Techniques for When
the Going Gets Tough
It was quite some time ago, before YouTube and Facebook. A time in which not everyone had their own website, and photos were still sent by conventional mail. I was a young sales trainer with a photo of a client whom I was waiting to meet at the Frankfurt airport. A classic sales situation: the first contact, the opening phrase, the gesture of greeting, the right approach to the customer.
The man came out of the gate. I walked up to him and in a friendly manner said, “Did you have a good flight?”
He replied, “I wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t, would I?”
Just like that, right between the eyes. Limbeck the nimble-witted, eloquent sales trainer opens the conversation with the most insipid, clichéd, elevator music of a question.
This happens. Sometimes you just put your foot in it. Critical situations will occur. Sometimes you find yourself in a tight spot. In those moments it’s good to have a few techniques up your sleeve to save you. Like a lifeboat.
So, how do I salvage a situation such as this one? Gloss over it? Pretend not to hear and ignore it? Make a humorous remark to defuse the situation? No, not in this scenario nor in any other scenario that I will be illustrating in this chapter. The basic approach to take is to remain honest, natural, genuine, upstanding, and truthful. Precisely when I’m on the rocks is when I have to keep my ego at bay. A shot of humility, a pinch of modesty, and all is well. Most of the time.
And so it was that on my client’s arrival at the airport I plainly conceded a small psychological victory. You have to learn how to lose graciously. So I replied, “OK, you won the first round. That was a stupid question. Now where would you like to go for our meeting?” That’s lifeboat number one.
Hail, Thunder, and Lightning
Recently I found myself in a similar situation. In that case I also admitted my blunder and combined it with a compliment. Lifeboat number two. This is what happened: I had the sales director of a big company on the phone. We’d known each other for years and respected each other, presumably because we were very similar: two men with larger-than-life egos. We were discussing an upcoming seminar and were going through some details. At one point I brought up a particular theme that I wanted to address at the seminar, and abruptly my client went quiet, not unlike an old western where a single cicada chirps while tumbleweed blows leisurely across the screen.
I was perplexed. “So, what do you say?” I asked to ease the tension a little. That’s when I heard a wry smile creep into his voice. “Ah, the power of silence. Never fails to amuse.”
With that move he had really slid the ball right past me. With his silence he had taken the initiative straight out of my hand. I had to hand it to him, in that moment he was a notch above me. But that’s OK; one round doesn’t win the match, and next time I’ll be on my toes. I said, “Hey, you got me. It’s always good to play with a pro.”
Situations like these are easy to resolve, because they simply show the client that the salesperson was a little careless. It is trickier, however, when the salesperson’s character traits get in the way. And I’m not talking about positive traits like warm-heartedness and compassion. I mean the kind that you cannot tolerate: arrogance, tactlessness, and presumptuousness.
It gets trickier when character traits get in the way.
Presumably nobody is immune to these. I’m certainly not. The question then is simply: What do you do? Can you manage to reel in your ego in time? This happened to me on my first presentation in the Club 55, the European Community of Experts in Marketing and Sales. Membership in this community is by invitation only. The endorsement of other members is necessary, and the aspirant is then asked to give a presentation. Only then do the members decide if the candidate should become a fellow member of the club.
I was in my early thirties, had celebrated my first successes, and was to be the youngest sales trainer given membership at Club 55. I gave a presentation which, considering my present standards, was mediocre. That, however, was not the problem.
In the auditorium sat one of my greatest heroes: Hans-Uwe Köhler, an eminent German sales trainer, speaker, and author. Time and again during my presentation, I noticed him writing something down on a pad. I was so astounded that a great man like him was evidently taking note of something that I, the rookie, had to say that within seconds I lost all inhibition and got too cocky for my own good. As I wandered through the audience I couldn’t resist leaning over to him and saying, “It’s good to see you making notes, Mr. Köhler, you just might learn a little something today.”
And with that, the atmosphere suddenly snapped. I went ice cold. Then I flushed with heat. I felt all the stares of the audience converging right on my forehead, nailing me to the spot. Although looks can’t kill, I would have preferred that they did so right then and there. Had I not glimpsed a friendly look from Nikolaus Enkelmann, a well-known German success and personality trainer, my presentation would have foundered in that very instant.
My only way of getting through the remainder of the speech consisted in focusing fully on this warm look from a single member of the audience amid a sea of glacial faces. Lifeboat number three is: Clutch at any available straw and hold on to it like your life depended on it.
One of the big dangers with success is that it can make you arrogant. And on that particular day I was a tactless, arrogant fool—just as if a yoga instructor from Podunk were giving the Dalai Lama tips on how to meditate.
On that particular day, I was a tactless, arrogant fool.
Whoever makes this kind of mistake is at the mercy of other people’s generosity. I was fortunate, because after my presentation, Hans-Uwe Köhler rightly remarked that it would be a little while yet before I became one of the greats. If you look carefully, there was something of a compliment concealed in what he said. But this compliment was more of a reflection on Hans-Uwe Köhler’s eminence than on my career prospects.
