I collect quotable quotes from my clients and from people who have seen my shows. Marketers call these glowing statements endorsements or testimonials
Any marketing guru and expert-wannabe will tell you testimonials can help sell your act. Gather a dozen or so of them, put them on your website, sales letters, fliers and other marketing collaterals, and you will have powerful tools that can soften client resistance to your sales pitch.
I think I’m a sucker for marketing tools and ploys. That must explain why I love collecting hosannas from my clients and people who have watched my shows.
As a potent sales tool, a testimonial does come in handy. I have prospects telling me over the phone that they would like to hire my show, because they have read on my website the testimonials of satisfied clients. They are sold to my show not because of my offers, program content, packages and pricing scheme, but because of the testimonials of satisfied customers.
While I love all the glowing statements from my clients, some testimonials carry more “umph” than others. Selecting the ones that will sell my program better can be a heart-wrenching process.
However, in over several years of performing, I have one favorite testimonial. It’s a no-brainer to put on my marketing material. Pithy and sweet, the statement packs a wallop. It’s top of my mind always.
I got the glowing expression from two little girls so long ago I’ve forgotten exactly when. Though a long time have passed since they uttered it (the girls may be married by now), the statement is still fresh on my mind.
I was performing two shows for a Fourth of July picnic organized by the American Association of the Philippines (AAP). The organizers assigned me a room equipped with a pull-over divider that served as my curtain, behind which I set up my stuff.
I was to perform two 45-minute shows with a 30-minute interval between shows to give time for the next batch of spectators to file into the room.
In the first show, I noticed these two girls in the front row who were lustily shouting and laughing. They also wanted to help in every trick.
After the show, I went behind the divider, reset my props and then went out to the audience area to sit down and kill the time for the next show.
The chairs were not completely vacated. The two girls in the front row were still there, conversing animatedly with each other. All the other kids had gone to the picnic ground to participate in the other activities of the day. But these two girls were left behind, contented with talking to each other.
I approached them and told them the show is over. I suggested that the go outside, join the rest of the kids on the picnic ground and enjoy the other attractions.
They said, “No, we’re staying. We like the show so much we want to see it again—now!”
I was taken aback. What brilliant retort could I say?
In the second show, the girls were still in the front row, screaming, laughing and clapping as lustily as they did in the first show.
And to think I did exactly the same routines I did in the first show. It was like deja vu.