Back in 2003, there was this annoying chick who always stood in the front of my hip hop class at Crunch.
To be clear, by “my hip hop class” I mean one that I went to every week, not one that I taught…or owned.
And by “annoying chick” I mean she had an impossibly great body and was a way better dancer than I was.
I couldn’t say anything.
I couldn’t say, “She’s a natural dancer but she can’t pick up choreography like I do” because she picked it up awesomely.
I couldn’t say, “Eh, she’s too skinny” because she was perfectly curvy. Like the Fitness magazine model who’s always featured sculpting her glutes using nothing but a beach ball.
I couldn’t even say “She’s so annoying.”
Who was I kidding?
She had what you call great energy. Everyone in the class liked her and talked to her, which is more than you could say for me. (I was the silent, sweaty type.)
It just bothered me how sharp and clean her moves were and how much fun she was always having. The teacher announced a new nighttime striptease class, and she said, “Can we make it really fun? Like, dress up?”
C’mon. Let’s stick with what works: a ratty t-shirt and sweaty yoga pants.
OK. So she wasn’t so bad.
One day, I figured, if you can’t beat ’em…. So I started talking to her.
I was disappointed to find her very likable.
She lived and bartended in my neighborhood. I thought, generously, “I’m glad for her that she looks like that, since she relies on tips for a living.”
I wanted to help. I hooked her up with a second bartending gig at the hot restaurant where my now-husband was a GM.
She was hungry.
Not hungry for spaghetti, like me, though of course she could eat anything she wanted and still look like that. I mean “hungry.” You know, that elusive genetic thing that makes you a “go-getter.”
On top of two bartending jobs, she was also life coaching. Whatever that meant.
And on top of that, she started teaching hip hop at Crunch. Plus, making videos. (Hadn’t she just started taking classes?)
Her class was really good — especially that routine to Ciara’s “My Goodies” — and I became a regular. In the front row.
We started walking home together.
Me, drenched with sweat; her, adorably-but-barely damp. (Never saw so many heads turn.)
We’d talk about The Apprentice, our respective boyfriends, our careers…
The book she was writing…the coaching clientele she was building…
“What’s with the pad?”
I asked about the yellow pad she always passed around for contact info at the end of class. What was she going to do with a handful of emails?
She said she was building a list for her newsletter.
A newsletter! How cute.
Oh, you know. A multi-million-dollar empire.
It’s called B-School.
In case you haven’t heard of it, B-School is an 8-week, downloadable course. It teaches non-douchey, non-cheesy marketing strategies to new or long-time business owners who want to make more impact and more money online.
And in case you haven’t figured it out, the annoying chick who turned out not to be annoying who became my friend is Marie Forleo.
The embarrassing part of the story is how I underestimated her. But that’s what happens when you hate on people just for having flat abs, long luxurious hair, and great rhythm.
Oh, and that pad?
The cute little list Marie was building grew into a list of hundreds of thousands of subscribers and fans. And, thousands of B-Schoolers.
B-School is where Marie shows you the exact process she used to go from less than nothing (she’ll tell you herself, those bartending tips were going towards a hefty credit card debt)…
…To a business that makes a shit-ton of money, fulfills her dreams of making a shit-ton of difference in the world, and helps a shit-ton of people do the same.
Marie and B-School changed my life and business.
Oh gross, what a cliche. So many people say that.
But it’s true. I was in a rut, doing the same job year after year and making the same birthday wish every time I blew out the candles: “More money. Something more creative. Oh shit, they’re melting into the cake.”
Marie’s the one who told me I should have a blog. And a thing called an “opt-in” on my website, with something called an “auto-responder,” to build my own list.
This was pre-B-School, so she showed me personally how to do this.
In pen, on a yellow pad.
With those tips, plus the ones I use from B-School — especially the Ideal Customer Avatar exercise you do in the first week of B-School — I’ve developed a creative outlet with a loyal, responsive audience (my blog) and a whole new side of my business (helping private clients with their copy).
I’ve also multiplied my income. A few times over.
Is B-School 2018 for you?
- If you’re thinking about making some nice family-vacation cash by selling necklaces on Etsy…
- If you’ve fantasized about saying adios to your full-time job and doing something you love from home…
- If you dream of turning your pet cause into an enormous movement (hee hee, I mean a revolution, not a BM)
- If you’re a trained nutritionist but also a talented graphic designer but also a great listener but haven’t quite made a go of any one of those things…
- If you’re serious about doing something new or something bigger…
…and doing it this year…
I can’t recommend it enough.
Like Christmas, B-School only comes once a year. Sign up below and I’ll let you know as soon as the hoopla starts up, so you can get in on it and my free bonus.
The moral of this story: Don’t underestimate anyone with moves like Beyonce and a yellow pad.
Ever hated on someone just because?
Ever underestimated someone and then had to eat your own face over how successful they became?
Have a question about B-School?
Tell or ask me in the comments. And if you like this, please tweet or share on FB, with that floating doohickey to the left.