The girls were dozing - as is their wont - in their respective cat perches in front of the huge sliding glass door that leads to my woods, err, back yard.
Molly suddenly leapt three feet in the air (okay, maybe one) and in one bound was peering in the corner opposite from Sir Lizard's hide out.
Oh boy.
Did I mention that this is a dusty, scary corner that I've been meaning to clean out?
And that this corner = direct access to my book cases and futon, and that entire wall leads to my bedroom?
(shudder)
I had already decided I'd create an enticing road straight to an open back door for the lizard ... if I could ever find him. Which would include locking the girls up. Which they hated.
That little lizard (oh right, big fat lizard) was nothing but tenacious in his resistance to depart chez phydeaux. I had a broom in one hand, big oven mitt on the other, and kitchen tongs at the ready. After an hour of very nearly luring him to the back door ...
he ran back under the futon.
GAH!!!
Kind of like trying to force potential customers into real customers, right? Push, prod, cajol, gently poke. And they run as quickly as possible into a dark hidey hole safe from you. (and by you, I mean me)
So, instead of spending another few hours trying to force this guy out of my home, I cleaned my living room. I moved furniture (all but the futon). I swept and vacuumed and swept some more.
I moved cat trees and perches and beds and toys outside (remove scary sites and smells).
I move the 30 year old loveseat that I hate outside.
I blocked off access from the futon to the rest of the house.
And then wondered, "where's that danged lizard?" Couldn't find him.
I could hear my very unhappy Fiona though, so after leaving the back door open some more while cleaning the kitchen, closed the screen and let the girls out.
Who went ballistic, but eventually konked out on their perches in the sun.
Instead of continuing to kill myself and my back searching for a lizard, I used my time for other things. I made and ate a delicious and healthy dinner. And while doing so, noticed Fiona frantically trying to get into the stack of laundry on top of the futon.
(shudder)
Lock up girls. Open sliding door. Block off all access behind me. Starting folding laundry, one piece at a time (there was a LOT).
And still shrieked when he fell out of a towel (which is now being washed).
An hour later of gently peeling back the mattress to urge him toward the light outside, he disappeared again.
So I again went off to do better things. And after a bit came back to close the door a bit, only to see him madly back away from it.
DARN.
This time I was ready though, and with broom and mitt, herded him right to the door and
MAN
I've never seen a critter fly over a threshold and out into the light so fast.
(Did you hear my whoops and hollers of glee?)
We're all a bit like that lizard. A bit scared of what we don't know. Or that a huge critter with fangs will pounce upon us.
As a customer, we're like that lizard. Being forced kicking and screaming from a safety zones isn't a successful sales strategy. Becoming a customer has to be on our terms, perhaps with gentle influence. Removing scary things and obstacles from our becoming a customer is most helpful. Removing lots of extra steps helps too (how many things have you abandoned in your shopping cart after too many steps were required to finish the purchase?).
As someone who wants to sell something, you can wear yourself out PROMOTING ALL THE TIME. Twitter! Facebook! Forums! Whatever! Knocking yourself out to get sales ... and not stopping to ask "hmm, why am I not getting sales?"
Or you can set things up for your niche, go make/design things, find your happy place to do other things when what seems should work doesn't, and also work on improving your skills and strategy.
There is a VERY happy lizard somewhere out in my back woods, err, yard.
Two VERY unhappy kitties in my living room (who are now sleeping - cats have pretty short memories).
And a VERY happy Brenda, who out of this ordeal got a ridiculously clean living room floor, sofa and futon (with a much hated love sear OUTSIDE).
Go in peace, Sir Lizard.
Image: Tyrannosaurus rex shadow puppet, Owly Shadow Puppets
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