The other day I made a batch of Apricot Moons, and since I'm the only one in the house that eats them, I took half the batch to the office with the intention of sharing. I offered some to a co-worker. Innocently, she asked, "did you make them?"
"Yes," I replied, "and it was kind of funny. I baked them and baked them, and they just wouldn't brown. I kept checking them, and couldn't figure out what was wrong with them, and then I noticed that I didn't have the oven on hot enough. So they sort of got dried instead of browned - like astronaut food. They're freeze-dried moons."
My co-worker looked at me a bit sideways, and mumbled something about being allergic to apricots.
Another co-worker approached. I held out the bag. "What are they?" she asked brightly.
"They're apricot moons. Normally, I make them bigger, but I tried a smaller size this time, only I still used the same amount of filling, and it kind of leaked out when they baked and got all burnt around the edges. Would you like to try one?"
"No thanks," she said through a frozen smile, backing slowly away from my cube.
Now really, they were fine. I ought to know, since I ended up eating almost all of them myself. I just have a problem with trying to keep expectations low. I suspect it comes from all those years I spent in development, where the golden rule was Under promise, over deliver. (Note that if you are a consultant, that rule is reversed.)
Someday, I'll learn how to really sell. Until then, if I offer you apricot moons, don't listen to me - just take one.