Wednesday, June 20, 2007

Chapter 13-Heels of Success

FOLLOWING RIGHT ON THE HEELS of the Venetian show and Guido incident, we set up at the JCK Show at the Sands Convention Center, near the Venetian.
The only problem was that Jude didn’t actually book us a booth; she couldn’t because there was a 10-year waiting list. Instead, she convinced a friend who had a large booth to share. We didn’t actually share the 20-foot space; he gave us a table about two-feet square at the back of his booth, for which we were very grateful.
His extensive array of gorgeous jewelry dwarfed our line, but we were happy. Since sharing a booth was strictly forbidden, we were flying under the radar—no signs, no flyers, and no promo¬tions. We just kept a low profile. Yet, even at that, hidden in the back, without even a sign, we grossed a half million dollars in sales.
The Manheim’s people tempered the elation over our success at the Sands when they asked us what our Fall line would look like. Did we have anything new?
It was nearly the end of July. And much like the first time we shipped to Doris, we realized she still hadn’t told us what to send.
In standard industry practice, the buyer dictates which items you are offering that she wants in the stores, using your line sheets and phone conversations to arrive at a final decision—hopefully more than two weeks prior to shipping.
Also standard practice, all products in the Fall line must arrive at Manheim’s no later than August 15th for sale in September. All I could think of was Marley, our fairy godmother in Shipping, and all Jude could think about was the possibility of missing an entire season. Neither of us was looking forward to arriving in Orange County the next day looking forward to the prospects of more 18 hour days readying the line for shipment.
I called Doris when we got back to our room and told her that all the buyers at JCK loved our line and we’d done very well, but just what did she want us to send her for this next shipment?
As always, in her scattered, but nevertheless effective style, she simply said, “Do what you think is best, but I must have $30,000 worth for each store by August 15th. And this time, use Fed Ex.”
Coming off a $500,000 showing at the Sands, Doris had just ordered another $150,000 worth of merchandise to our sales. We were ecstatic, but there was still the very difficult job of filling the orders.
It was time to hire another person. We were desperate for help in operations and I wound up finding exactly what we was looking for in my own backyard literally.
Cleopatra, or Cleo as we call her, was living in our garage apartment. She is an astounding young musician who was in the United States on a full scholarship to USC and playing for the Orange County Symphony Orchestra.
My husband, who sits on the board, was attending a Symphony meeting when the director mentioned that a student needed a place to stay while studying music. Rich volunteered our home and Cleo moved in the next day. Cleo continued her studies and became a wonderful addition to our family and a second daughter to me.
When I knew I needed help, I wanted someone I could trust and had to look no further than Cleo. When I asked if she would join us, she was thrilled with the opportunity and came to work immediately.
About a year and half later I realized that Cleo, Lorraine, Jude and I could not do all that was required to run our growing busi¬ness. Everyone was working at maximum levels and again it was time to hire another person. Cleo’s work ethic mirrored ours, so it was natural for me to ask her if she knew anyone who was looking for work. As it turned out, Cleo’s brother, who is also an out¬standing musician, had a girlfriend who was looking for work. Upon meeting Camillia, I knew immediately that she too would be the perfect fit for our business. She started in September of 2004.
Rounding out our team is Ioana, also a friend of Cleo and Camillia’s who started that same December. She has been the per¬fect fit for us. Finally, Jude and I had a brilliant team assembled to take our growing company to the next level.
At this point, we had Loraine handling accounting, Barbara handling national sales, Cleo, Camilla and Iona—an eclectic, cre¬ative, and efficient team that was also family. Fast on the heels of the second Las Vegas show, we had managed to pull some very thick strings and got a booth of our own at the second JA Show of the year in New York, held in July. By then, Jude had unraveled the secrets of prime positioning. There was a portion of the show designated as the “Designer Section” and, of course, it was more expensive than our spot by the bathroom in January. This was truly a coup.
For a change, this trip from Orange County was uneventful. Our children were out of school for the summer and were either in camp or were staying with my husband Rich.
We were anxious at the thought of having such a strategic posi¬tion at such an illustrious showcase. Anyone who was anyone in the retail jewelry business would be there looking for new and unique ideas and products.
By now, Jude was hitting her stride in her marketing efforts and she had put together a great press kit to announce our “arrival” and presence at the august occasion. Ron, Jude’s friend and assistant from her photography days, took a great picture of the two of us sitting on top of a giant green apple, and then super¬imposed the Manhattan skyline in the background. We sent it to all the press that covered the show as well as some of the more promi¬nent attendees/buyers. The mailing was a huge hit, which just continued to solidify what we hoped would eventually be part of our plan to brand our image—everything would be green and black, always using the apples as a prop. It had the makings of all successful marketing; it was unique and memorable and it set us apart from all the look-alike advertising in the industry. And believe it or not, we won the prestigious Golden Apple Award for innovations in jewelry marketing.
The show was to run from Sunday morning until Wednesday afternoon, but because of the rules and laws governing labor union personnel, no one was allowed in the Javitz Center to begin set up before 1:00 Sunday afternoon. All exhibitors were supposed to be out of the building no later than 8:00 that night.
By this time, we’d grown savvy about shipping our product line ahead and not trying to carry everything on the plane. Besides, our line was much larger now and it needed to be sent in a trunk. In addition, union personnel are the only ones allowed to bring the products into the Center. They deliver shipments to the booths, at which point the exhibitors are free to unpack, add decorations and promotional materials—in short, set up.
Jude and I got to our area promptly at 1:00 to find nothing, which at first was no big thing. There were over 200 booths in the Center and we knew it would take time for everyone to get their merchandise.
However, after waiting two hours without a hint of when our trunk would show up, we began to get concerned. Jude went to the delivery area to inquire while I sat at the booth and tapped my fin¬gers. When she returned, she was considerably more concerned than when she’d left.
With furrowed eyebrows and biting her lip, she related her findings. According to the union guys, most of the merchandise had been delivered already, and there were only a couple more booths to go.
We managed to remain positive until about 5:00, when we finally went into full-blown panic. It was obvious our trunk had been lost somewhere, and in it, more than $50,000 worth of our jewelry. More importantly, we’d already paid for the booth and all the pre-show marketing—all nonrefundable expenses with airline fares and hotel charges on top of that.
All that night we lay awake, half panicked that our trunk would never arrive. Finally, I fell asleep at 4:00 a.m., resolved that whatever was about to happen would happen for some reason. When the alarm sounded at 5:30, I felt as if I was in a coma, barely able to raise my head off the pillow. I’m sure that Jude felt the same.
We dressed quickly, gulped some coffee, and were downstairs within 10 minutes, in the cab, and off to the Center. Exhibitors were allowed to come in at 6:30, so when the doors opened we ran as fast as we could to our booth.
No trunk.
My heart fell down into my stomach. We just sat on the two foldout chairs, our heads in hand. However, the doors didn’t open to the buyers until 9:30, so all was lost—not yet.
Finally, at 9:00 a.m., a man in a pair of dirty overalls came down the aisle with a solitary trunk on a dolly. We crossed our fin¬gers and prayed he would stop at booth number 181.
“You JudeFrances?” he asked.
“Yes. Yes,” we chimed together.
“Well, I think we’ve found your trunk.”
“Oh, thank God,” I said, as I knelt down and planted a big slobbery kiss on the top of the heavy box.
Behind me, Jude was doing an Irish jig around the inside of our booth, holding her fists high in the air in joy.
“No ma’am. This isn’t your trunk. I just said, I thought we might have found it—in New Jersey. It might have been sent on the wrong shipment.”
All the air left my body as I slumped to the floor and Jude stopped dancing.
“We’ll keep an eye out, though. If it is in New Jersey, I’ll come back and let you know,” he said, and off he went pushing someone else’s merchandise.
By the time the buyers began filing in, we had lost all hope and were about to pack up our sign, flyers, and table coverings, when the same man came back, still pushing what looked like the same trunk.

