“Sammy, do you trust me?” Andy asked.
“Yes I do, daddy,” he replied.
“And do you trust mummy?” he enquired further.
“No,” Sammy answered without hesitation.

Seeing my sunken face and tears rolling down my cheeks, Andy tried to save the situation: “Sammy, what is trust?”, he asked. 
To which my darling son replied with the conviction of a senior government politician: “Trust is EVERYTHING!” 

And do you know what? He is right.

When I lived in London I used to have my shoes and bags repaired by a cobler at the end of the leafy Barnes village. His name was John. I could have gone to the Hammersmith station (five minutes away from work) and have my shoes mended during my lunch break, probably cheaper too. Instead, every time my trasured shoes needed attention, I walked for 45 minutes each way along the wonderful river Thames to see John and then did the same again a week later to pick them up. I trusted John completely. I believed that he loved my shoes as much, if not more as me. He cared. And the shoes and me loved him back for it.  

So what is my point?

If your customers trust that you will do a better job than anybody else out there, you will get the job. Hopefully again and again.

By the way, it turns out that my son doesn't trust me because I don't have stubble. There you go. Not much I can do, I suppose. 

Until later...

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