Free advice for pros who keep getting asked for free advice

When Ian Wills attends a cocktail party, it’s only a matter of time before the inevitable happens. “Word gets around about who I am, and people start coming up to me,” he says.

Wills is an iPod technician and, day after day, people lean on him for free iPod advice or repairs.
Doctors and lawyers have long endured friends and acquaintances seeking medical or legal tips. But, these days, Wills and others in less-traditional jobs—feng shui consultants, life coaches, Botox specialists—are also feeling put upon. In response, many are developing friendly-but-businesslike techniques to deal with advice freeloaders. They’ve learned the art of the quick answer, the pleasant redirection to other sources and, when necessary, the firm brush-off.
They’ve also established a free-advice hierarchy. Family and close friends are at the top. Acquaintances of acquaintances are near the bottom, just above strangers.

Las Vegas poker champion Scott Fischman, who writes about online poker, says that when he’s invited to social gatherings, he has to decide: “Do I want to spend four hours answering questions (about card-playing) or should I just stay home?” If he does venture out, he strives to remain helpful, briefly explaining how winning at poker comes from “learning how to learn” the game.

Natasha Pearl, who runs a New York lifestyle-management service for a wealthy clientele, says that when she attends charity dinners, tablemates ask her where to find personal chefs, or how to keep housekeepers from bullying kitchen staffers. Pearl is ready with answers. “You probably don’t have good policies in place,” she’ll say. “That’s the environment where bullies thrive.” She charges about $10,000 (Rs4.1 lakh) to find a chef, and up to $20,000 to draw up a housekeeping procedural manual for a mansion. So, she gently lets those seeking free advice know that their queries aren’t easily addressed.

“I pepper them with questions: ‘Do you want a chef who cooks organic, who knows nutrition science, who serves as well as cooks?’ By the sixth question, they’ll say, ‘Oh, I see.’ They realize it’s complicated.”

At a cocktail party, if someone says to a doctor, “I have a medical question,” the doctor can always deliver the old line: “Great. Just get undressed.” Now, those in newer professions—especially computing—are amassing their own quips. ThinkGeek.com has sold thousands of “No, I will not fix your computer” T-shirts in recent years. And Derek Sorensen, who runs WebSiteRepairs.net, has a note on his site discouraging free advice seekers. He wrote: “If I want to give free advice, I’ll find you.”

Still, for many people, it’s hard to turn away advice seekers. Lisa Jacobson is founder of Inspirica, a New York tutoring and test preparation firm. She estimates that 500 acquaintances and strangers a year ask her for free tips on how to get their children into top colleges. One mother approached her at a party and began weeping as she sought advice. Another invited her for Sunday brunch, hoping to learn college admissions secrets. Jacobson even suspects that some parents of grade schoolers have befriended her because they hope she’ll be an asset when their kids are college-bound.

Recently, Jacobson paid a psychologist she knows to help her deal with the crush of advice seekers. “It was taking up so many hours a week, I had to do something,” she says. The psychologist told her to put up more boundaries, to tell people: “Why don’t you call me at the office on Monday?” The psychologist also suggested that she point people to resources—websites, books—so she’s not just turning them away.

That’s how Monterey, California, professional organizer Christy Best operates. When people ask for free advice about overstuffed closets, she offers a few well-chosen lines. “It’s like losing weight,” she’ll say. “You organize a little at a time.” She then directs people to her site, Clutterbug.net.

Aaron Vronko, who co-founded an iPod repair firm, looks at the bright side. Yes, his friends “throw their iPods at me and say, ‘Make it work!’” But he feels lucky that Kalamazoo is not yet a town where everyone has the device. “If I lived in L.A., people would say, ‘Is that the iPod guy? Get him!’ I’d have to change my identity.”

The original article can be found here