“Xiaolan, is this how you’re planning to give away the stockings?”

While Li Feimei still didn’t quite understand, Liu Yong laughed, “Isn’t this just another way to get people to buy more clothes?”

Seeing Li Feimei and Liu Fen’s confusion, Xia Xiaolan patiently explained, “Do we have any single items in our store that cost more than 168 yuan? We’re not selling the stockings – if people want them, they’ll need to spend 168 yuan. They can buy whatever they want, but as long as it totals 168 yuan in one purchase, they get a free pair of stockings.”

This was more stimulating than simply offering a 10-yuan discount on purchases over 168 yuan.

Those who could spend 168 yuan on clothes would buy regardless of a 10-yuan discount. Though stockings only sold for 10 yuan, they were scarce goods in Shangdu, and their psychological value exceeded just one 10-yuan note.

Currently, Blue Phoenix has no single items priced over 168 yuan. The most expensive was the wool coat that Chen Xiliang had strongly promoted – Xia Xiaolan had sold it for 140 yuan at her stall, then raised it to 158 yuan when they moved to the store. This was their priciest item, and they didn’t even have it in stock now. Customers would need to buy at least two items to reach 168 yuan.

They could make several dozen yuan profit on two pieces of clothing, while a pair of stockings only cost a few yuan – giving them away wasn’t a big deal.

They were giving away stockings now, but Xia Xiaolan planned similar promotions later – giving away cosmetics, wallets, and other small items. If they had computers, she’d even implement a points system. Manual record-keeping would be too troublesome and hard to track, creating extra work for Liu Fen and Li Feimei.

When Bai Zhenzhu telegraphed that she’d gathered another hundred pairs of stockings to ship by train, Xia Xiaolan smiled:

“Once we receive the stockings, we can start this promotion!”

Two posters went up in the store and one at the entrance, announcing the Spring Customer Appreciation Event starting February 20th.

As soon as the posters went up, customers started inquiring. Some who had planned to buy clothes changed their minds, deciding to come back on the 20th. Of course, such customers weren’t too numerous – not everyone wanted free stockings… A pair cost 10 yuan, but you needed to spend 168 yuan to get them free, quite a difference to consider.

Fortunately, the store carried not just women’s wear but also some men’s clothing.

If spending 168 yuan on oneself seemed too much, one could buy for the men in the family. The store’s men’s selection was limited but high quality – shirts and suits were well-made, with suits costing over a hundred yuan. Add a cheaper item, and reaching 168 yuan wasn’t difficult.

The stockings from Bai Zhenzhu arrived as promised. When the promotion officially started on February 20th, it exhausted all three of them. Though business hadn’t reached the pre-New Year peak, by evening’s accounting, daily sales had jumped from 800-900 to over 2,000 yuan.

Only ten pairs of stockings had been given away, costing just a few dozen yuan, while sales increased by over a thousand, with profits of several hundred – what was a few dozen yuan in giveaways? Liu Fen and Li Feimei finally understood why Xia Xiaolan had switched from selling stockings to giving them away.

What was the point of promotions if not to earn more money?

“It’s like when we had stalls – when people bargained, you’d give them scarves or gloves even though the price wasn’t much lower?”

Li Feimei finally made the connection.

Xia Xiaolan nodded, “Exactly! But we can’t give things away randomly. Why would I give stockings to someone buying just one pair of pants? When they spend 168 yuan, our profit is guaranteed – giving away one pair of stockings doesn’t cost much.”

The stockings’ appeal wasn’t magical, but they encouraged more shopping.

Someone might buy a hundred yuan worth of clothes, then think they might as well spend a bit more to get free stockings. What about those who wanted stockings but couldn’t buy enough clothes themselves? They’d bring relatives and friends – as long as their combined purchases reached 168 yuan, they’d get the stockings and could decide among themselves how to share them.

The clear increase in sales proved Xia Xiaolan’s promotional method worked.

The poster advertised “while supplies last – limited to 50 pairs,” but they had 100 pairs in stock. If business was good, they could essentially offer unlimited stockings… People in ’84 didn’t know these marketing tactics and believed there were only 50 pairs.

With sales improving, Xia Xiaolan thought about installing a telephone.

She’d assumed it was just a matter of money and was prepared to pay several thousand yuan for installation. But when she went to the telephone bureau, they just asked about her family’s official rank.

What rank did she have?

The property owner, Grandmother Yu, was just a street sweeper.

She and her mother were private business owners!

In ’84, installing a home phone wasn’t about money – there weren’t enough lines. Even if you killed the telephone bureau staff, they couldn’t install phones for every urban worker’s home. Xia Xiaolan didn’t argue with them. After some cigarette diplomacy, someone kindly explained the requirements for phone installation.

You needed both a “line” and a “number.” A “line” referred to the external telephone lines – each box had about 15 lines, with one kept as backup in case of failure. In Grandmother Yu’s area, it wasn’t clear if all 15 lines were used up, but surely leading cadres’ homes deserved phones more than a private business owner?

Beyond lines, each area had limited phone numbers available in the bureau’s switchboard. Why give one of the few remaining numbers to Xia Xiaolan?

Even Hu Yongcai couldn’t help with this – Xia Xiaolan’s phone installation plans had to be temporarily shelved.

If she wanted to find someone, Secretary Hou from the ribbon-cutting ceremony might have been able to help. But was installing a phone worth asking Secretary Hou? He respected Shao Guangrong, who was connected through Zhou Cheng and Kang Wei – Xia Xiaolan felt it was too roundabout.

Grandmother Yu suggested:

“There’s a public phone at the end of the next alley. You could give people that number.”

Use a public phone as a private line?

Xia Xiaolan tested the distance herself – she could run there in five minutes. She decided to follow Grandmother Yu’s suggestion! In this era, what was wrong with running five minutes to answer a phone? The caller might have spent an hour or two getting through, so waiting a few more minutes wouldn’t matter.

The public phone was in a small booth, with a middle-aged woman responsible for calling out when someone had a phone call. Xia Xiaolan occasionally brought her bags of Guoguang apples or packets of candy to build rapport with Sister Cheng, the phone attendant, and they quickly became familiar.

Sister Cheng, skillfully spitting out sunflower seed shells from the seeds Xia Xiaolan had brought, said:

“As long as you’re home, I’ll make sure you get your calls. If you’re not here, I’ll write down what people say.”

“Thank you, Sister Cheng!”

“Don’t thank me yet – it’s five fens per call announcement, that’s the standard rate for everyone, and you’ll need to pay that.”

This was Sister Cheng’s legitimate income – five fens per call announcement. Xia Xiaolan wouldn’t skimp on that.

“Don’t worry, I’ll follow the rules.”

Xia Xiaolan took out two 10-yuan notes, “Please take this as advance payment, and deduct from it as we go.”

Prepaying for phone calls was unheard of then. Sister Cheng was surprised – neighbors had said Xia Xiaolan and Liu Fen were Grandmother Yu’s poor relatives who suddenly appeared just for her house. These neighbors didn’t know about “Blue Phoenix,” and Hu Yongcai’s wife wouldn’t gossip. Seeing Xia Xiaolan’s generosity, Sister Cheng mentally cursed those spreading rumors.