Recently, Hans-Uwe Köhler was speaking to Edgar K. Geffroy, another illustrious German thinker, author, and speaker, after a performance of mine and said to him, “The fact that Limbeck has gotten so good is because I’ve been hounding him relentlessly.” Indeed, he has always spurred me on and represents a benchmark for me. I consider myself very lucky to have him as a friend today.
In addition to the moments of icy moods from the crowd there are also those disastrous instances in which you feel that everything around you is about to explode, situations in which the mood in a negotiation is so highly charged that it will have no choice but to erupt into a violent storm. You can feel the electricity crackling in the air, and the lightning is sure to follow. In such a climate, it is vital for a good sales professional to keep a firm grip on her ego and her emotions. A simple strategy is not to take yourself too seriously and to slow things down: “That is certainly an interesting aspect. If I’ve understood you correctly you mean that . . . Am I right in my assumption?”
By summarizing your client’s position you defuse the situation. You’re a pilot making another round over the airport before receiving the all-clear from the control tower to land your plane. That’s lifeboat number four.
Some top sales personalities thrive in situations where bedlam reigns. But to do this you have to have a great deal of self-confidence and courage. I was once in a meeting in which a top salesman had the nerve to spring out of his chair in the middle of negotiations and say, “I need some air!” He proceeded to take off his suit jacket and said, “Will you excuse me, gentlemen, nature calls. In the meantime you can order some fresh coffee.”
The interruption came at precisely the right moment. Everyone involved welcomed the breather. After the coffee break the negotiation resumed in a constructive manner and ended in a successful deal. That is lifeboat number five or the ripcord.
And now for lifeboat number six. If you notice from the very outset that you’ve blown your opening strategy for a meeting and the mood is plummeting, try something like this: “I’ve started horribly today. Please excuse me for a moment. I’m stepping out and coming right back in to start over.” In this way you just might break the ice.
Back to Firm Ground
The longer you are in the sales game, the higher the probability that you will find yourself in a situation in which there is simply no way out. At least not for you.
At a pharmaceutical company I was hired to train the sales representatives. The goal of the sales team, a customary one for this particular sector, was to regularly canvass the medical practices and to consistently engage the doctors in new topics. The marketing department of the pharmaceutical company was responsible for generating pertinent scripts for those sales visits and providing product brochures.
Normally I would advise a company to put the sales management and the marketing management at the same table. The advantages are obvious; both departments have the same goal and are therefore working in harness.
In this case it was a little different. At this company the sales director and the marketing director not only had different desks, they also lived in different worlds—opposing worlds. The marketing department complained that their materials did not get enough attention from the sales people. The sales team countered that it should be left to their discretion to decide how to approach their client. Suddenly I found myself between two fronts of a conflict in which there was only going to be one loser: me.
There was guaranteed to be only one loser: me.
The inevitable happened: I became a pawn in each party’s campaign. “Limbeck thinks the marketing materials are pointless,” one of them said. Upon which the other retorted, “Yes, but only because he hasn’t gotten them yet!” And so on.
I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. This firm didn’t need a sales trainer; they needed a mediator for the two opposing department heads. As long as two sides are focusing their energy on waging a personal battle, training is useless. When the great Bavarian comic Karl Valentin was asked what he would do if he were a cowboy riding in a ravine with Comanche Indians at one end and Sioux Indians at the other, he said, “What would I be doing in a ravine?”
If I had known beforehand, I would not have taken the assignment. But I had taken it, so my only choice now was to remain frank and candid and avoid any stray bullets. In this case I didn’t really pull it off. I had evidently said something about the sales scripts to one party, which was promptly used against the opposing side. This in turn drew the accusation that I had stabbed the other side in the back. What was I to do? I opted for lifeboat number seven: an apology.
If a salesperson has made a blunder that is not even her fault but was thrust upon her, often there is no option than to state that it was a mistake, own up to it, and apologize.
Fortunately, thorny problems such as these are rare. More often, and I would say most often, the problem is that the salesperson talks her client into a coma, sounding as interesting as a broken record. And what happens then? The customer simply tunes her out. Whoever has decided to tune someone out will no longer tune back in when the salesperson finally decides to come to the point and close the deal. A customer who doesn’t instantly concur with a salesperson’s argument may have already concurred inwardly and may just be pondering how the product will fit into his personal situation. While the sales professional is thinking, “Oh no, he seems to be in doubt. I should throw another argument out there,” this will only serve to corner the customer more and make him clam up. In turn, the salesperson will panic and keep babbling on and on and on.
At some point, you may notice that the customer is no longer following the thread of the conversation and that you won’t be able to bring him back on track. One way in which you can reorient yourself and get back to firm ground is to ask your customer an open question to find out what he might be thinking at that very moment: “How important is it for you that . . .?” “What do you value most in terms of . . .?” That’s lifeboat number eight.
