Copywriting Tips

The Boiling Point: Why Your Business Isn’t About You

It’s not about you, love. This one thing is.

Sara Naderi
4 min readNov 26, 2020

I have this kettle.

That I abhor…

It looks cheap with its thin, cloudy aluminum. When a friend last visited, she searched high and low in the cupboards for a vessel to make tea, and when I pointed to the stove she bursts out:

“THAT’S your kettle!?”

I’m almost ashamed to show you this…

Yeah, kettle shame is real.

But, in all honesty, this monstrosity has crossed all lines of civility.

Our last kettle was a chic stainless steel, thick-handled, modern utensil, and quite frankly a pleasure to use.

But, I have kids. And for those of you not familiar with the kind, they ruin things…often. And after one too many falls on our tiled kitchen floors, well, yeah, we sent it packing to the garbage gods.

I put my husband in charge of getting a new one, and he ordered the most utilitarian, wallet-friendly kettle he could find. Because, well, kids.

Side note: I know talking about a tea kettle is probably akin to watching paint dry, but I swear I have a point, so hang tight.

It’s been several months with this thing now, and the more I see and think about it, the more anxious I get. The texture is that of a blackboard, scratch your fingernails along it, and it’s chills city. I mean it; even the thought of touching it gives me the heebie-jeebies.

The top is just a place holder, it doesn’t actually fit, and if I don’t hold it when pouring, I risk serious harm.

Not to harp, but the aluminum is so cool and uninviting, the complete opposite of its intended use. Yeah, it may produce a hot, warming, feel-good beverage, but its mere existence makes me feel like I’m imposing on it.

Don’t get me wrong; this kettle ticks all those boxes that it needs to do. Well, the one…

The worst part of it all is that I adore tea. I love going to specialty shops and picking out exotic blends that give way to the season. The ceremony of preparing it produces all those little brain molecules that make me happy. And the intoxicating smells, flavors, and that first sip after steeping is something I like to savor and cherish.

But, I’m so bogged down by how I feel about the kettle that, sadly, I don’t make nearly as much tea as I used to.

I finally broke down to my husband and confessed my hatred for the kettle.

Husband: “it’s cheap and does the job. I don’t see your point”

Me:

But I do have a point!

While my dear, dear husband is right, it absolutely does its functional job, it fails to hit me where it counts.

I consume less tea because I avoid this kettle within inches of my life. Ok, maybe not that dramatic, but my daily tea ratio is significantly down.

Why?

Because I’m not feeling it.

If it were some charming chrome metal accented kettle, with a pop of color, my experience boiling water would be more pleasant, I would look forward to it, my trips to the bathroom would see significant highs, because I’d be drinking like it’s going out of style.

I tell this story because your brand and your business work in the very same way.
Tea kettles all do the same freaking thing. They boil water; there’s not much else to them, so what they look like shouldn’t be important.

Well, if I did my job telling the story above — we know this to not be true.

If you want to sell yourself, your services, or a product, you need to remember that it’s not about you, it’s all about how you make your audience feel.

When someone opens up their wallet, or their time to you, it’s because you were able to crack their code.
Because at the end of the day, you could just be trying to sell hot water, but if your flimsy aluminum messaging isn’t connecting, you might want to start adding in a touch of stainless steel.

Quick Takeaway For Your Business:

Be This:

Not This:

P.S. If you’re interested in copy that has your audience singing your praises like a whistling tea kettle, hop on a free 30 minute call with me!

Originally published at https://www.sumocreativity.com on November 26, 2020.

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Sara Naderi
Sara Naderi

Written by Sara Naderi

Writer. Mother. Reader. Owner of Sumo Creativity, a copy and content writing agency. www.sumocreativity.com

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