Targeting the Market

De-cluttering continues: the handsome piano I bought 18 years ago and which has been played just a few times - and only then by a visiting friend - can no longer justify its claim on floor-space, especially since I discovered via the internet that it may have significant value as a liquidated asset. I took a photo and sent it off to a dealer in excited anticipation and then I went down to the bin-room with a few of the smaller unloved items - and the household waste, which is evidently man's work.

On the street a car pulled up alongside me, its driver leaned out of the window and said "Scusa, parli Italiano?" Ever ready to help a stranger find his way I answered "Si, un po'," whereupon he reverted to English and told me a story about having been to a trade fair. Assuming he was lost I started to direct him to the airport. "No," he said "I have sat-nav. I just want to give you something." He pulled out a fancy presentation box containing a chunky wristwatch, sang its praises and explained that it was left over from the exhibition but that if he took it back to Italy he would have to pay duty on it: he would rather give it to me. Instinct told me not to trust his intentions so I declined the offer by explaining my de-cluttering crusade. He drove off shaking his head, but he is a poor salesman who does not see that the target market for blingy watches is probably not some grey-haired geezer emerging from a bin-room dressed in M&S jogging pants.

Later that day, while in town, I passed a man trying to sell something called "Bikishu". After a while I realised that he was most likely a recent immigrant who had joined the ranks of Big Issue magazine sellers strategically positioned outside the busy shops. I subsequently walked past six of them without witnessing a single sale, so it occurred to me that they also might benefit from my views on targeted sales techniques. Although there is undoubtedly plenty of foot-fall around their pitches, are they the right kind of feet? They should try their luck on the steps of the art gallery where feet may be fewer but belong to leisured, educated, liberal-minded arts patrons who might be more inclined - if only because of social conscience - to buy a magazine from a forlorn-looking refugee.

The business pages of the weekend papers revealed that even large, organised and established businesses must keep an eye on their targets. The new management at TGI Friday has recognised that its decline in customer numbers is due to most diners’ aversion to the rowdy party atmosphere it has encouraged over the years. They have now calmed things down and banned party balloons which, incidentally, is a good thing, since the earth is running out of irreplaceable helium stocks.

Another company which has run into a problem is Gillette whose sales are badly hit by the present fashion for beards and by the moustache-growing efforts of the Movember movement. There is talk of them diversifying into a chain of barber shops which offer a beard-trimming service, at least until the fashion recedes, whereupon they would flog it to a hedge fund. Meanwhile, if I were the owner of a long-established but languishing business in the moustachio wax sector, I would be offering myself up for sale in October.

But enough of big business: I put the papers to one side and went to check my email. The good news is that the piano dealer responded promptly to my enquiry; the bad news is that his offer is derisory. Apparently I must look elsewhere for my target market.