Don’t wait for your client to finally say, “Yes, you are right. I hereby confirm that I intend to purchase your product.” If you’re waiting to hear this phrase, or something like it, you’re going to blow the deal. The client will sooner articulate an objection or a rejection than a resounding yes.
It is the sales professional’s job to bring the negotiation to a close, not the customer’s. Ask for the sale and do so in a timely manner. If it’s all a little too fast for the customer, he will let you know, without question. In other words, say: “Where shall I send the order confirmation? Can you tell me what your delivery address is? What delivery date would suit you?”
Status Games
A further difficulty often encountered is bad preparation. Out of ten failed deals, nine fail because of insufficient preparation. If something like that happens to you, you may not be the best sales professional, but you’re certainly not alone.
You’re in a bind and about to blow a deal. The customer’s objection has caught you off guard, and for the life of you, you can’t think of a counter-objection. Why? Because you haven’t practiced your list. The ninth life boat for this shipwreck is the following: honest admission. “You’re right to bring up this critical point. I understand that with such an investment you would want to protect yourself against any possible risk. In case you wish to use the product with your employees, it will bring you the following benefits . . . How important are these benefits to you? And when would you need to have this product up and running in your firm?”
Do you see what happened here? You start with an honest admission, follow with a statement of the product’s benefits, and conclude by asking for the sale. A complete game plan.
An alternative is to conduct a thorough needs assessment, to compensate for your information deficiency. However, this strategy is risky because it betrays how badly you are prepared. This can turn out well or not so well. It all depends on how friendly and genuine you come across as a person, how well you judge the character of your customer, and whether you believe that the customer will not use it to your detriment.
Regardless of how it turns out, whoever aspires to be a good sales professional has to remain true and honest in this context as well. Pretending to be knowledgeable, acting as if you are something that you’re not, doesn’t pay off. On the contrary, feigning competence is counterproductive. Forgetting your lines during a play is one thing and can be forgiven. That’s what a prompter is for. But a bad actor who doesn’t know his lines to begin with will be booed off the stage.
Now for the tenth lifeboat. The client in this scenario makes it clear to the salesperson that he is king. He makes her feel like a servant by looking down his nose at her. The pressure that is brought to bear in this context usually concerns money—price, discount, terms of payment, or cancellation conditions.
For a top sales professional, it is forbidden to grovel, kowtow, or become submissive. A top sales professional has her pride and her price. A high price-to-performance ratio means precisely that—not only a high price but also high performance to go with it. If the client should approach the top sales professional in the manner of a feudal lord, then the salesperson will show some backbone, politely and affably, and force the power dynamic back on equal footing: “Let’s be clear. We are both professionals, we’ve been doing this for long enough, and we both know that we . . .”
For the top sales professional it is forbidden to grovel.
Or say you’re with a client, and suddenly his phone rings. What do you say? “Go ahead and take the call”? No! Equal footing! What I recommend is lifeboat number eleven: You say nothing and look the client squarely but politely in the eyes. If it happens a second time, you say in a firm but affable tone, “I can see that you’ve got a lot going on today. Shall we postpone our meeting to another day, or is there any way you can have the calls passed to your assistant? It is important to me that we use our time well, so that we can get the best deal possible for you.”
Another situation: The customer asks you if you’d like something to drink. You instinctively reply, “No, thank you, I had coffee with my last customer.”
Would you respond this way if your rich aunt offered you something to drink? Of course not. You always have to accept a drink. Otherwise you might as well be saying, “You can drink that dishwater yourself, and by the way, I had a better time with my last client.” In this case you can pack your bags right away and head for the exit.
If you should happen to decline a coffee and catch yourself in time, then you can throw out lifeboat number twelve in quick succession: You simply keep talking regardless of having to contradict yourself and say, “But you know what? Your coffee smells so good that I will have one.” Or, “But I’d be delighted to have a glass of water if that’s possible. Thank you.” Who says that you have to drink it all anyway?
A further technique. Say you’re making your pitch: “I’d like to make you the following suggestion. I’m offering you a sensational product. Our company is presenting you with the newest version of so-and-so. In exchange we guarantee you a happy and contented life.”
Did you notice where the mistake was there? In a sales pitch it’s not about the salesperson and his company. It’s about the customer. The customer is not interested in what the salesperson does; she wants to know how she can benefit. So get rid of the I’d like to, I’m offering you, we’re presenting you with . . . Out with the suggestions and in with the proposal: “You will be getting, you will be receiving . . .” Again, if you notice your error in time, namely that you’ve been referring to yourself instead of the customer, use lifeboat number thirteen: Simply delete your wrong phrases by restating them, correctly this time; use you, not I.
And a final one. Imagine you’re selling over the phone and the customer simply hangs up. Bang. What now? Start crying? Lick your wounds? Take a break, sip a soothing cup of tea, and meditate before your next phone call?
No, but how about this? You call right back and say, “I think we just
got disconnected . . .”
The possibility that you’ll draw a chuckle from the customer with this is relatively high. And whoever gets a laugh once will not so easily be hung up on again. That’s lifeboat number fourteen.
