't fix.


Because I thought I was only dropping $50 plus tip, I didn't think twice. My shoulders ached. I slept funny. I had a kink in my neck. And I wanted a massage before my 11 hour peanut-flavored flight from hell.


Once Iris offered me an additional massage, in the throes of my excitement, I instantly said yes–without thinking twice. It was a no-brainer: I was already in the chair, and I wanted whatever Iris was offering. (Don't even think about going there.)

You know what that's called, darling?

That's a little something called ONLY THE BEST UPSELL EVER.

And it's time that you took a cue from my girl Iris, and started incorporating your own upsets into your own business model.

An upsell is just what it sounds like–you're selling your customer UP a notch, by offering them added value at a price they can't refuse.

And that translates into you being a hero, because not only are you solving your customer's problems for them, but you're doing them a favor by offering it to them at a discounted price, or in some other fashion that dramatically increases their satisfaction. They'll be shaking their booty to the tune of your biz before you know it.

Oftentimes, business owners are scared to ask for any sale period, let alone an ADDITIONAL sale on top of one they're hoping and praying is going to go through.

But you remember that phrase, “Strike while the iron is hot?”

Yeah, that one.

Couldn't be more true. Especially when it comes to selling.

Couple of reasons:

1. If your customer is buying your product or service, they're presently in the “throes of excitement,” just like I was when Iris was going all Donkey Kong on my shoulders. They're excited to be buying from you. Realize the power that comes with that.

2. If you make them an exclusive offer that they can't find anywhere else, right then and there, while in the throes of excitement, that they'll never, ever be able to take advantage of ever again, so long as you, I or the Olsen twins shall live, most of the time…THEY'RE GONNA TAKE IT. Why? Because it's a no-brainer. It's too good of a deal to pass up. And people hate missing out. If you remember nothing else, remember that. Make it a no-brainer and you will win ze game of business. That doesn't mean to throw in a free pack of condoms with every order (quit thinking so dirty all the time!); it means to make an offer that's red hot, which means it will be, a) Complementary, and b) Ideally something they will need in order to really kick ass with the first thing you sold them. Which are pretty much both the same thing anyway, but not really.

Hint: If you don't have anything complementary that will supplement your service or product in a way that fits like the most worn-in baseball glove you've ever laid eyes on, then, I've got a genius idea for you: GO MAKE SOMETHING. You're letting money slip right in between your fingers, and frankly, it really sucks when that happens. Be smart. Work smart. Sell smart. But don't eat Smarties. Those are gross.

3. People are lazy. They've already got their credit cards out. They might as well pick it up now, instead of later. Sounds simplistic. And it is.

So why aren't you making any offers?


I just had to get this post out of my system, because I want you to kick ass in 2012, and upsells are something you need to know about. And not only do you need to know about them, but you need to know how to implement them. So maybe next post I'll talk a little bit more about that, and show you the best way to go about it, without coming off like a huge dork. Or, worse, a salesy asshole. Because that isn't on anyone's agenda. It's about finding intelligent ways to best help your customers while simultaneously thriving with your business. This is all about a win win–the whole biz game that we're in. And upsells are just one piece of the greater pie, which, in my world, would totally be pumpkin. And I'm not just saying that because it's Halloween. We don't even celebrate Halloween in Chile.

Wait, that's a Thanksigiving thing, isn't it? What am I talking about..Halloween? I guess I got confused with Jack-o-lanterns. I knew pumpkins were involved somehow. Well, whatever. There's no Thanksgiving in Chile, either.

Man. I'm really going to have to start carefully considering my place of residence, aren't I? You don't mess with pumpkin pie, man.

Anyway. You should definitely take advice on selling from a girl who doesn't know the difference between Halloween and Thanksgiving. Holidays aside, this girl is makin' moves. And not just on the cute Chilean who I bled all over.

Moves to the tune of $97,000 in 2011. Remember that little program? Oh yeah, baby. Two months to go. We're on track. You ready to see us really crank it?

It's go time, baby.

Welcome to the end of 2011.

Just wait 'til you see what we've got in store for 2012.

Hopefully by then, no one will be threatening to perform inappropriate sexual acts on anyone's mother, you'll be right there next to me, kicking it up a notch with your business (cough upsell cough), and they'll finally start carrying Frank's Hot Sauce in Chile.

Can you believe I actually bought a whole new luggage set just so I could fit a few bottles of Frank's?

I mean, Iris was impressed.

But then again, she was probably just saying that so I didn't splice her open with my toenail.

Which would have been really, really awkward.

Then again…I'm pretty sure that's what this blog is secretly about. Not toenail splicing, but awkwardness. Sure, we talk business. But mostly, we just talk about the crazy shit that happens around here, while folding in business lessons.

I hope you're okay with that.

If not, you should probably just go fuck yourself.

I mean, you saw that one comin'…right?

The Middle Finger Project. Not Your Grandmother's Blog.

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I'm a Bad Influence on Women

Hey, I’m Ash! Twenty years ago I was a small town girl growing up in a trailer park in rural Pennsylvania. Fifteen years ago, I lost my family and everything I knew right as I became the first to graduate college. Fourteen years ago, I found myself leaving everything behind for a new life in the city where I could be “normal.” Ten years ago I realized normal was the most disappointing thing that ever happened to me. Nine years ago I quit my job in advertising and pursued my dreams as a creative writer. Eight years ago, I built a 6-figure business doing what I love using nothing more than the Internet and my voice. And now, today, I’m the founder of The Middle Finger Project, an irreverent media co. that helps other women find their voice and teaches them to use it to build whatever the f*ck they want to. With a book coming out with Penguin Random House in February 2020 (YASSS, WE’RE A PRODUCT IN TARGET!) I’m proud to be a bad influence on women and guide them into doing something disobediently brave with their life and their career.

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