Grow.

Today's Marketing Cookie is a request, not a prediction. If the cookie proclaimed that you will BE rich, I would be congratulating you. However, the cookie says, "GROW rich," and that is clearly an action, not a description. I would like to focus on the word "grow."

As marketers, we must plant seeds and nurture our prospects until a relationship can grow to the point when they are ready to buy. Growing leads is an activity, not a promise. Merely buying advertising, sending direct mail, and employing other marketing tactics does not guarantee the results you need. Nurturing leads is like planting a garden: you have to understand the climate, avoid hazards, and be aware of your competitors. 

Allow me to tell you what I've learned about gardening.

We were living in Kentucky at the time, and unlike the climate I was used to in New England, the flowers and trees are lush, and the grass is green as early as March. 

Although my neighbors told me it's much too early to start planting a garden. I just couldn't wait. I tilled the ground, bought a bunch of seeds, and planted the most ambitious garden ever! 

There must be something powerful in that Kentucky soil because my veggies started growing rapidly. The sprouts popped up and quickly turned into beautiful plants. One morning, as I admired my garden from the kitchen window, I saw a fat bunny eating my young lettuce. I opened the window and yelled, "Hey, you fat bunny, get out of my garden!" The bunny paused, looked at me for about two seconds, and kept on eating. So, I ran out in my pajamas to chase him off, but he soon returned.

Driven by frustration, I sped to the hardware store, bought some chicken wire and posts, and spent the day building a fence that would surely keep that fat bunny out of my garden. Meanwhile, whatever the bunny hadn't eaten was growing fast. Still, none of my neighbors had started their gardens yet. It didn't matter—I would be enjoying fresh tomatoes on my porch months before everyone else.

The next morning, the bunny had somehow gotten under the fence and was munching on my bean plants. Not my beans! I stormed out, but it had rained overnight, and I slipped on the wet grass, falling on my bum. The bunny stopped chewing, and I swear he chuckled at me. Furious, I threw a brick at him, but he casually stepped aside, letting the brick flatten one of my carrot plants.

Each time I patched the fence, the bunny found another way in. I was practically losing my voice from yelling at him each morning. Eventually, almost all my plants were eaten, and I was down to my last precious head of lettuce. Determined to protect it, I bought a high-powered, gas-propelled pellet gun.

Yes, I planned to shoot the fat bunny.

I kept careful watch. When he finally reappeared, I snuck out and took aim. Just as I pulled the trigger, the gas cartridge exploded, the barrel popped off, and a dozen little pellets scattered everywhere. The bunny finished my last leaf of lettuce, gave me a knowing smile, and waddled away.

Then it started to rain. The rain came down non-stop for almost three weeks, completely flooding my garden. When the rain finally stopped, the sun came out, as did my neighbors, to plant their perfect gardens. 

Luckily, I am much better at growing leads than vegetables.