New York Trade Show
“Ma’am, I’m so sorry. This is your trunk. They did find one in New Jersey, but it was supposed to be delivered to someone called Francis. Somehow, the office got it all screwed up.
“The bill of lading on this one is wrong, too. It says, J. Fran and it says booth 818 instead of 181. I’m really sorry, ma’am. Have a nice day,” he said as he pushed the cart into our booth.
While buyers were already filing in, we began to frantically set up our displays. If everything happens for a reason, the only reason I can conceive of for this latest adventure/lesson, was to teach us patience.
We finished the weekend selling $500,000 worth of jewelry.
With each new person we hired, we continued to follow our one Human Resources dictum: Surround yourself with people who have the talents or the desires that you don’t. By the time we’d hired Barbara in sales, it was painfully obvious that we would never grow to the next level without more help.
There are nearly 4,000 retailers in the United States who sell our type of jewelry, all of whom were potential clients. You can’t reach them all with one or two people. Barbara gave us a huge shot of credibility and she opened doors we might never have even known existed, let alone knocked on.
My husband Rich had been on the board of directors of a phe¬nomenal local company called St. John’s Knits. He introduced us to Susan Bush, a human dynamo who was an executive there in charge of more than 500 people. She had forgotten more about running a business and managing people than Jude and I would ever learn, but that didn’t keep me from inviting her to join our company on a consulting basis. We didn’t even have a title for her but I knew we needed her experience, enthusiasm, and business acumen if we were to take it to the next level.
Susan kindly accepted our offer, leaving behind a fabulous job that was paying her far more than we could. There were now seven of us at JudeFrances Jewelry.
At the end of that summer, our generous, if scattered bene¬factor once again came through. Doris had managed to secure a full-page ad in the Manheim’s designer’s catalogue. That space alone was worth $30,000, but it turned out to be a mixed blessing. We were given absolutely no say in the design, or even what pieces to use. That was all dictated by the company and, as it turned out, when Doris finally did leave Manheim’s, her replacement billed us for the space.
All in all, though, it had been a fantastic year. We closed out December of 2004 having sold nearly $5.4 million worth of jewelry.