Learn to love no
Dec
18
What was the first word your mother and father taught you?
The word no, wasn’t it?
And how did they teach you the meaning of no? By inflicting pain on your bottom. Why did our parents do that to us? Was it because they didn’t like us, or because they loved us?
They loved us, of course. And they knew that we’d hurt ourselves unless we were taught to avoid certain things. So, for our own goods, they imprinted the meaning of no on our minds the only way they could — by making us fear no.
Today, what’s the only thing that stands between you and everything you want from your selling career?
The word no.
The problem afflicting most of us here is fundamental: we have the wrong attitude toward that most basic word. This attitude, held since earliest childhood, has long outlived its usefulness in our lives.
Don’t make the mistake of viewing this problem lightly. Solving it will do more for your sales performance than learning a dozen new closes. This is true because you won’t give yourself many chances to use those closes until you update your concept of no.
It’s unlikely that you’ve ever thought about this subject. Few people have. Do that now by reading on in an active, questioning way. I’m going to prove to you that no is good, not bad. I’m going to show you why the fear-ridden response to no that you learned as a child has become your road to nowhere as an adult. I’m going to demonstrate how you can pave over that negative old response. I’m going to present your positive new attitude, an attitude that’ll make no your highway m the everywhere of success.
Think back to when you were a child. Were there times when your mother and father got into their danger zones?
Sure there were. A slight difference of opinion between them became a little spat that grew into a mid-sized dispute that somehow flared into a full-blown shouting match. As we’ve said, when people reach their danger zone, they have only two options: withdraw or get hostile. If it was a workday morning when all this happened between your parents, your father probably left for work. That is, he withdrew.
Mom stays home, so she gets to become hostile. Mom has told you not to touch the saucepan. When she walks into the kitchen, there you are, you little rascal, straining to reach the saucepan. What happens next?
Our mother could’ve said, “Sweetheart, come here and sit on Mommy’s lap. I love you, honey. Because I love you, I don’t want you to hurt your body. If you reach up and pull the saucepan off, you’ll scald yourself. Now, since I haven’t been able to effectively communicate with you, darling, I’ll inflict a degree of pain on your backside to help you understand.
“1 said no.” Slap.
Time and patience being in short supply then as now, our parents usually left off that entire first paragraph and came in only for the “I said no” and slap part.
This happens hundreds of times to everyone. Without such protective discipline, few children would reach adulthood in our mechanized society. So, as we grow out of infancy, we get it pounded into us that no is rejection
— and rejection is painful. No is bad.
Then we go to grammar school. We already know something about peer pressure, and in elementary school it gets fierce. All of us there want to be like everyone else. If everyone’s cuffs are rolled under, we better roll ours under. If it’s time to wear the thin belt, better wear the thin belt. If the group favors a certain brand of shoes, or a specific style of clothes, in grammar school you wear them to be accepted by your peers. Remember?
My mother, and I have a wonderful mother, had a fetish for lunch pails. At elementary school I might not have worn the best clothes, but I carried the best lunch pail. Since we moved a lot in those days, I started fifth grade at a new school. When I walked in there the first day swinging my zippy lunch pail, the kids pointed at me and yelled, “Look at the twit carrying the lunch pail. Ha ha ha.” Pails were out. Brown bags were in.
Of course I wanted to be accepted by my peers, and I wanted to keep my mother happy too. So I’d leave home with my gorgeous lunch pail, hide it in an alley, and walk to school with my lunch in a bag. The scheme worked. No trouble at home and the kids accepted me. I was able to make everyone happy.
This is something we all want to do, isn’t it? But in sales there are going to be times when you can’t make everyone happy. And there are going to be times when your clients and prospects will use you to relieve their anxieties. Someone or something puts one of them in the danger zone before you walk through his door. He’s staying, not leaving. So he gets hostile and dumps his anxieties on you. This is a side of sales work that we don’t hear about very often. It provides opportunities, although the average salesperson doesn’t see one of these situations as an opportunity at all. In fact, it throws the average salesperson right into his own danger zone. Once there, he can only withdraw—and lose the sale, or get hostile—and lose the sale. Either way, the average salesperson’s attitude is destroyed for that day, or longer. Many otherwise capable people have left sales work because they couldn’t meet repeated challenges of this kind.
When a prospect or client blows up over a trivial matter or gives you a rough time for no apparent reason, that person has been pushed into his danger zone—but not by you. He needs someone to stand in for the bad guy who isn’t there.
Turn down the bad guy role, and grab the good guy role instead. You can win being a good guy. I’ll tell you how in a moment.
Confronted by a prospect who has suddenly turned hostile, the average salesperson gets anxious about his own dignity. If it requires shouting before withdrawal, he shouts; if his dignity allows a silent stomp out, he silently stomps out—to oblivion with that particular prospect in either case.
The Champion sees the situation in an entirely different light. He knows at once that his prospect is in pain, that countering the prospect’s hostility with more hostility is non-productive, that his own dignity is beside the point. As a human being he wants to help relieve his prospect’s pain; as a business person he wants to move that pain aside so he can get on with business.
Here’s how the Champion wins by casting himself as the good guy: he keeps calm, listens carefully, and speaks to the heart of the matter at the first opportunity.
“Mr. Prospect, I’m getting the feeling that you’re really more troubled by something that has nothing to do with me or my company than you are about what we’ve been discussing. (Don’t pause.) I understand how these things work. Why don’t you lay a little of that burden on my shoulders? I think that’ll make it easier for both of us. Getting things like that off your chest is something you just have to do, and talking to someone not directly involved can be a great way to clarify your thinking about a problem. Would you like to tell me about it?”
Speak clearly as you say those words, and don’t hurry them. The hostile prospect usually waffles at first—denies that he has a problem or pretends to ignore your statement. Then, if you’ve demonstrated genuine empathy, the chances are that he’ll drift into talking about what’s bothering him. Once he gets started, he’ll probably use up the available time telling you all about it. Don’t worry. He’ll invite you back, or he’ll say something like, “Enough of my personal problems. What’re you here to sell me?”
You tell him.
“What would my cost be?”
You tell him.
“Let’s skip the usual blarney. You know what our needs are. Can your machine handle them?”
You tell him it can. That’s true, of course, or you wouldn’t be there.
“All right, I’ll give you a purchase order for it. Stop in and see me the next time you’re out this way—I might have a lead for you.”
A Champion knows when his most effective presentation is not to give one.