Boston Business Journal: No Tips

Shop Girl by Kitty Kaufman, photos by Julie Moffatt, Ellen Kaufman

I used to be a staff writer at a weekly publication. The editor made assignments with reasonable deadlines and rarely if ever changed your copy. Once, when a stylist wanted me to say he had the "best prices on Newbury Street" and I wouldn't, the letter I wrote back to him at the editor's request took longer to write than the feature. As turn-downs go, it worked and the stylist kept his ad in, which was the whole point.

After several years the editor had an idea: instead of writing about advertisers, I could do a column on how to run a business. Of course I was flattered. It sounded like consulting on the fly but still. I told myself this was good for them and me. They wanted a list of topics and this began keeping me up because I didn't have any tips. Now I would tell anyone in a startup that the first two people you want to sign with are: one, an accountant and two, a lawyer, but I didn't see where that was going to turn into a story although you would be surprised how many business people never think about those professionals at all.

I asked the editor if he had any ideas. No, he didn't and then he said, "You're the writer." It's possible I might have said I thought tips were trite but maybe not. I made a list of real-life clients.

Collaborative problem solving with the guy who knows everything

How to make mistakes

How to orchestrate an office move

How to start a new business

What did you expect?

Keeping cool: firing, hiring, evaluating, severing

Call me (even when you don't want to)

Don't forget to write (answering when you don't want to)

Secrets of life (completely arrogant but good for weeks)

I mean, really, trying to deal with a know-it-all? Secrets of life, who was I kidding? I sent "Call Me" which in a nice way says call people back even when you don't want to. There was no response, which in light of the subject was curious not in a good way. They asked for another column and I sent "Starting Over" about how December resolutions end up toast by the middle of January.

Writers know priorities change. I had to ask when they were starting even though I knew it would be painful. Our conversation wound around as I imagined, uncomfortably, and went something like, "Well, what you wrote is fine but it isn't tips." I said, "I told you, I don't do tips." And that, as they say, was that.

Everyone does it. Sunday Parade magazine is full of tips and gossip. Frankly if I never get another tip about anything, except the market, that's soon enough and right now I don't want to hear anything about that either. But feel free to send along any gossip.

Speaking of no tips, I got what I thought was an interesting call last week. These calls never come when you are in the office at your desk. I was driving and my cell phone was in a pocket so it took quite a few rings before I could answer. The caller told me her name and the business weekly she writes for, not the same one of course, and said she was doing a prescriptive article. And I said, "What?" "Prescriptive." "What?" "Prescriptive, you know, things that businesses can do that will help them get by in hard times." Later I told two friends about it and they both said, "What's prescriptive?" I guess that's what tips are called now.

gus

I started thinking out loud and it got quiet on her end and I realized she was taking it all down. I stopped and asked her what the focus of the story would be. She said she didn't know yet. So I said, "May I call you back?" She said that would be fine and when would it be? How about an hour? I offered to call her but she said definitively, twice, "I will call you back in one hour, at 4 pm." I raced back to the office and made enough notes to rule out more off-the-cuff remarks.

I was ready early. New York minutes slipped by. What exactly is the five-second rule when you're waiting? Is it 10 minutes or 20? Like waiting for a guy to call you after a date; how do you know if he's playing by three- or seven-day rules?

canton moon

I ended up calling her back at what turned out to be a general number fielded by voice mail, of course, and left a message. I waited. Then I looked up the paper's number and spoke to a receptionist who for some reason said I had to speak to her supervisor, the office manager, and to wait a moment and she would let me talk to her. The office manager did not answer, of course, and when her voice mail came on I left a message. It was now 60 minutes after 4 pm.

No, nobody ever called back and too bad no one is looking for tips or prescriptives today. This is probably as good a time as any, I'm guessing, to get started either on secrets of life or, what did you expect?

© October 13, 2008

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