It was a dreary morning in the office of Froid Pedman, D.C. A good doctor with warm hands but cold feet. The waiting room, empty. The phone, silent.

This practice has symptoms of illness. Is there a cure?

 

The first symptom is silence. Dr. Pedman neglects to promote his practice in any way. Even though he owns the business, the thought of trying to make sales gives him the cold sweats. His comfort zone has shrunk until he’s nearly invisible. His feet are frozen in fear.

 

The second symptom is a failure to face reality. Instead of accepting responsibility for his lack of a simple, effective marketing plan, our doctor always blames someone or something else for his silent phone.

 

“It’s my Chiropractic Assistant,” he reasons. “It’s my town. It’s the economy. It’s the Euro. My mother forced me to eat my vegetables when I was five.”

 

Finally, the phone rings. The doctor is delighted. The office comes alive. “Hello, Pedman Chiropractic. How may I help you?”

 

“This is Mr. Porthos Marketeer of “Market à Trois Gazette.” You’ve heard of me, yes? Well do I have the marketing plan for you. Other chiropractors rave about it. We’ll swashbuckle your competition. All you need to do is slash out the other doctor’s name and number and replace it with your own. How simple is that?”

 

“You mean I just pay you and my phone will ring?”

 

“One plan for all and all for one price is our motto. How about it?”

 

“I’d like to think about it.”

 

“Really, you don’t have time to lose. And, if you get started today, you get a complimentary pair of fleece socks for your cold feet. Our gift to you.”

 

“Fleece, you say? Can I sign up over the phone?”

 

“Yes, then I’ll turn you over to my associate, Mr. Dark Canyon to get your ad details for the Gazette.”

 

An odd thing happens. The phone starts to ring. The practice is picking up. It’s almost as if the universe knows the doctor, staff, and clinic are excited, ready to serve. Patients start coming through the door again. To maintain the good fortune, the doctor wears his lucky socks every day.

 

But like a cruel joke, nothing comes from the advertising program. As the campaign enters its fourth costly week, potential patients cancel. Those who show up don’t follow through except to receive a discounted or free service. That costs the doctor even more money.

 

The doctor enters the throes of despair and the universe tunes into his inner funk. The phones fall silent. The spin cycle continues until everyone loses hope. Even worse, there are holes in Froid’s fleece socks. He’s been fleeced and forgotten.