“Who goes there. Copa Cabana town, do you want my sister? A short man with an eagle- like nose, appears a few meters ahead of me, shouting out to me with his husky voice. Being in no rush, I reduce my pace just so the kombi (commuter omnibus) by the bus stop can go on ahead without me. However, kombi conductors being who they are, the man runs to me and calls the driver to come get me. My attempt to resist his call, had once again, proven futile.
Usually, as you board the bus, Zim dancehall music welcomes you aboard. At the moment, the genre stands as the public transport system’s anthem. However, to my surprise, there was no loud music. No arguing between the conductor and one of the passengers. Just, silence. Well not until one particular man joined us halfway through the ride to town.
He was tall, bony and a bit scruffy. He wore an overall sweater and his jeans hang loosely on him. Judging by the greyness of his hair, I assumed he was in his late forties. I was seated at the back seat of the kombi and because the conductor did not allow passengers to just seat anywhere without filling in the back seat, he came and sat next to me. Like any other passenger in the kombi I kept to my phone and enjoyed the unusual silence that was in this kombi.
The silence was short lived, well only mine to be specific. What started as a whisper,” I teach piano lessons,” escalated to become one of the most impressive marketing exercises I had ever seen.
Though he looked strange and one might argue fishy than strange, he got onto the kombi with a mission. That is to get his business going. He started talking about his teaching experiences and he was loud. I could tell he was very passionate about his work, because as he spoke, tiny droplets of saliva rained on me and everyone else who surrounded him. He energetically spoke, putting emphasis on how he had managed to help young pianists penetrate the international platform. He reached into his pocket, and because the four of us were neatly packed in the backseat, he had to Stand up whilst the kombi was moving just so he could reach his phone. Just so he could prove his how qualified he was he started playing a video, in which an eight- year old girl was playing the piano, meticulously.
It was so satisfying watching her play. The rest of the kombi paid attention as he explained how each finger and memory worked hand in hand to produce a lovely piece like the one we had just seen. A little bit of doubt loomed in the air. We had questions, why was he dressed like that. Surely he ought to have business cards on him. Why was he exposing himself to people who knew nothing about him or he knew nothing about? If successful, where was his big fancy car?
As unconvincing his appearance was, he managed to convince us all that anyone with fingers could learn and play the piano. The driver was the first one to shout for his number. Mothers who wanted their daughters to be just like the eight- year old in the video called out for it.
I could not believe he had managed to pitch and sell himself in less than an hour to unknown persons and actually get a warm reception.
It got me thinking of many more kombi rides he was going to take that day and how many more passengers he got to on a daily business. If a piano teacher could do this daily, maybe a vendor could adopt the same strategy and sell their products whilst on their way to town for business.
Though talking out loud and sharing information about himself to strangers made him seem weird, to him we were dollar signs hanging in front of him. Whilst we saw homeless and uneducated, he saw a future and wealth. Never judge a book by its cover, well we didn’t have to think about his clothing style for us to even think about working with him. His words were enough to persuade us to work with him.
Maybe, if we were all more confident to share our businesses in kombis, our customer base would potentially increase. Just a thought.