On Being Remarkable
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Have you ever wanted to be so remarkable that people, when searching for someone with your particular expertise, will always think of you? (Like being the first Google search result, but in the person’s mind rather than on the net.)
Last night Mrs. MZM and I watched an old Sherlock Holmes movie (Dressed to Kill, 1946, starring Basil Rathbone as The Man). Three ordinary-looking music boxes were at the center of the plot; they were supposed to be picked up at an auction by the Crook and his beautiful Female Crook accomplice. Unfortunately the Crooks were late and the boxes were purchased separately by three other people. (Don’t you just hate it when that happens?)
Anyway, as the story progresses, the venerable Mr. Holmes (accompanied by the inevitably bumbling Dr. Watson) must track the boxes down before the Crooks do, while at the same time figure out what’s so special about them. It soon becomes apparent that each one contains part of a single message, and all three are needed to decipher it.
One of the boxes was picked up by the young lady proprietor of a gift shop. The Female Crook has already managed to acquire two of the three boxes (by murder, cheating and stealing, oh, my!), and this one contains the remaining piece of the puzzle. But when she arrives at the shop, she is told a gentleman had just purchased it.
A delicate inquiry as to who the gentleman was causes the proprietor to give her a card with the purchaser’s name on it. (Pregnant pause while the audience is left, momentarily, to wonder whose name is on the card - but we know, don’t we?)
What caught my attention about the scene, though, was the card itself. (Heaven knows it certainly wasn’t the *yawn* movie.) The card was plain, white, and had just two words on it: Sherlock Holmes. (Sound of short, dramatic organ riff climax.)
Now, think about that for a minute (no, silly, not my pathetic attempt to render the background music - think about the card). What exactly is supposed to go on a business card anyway? Name, address, contact information, perhaps a web site - all kinds of things find their way onto business cards these days. I wouldn’t be surprised if the danged things don’t start singing jingles before too long! In fact, I can hear it now:
(Sound of player piano with kazoo accompaniment)
Hello! My name is Bob! It may come as no surprise that I’m lookin’ for a job!
Your company and me- we’ll go together like a steak and corn on the cob! (Sound of piano being smashed by angry listeners)
Yikes! Can’t you just see millions of people going on a crusade to stamp these things out? Er, but I digress.
Anyway, as I said, here’s a guy whose card breaks every rule in the book! No address, no phone, just a name. So what could possibly make this card effective? Uh-huh, you know, don’t you?
Well, just the fact that literally everybody knew who he was (THE Sherlock Holmes, famous detective), where he lived (221-B Baker Street, of course - it’s in every single book and movie), and what he could do for you (solve mysteries, don’cha know). Those two words told the entire story.
He was so remarkable a what he did, there was no other identifier necessary!
So there’s the goal, folks. What can you do today that will make you that remarkable?
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5 responses so far
Markk.
(Sorry.)
I’m somewhat reluctant to mess with such a fine story, but that wasn’t a business card. It was a calling card. The sort of thing you were expected to hand the butler before he announced you to the master in the study (with a candlestick).
Okay. I guess I wasn’t that reluctant.
What can I do today, in my relative obscurity, to get to Holmesian status? Perhaps I should ask Liz Strauss for help!
Cheers,
Mike
Markk? Can you hear me now?
Mike, you’re right, but I think the point is still made.
I can leave comments on blog posts, even if I have nothing particularly interesting to say
Hey, Benjamin - no problem, I’ve had days like that. Besides, the only bad comment is the one not made…