What is it about being snowed in that makes you want to put on your fat pants and eat sugar and flour until you pass out in a carb-induced coma?
Well, I don’t know, but this past week when “snowmegeddon” happened, I found myself wanting to make apple waffle sticks based on a 5-second Facebook video I saw about a week ago that made it look like pure cinnamon-sugar bliss. What could be easier?
Yeah…wait for it.
I start digging around in the pantry for pancake mix only to discover we’re out. No problem, I’m good at adulting so I’ll make it from scratch. So, I search online and find an apple fritter recipe I MUST make, mostly because the pictures look SO good I wanna cry.
One problem.
As I skim the instructions and start mixing the ingredients, I realize I don’t have regular flour. Only almond flour—and I’m not sure how long it’s been sitting in the back of the pantry. I think, “We’re in survival mode here!!!” because of the snow and use it anyway.
Next, as I’m about to cook these bad boys, I notice a little detail I must have skipped over: “A lot of people ask me if they can bake these instead of frying them. Sorry, this recipe must be fried in oil at 350 degrees.” OK, I go looking for oil and discover we’re ALSO out of canola oil. Dammit.
Do I give up and just eat the day-old jelly donuts in the pantry? Nope. I just pivot and decide to cook them in the waffle iron. That’s technically not baking (although it’s technically NOT frying them either). But I’ll just put a stick of butter on the iron and call it even. I mean, it’s almost like frying, right? Heat and oil?
I make the recipe and realize there’s a reason why it has to be fried. It’s DOUGH, not batter. There will be no dipping apple slices into this because it has the consistency of kindergarten paste. So now what? Well, I decide to just lay the apples on the iron, plop the dough on top, press down and wait for that crispy, appley goodness to emerge.
Initially, they look pretty good! They’re brown, but not as crisp as I’m imagining, so I cook them more. When smoke starts to emerge, I remove them and put them to the real test: What do they taste like?
Well, let’s just say the flavor was good, but the consistency was like construction-grade drywall mud that’s been formed into an irregular hockey puck and baked in an oven for a week. It needs maple syrup to ensure it doesn’t get stuck in my throat. Lots of it. Like a Costco-size drum.
Since I’m not a quitter, I choke ‘em down anyway (sunk cost fallacy at its best). Well, truth is I only eat one because I’m pretty sure I’ll have digestive issues until Spring if I continue. I offer one to Rocket, who was patiently sitting next to me in the kitchen in a pool of drool. He takes it, chews on it for 3 seconds, and spits it out like I insulted his German ancestors. I pick it up and offer it to him again. He looks at me like I’m trying to give him salmonella.
So why am I torturing you with my apple fritter failure?
Because it’s the EXACT same story I see when I give MSPs a marketing “recipe” to follow.
Step 1: They get FOMO after seeing or hearing of some result another MSP generated with a stupidly simple, dirt-cheap marketing campaign they implemented and—BOOM—they’re swimming in an ocean of new, high-profit MRR clients begging them to take their money. They jump on it in a moment of passionate desperation.
Step 2: They “read” the recipe. By which I mean they skim the recipe, skipping over the big words and ignoring the pesky little details like, “Don’t spam people” or “make sure you have an SDR who at least sounds like they’re from the same hemisphere.”
Step 3: They get into the project and suddenly realize they’re missing multiple important components: No lead-generation magnet, horrible website, no USP, missing testimonials, and an email list of prospects smaller than my dignity after my waffle iron fiasco. But instead of pausing and waiting to get things lined up properly, they improvise. They skip steps, change the process, and introduce shortcuts because “that should still work, right?”
Step 4: They end up with a hard, dry piece of crap with less flavor than my apple-dough abomination.
Step 5: They give up, throw out everything, and decide they’re just not “cut out” for this marketing stuff. Or they blame the recipe, saying, “It didn’t work for THEM,” as though they’re some special case, facing dire situations that nobody else in the free world has ever had to overcome.
Bottom line? If you’re going to pay for a coach or a plan, FOLLOW IT. Don’t waffle-iron it into a sad hockey puck of failure.
