I don’t have more than one lifetime. And my once-in-a-lifetime opportunity came a while back. I’m a little flustered because a new once-in-a-lifetime opportunity lands in my inbox nearly every day.
Each smacks of exaggeration.
I was sitting in a coffee shop in 2004, minding my own business, when an angel floated past. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. So gorgeous. So out of my league. There was only one thing to do: Invite this stranger to join me for coffee.
That’s a once-in-a-lifetime risk. “Risk” is the dark side of “Opportunity”.
In this case, the risk of refusal was so high, I expected it. My ego was not at stake. The only problem I might face, after selling the concept of “coffee”, was how on hell I would “deliver”. I was confident she would not reply to my request. So I could worry about fulfilment later.
How could I appear appealing, good-looking, reliable, and rich enough, to be worth meeting? (Umhlanga Rocks was like that back then.)
This is the kind of problem you bump into as a youngster when you have the courage of a lion and the tenacity of a honey badger. I was in my 40s, in the throes of a relationship catastrophe. The object of my instant-worship was much younger.
You create your own once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
When you receive such an offer, it is from someone who will offer this opportunity to you once in their lifetime. (Or at least once this week.) As they will to everyone else reading their emails.
They have no idea who you are, no understanding of the complexity of your life. They could not care less about your passions, your joys, your frustrations. You should borrow money because this opportunity will never come back.
They practise every hook in the book to persuade you to muster a few dollars. Your money helps them relieve their itch to buy a new Bugatti La Voiture Noire.
Giving somebody money – no matter why – is unlikely to be something you do just once in your lifetime. It’s certainly likely to be something you do only once to this person.
This opportunity they offer might not be entirely in the league they profess it to be. Chances are you will be disappointed at missing their promised nirvana. People who make this kind of promise are not often as fast to refund your investment.
I took up another once-in the-a-lifetime offer five weeks ago. The three-hour sales pitch was exceptional. Much better than the product, it turns out.
Hint to self. Always sleep on every once-in-lifetime opportunity. Morning always brings clarity.
I asked for a refund a few weeks later. ClickBank referred it to the seller. He pointed out his offer of a refund could only be invoked after 12 months. To qualify, I must keep SARS-quality records of each minute I invest in making his ideas work. I have doubts about the process. I have no doubt I will not buy from him or ClickBank again.
And the one year warranty isn’t quite as honest as it might seem. There are no guidelines on what “reasonable efforts” might be. Or how often Facebook must close my business account. (He highlights this as a common challenge his students face). Not a single email after the first one pointing me at the course.
I suspect my once-in-a-lifetime relationship with the supplier won’t turn out as well as 2004. The coffee led to marriage to the radiant woman who accepted my offer and subsequently delivered my daughter. (Not on the same day, you understand.)
Now that I think about it, she’s cost me a whole lot more, each day, than the entire course cost. It’s been a pleasure to invest every penny.