This transcript was generated from the episode audio and may contain minor errors.
[Music]
Oh yeah, hey, what's up? Thanks for tuning in. It's Chris Guillebeau here, your host of Side Hustle School for 2,400 days in a row. That's right, it is episode 2,400 today. It's been approximately, by that I mean exactly, 2,400 days since January 1, 2017, when we started the podcast.
Thank you for being such a big part of the community, whether you've been here from the beginning or you just tuned in, I don't know, yesterday, whatever it is, you are awesome. You are the reason we make this podcast. It's all about helping you create extra income without quitting your job. That is our single-minded mission. We do that in lots of ways through case studies, tips, stories, questions and answers, dialogue, community projects, and even today, a segment known as Failure Friday.
If you've been around for a while, you know how it works. Failure Friday is a collection of short stories about mistakes, missteps, disasters, and of course, failure, all of the things that don't go so well. Now, it's fun to work on this segment because I get to hear all kinds of projects that maybe were a good idea but didn't actually meet with the desired results perhaps, or maybe weren't the best idea, whatever the case may be, or sometimes some circumstance conspires to totally derail the project, whatever it is. Today, we're gonna hear about a dial-a-poem hotline. Dial-a-poem.
Poem, poem, however you like to say it. In this week's segment, we're gonna hear from a longtime poetry lover who offers a service called Dial-a-Poem, basically a personal poetry hotline. Okay, now this is Alice from Spokane, Washington. She's a longtime poetry lover. She thought it would be cool to offer this service and it actually was pretty cool, but here on "Side Hustle School," we like things to be profitable as well.
So therein lies the difficulty. All right, let's hear the story from Alice. [Music]
Hello, this is Alice Cunningham, a lover of poetry who recently moved to Spokane, Washington. As someone who'd often found comfort and joy in poems, I had an idea. Dial-a-poem.
It was supposed to be simple. People would call a number and I'd recite a beautiful poem, a kind of personal poetry hotline. I pictured folks dialing in for a soothing verse before bedtime or a motivational stanza to start the day. I genuinely believe there was a market for this. After all, hadn't we all seen the popularity of mindfulness apps?
What better mindfulness practice than immersing oneself in a beautiful poem? But of course, I didn't think it through as much as I should have. The business model was straightforward, $10 for a single call or $40 for a pack of five. I plan to recite poems from all genres and periods, hoping to cater to a wide audience. Armed with nothing but my phone, a journal, and my substantial collection of poetry books, I launched Dial-a-Poem.
I put the word out on my Instagram, printed flyers for local cafes, and asked my friends if they'd beta test the service. The initial response seemed promising, but in hindsight, I can see that they were from friends and family who just wanted to encourage me. They called in, praised the concept, the choice of poems, even my reading voice. It was heartwarming, and I felt like I was on the brink of something special. As the weeks turned into months, it became clear that this wasn't going to be the poetic revolution I'd imagined.
Despite my efforts, the dial-in rates remained dishearteningly low. It seemed that people didn't want poetry on demand as much as I'd believed. In fact, my friends and family were my only callers, and I could tell that they were doing it more out of support than genuine need for the service. The silence on the other end of the line was deafening. Eventually, I had to face the music, dial a poem was a flop.
No one wanted to pay for poetry recitals over the phone, and my dream of making the world a more poetic place was dashed. In retrospect, I realized that while poetry is a beautiful art form, it's not a commodity. I learned that you can't force a market where there is none. It's crucial to validate your business idea before plunging headfirst into it. Also, I learned that support from friends and family, while well-meaning and cherished, is not an accurate gauge of business viability.
They were there for me as loved ones, not as my target audience. Next time I start something, I'm just gonna start it completely on my own and not even mention it to people I know. In the end, dial a poem was an ill-fated venture, but not a regrettable one. I learned valuable lessons about market demand, business validation, and the difference between a hobby and a profitable idea. I still love and read poetry, but I'm looking for something new for my next side hustle.
[Music]
Alice, yes, alas, dial a poem may not have worked, but nevertheless, I appreciate you sharing this story, and I remind you, and all of our listeners, never confuse a single defeat with a final defeat. There's something else out there for you. To all of our listeners, there's something else out there for you too. If you've got an idea and you're beginning to take those steps toward it, or if your existing project isn't going so well, or you're trying to scale or grow your existing project, whatever it is, there's something out there. I just wanna encourage you and cheer you on, and I hope that you keep taking steps, positive steps toward something you believe in.
That's what it's all about. Today's show notes, sidehustleschool.com/2400, 2400. In fact, episode 2400. Guess what? Tomorrow, 2401.
Thanks for being out there once more. My name is Chris Guillebeau. This is "Side Hustle School." [Music]
from the Onward Project.
