Because it’s now time to slam-dunk your win
People act and react in highly predictable ways as they quest to satisfy their emotional needs.
In this chapter you’ll discover how to awaken, trigger, and stimulate conscious and subconscious emotional needs—needs that can be satisfied by your argument’s desired outcome. You will also learn how to cinch consent with your “call for action.”
Call them tendencies. Predispositions. Impulses. Our preprogrammed subconscious responses to what goes on around us.
Negri’s Occidental Hotel is located in Sonoma County, California. A bold sign above the urinals in its men’s room reads: STAND CLOSE.
It’s not nice to look. But if it’s for the sake of science, it’s not “looking” or “peeking.” It’s “observing.” And nobody I observed was obeying Negri’s instruction.
According to a 1997 article in the Wall Street Journal, the tiles under the urinals at the JFK Airport Arrivals Building have a “familiar lemony tinge and rubber-soled shoes will stick to it.” But at Amsterdam’s Schiphol Airport, the tiles under the urinals would pass an army sergeant’s eagle-eyed inspection. The difference isn’t in the mopping. The difference is urinal flies. At Schiphol, each urinal has a fly in it—actually the black outline of a fly, etched into the porcelain. The fly prompts a man to aim. If a man sees a fly, he aims at it, a Schiphol executive explained. The fly etchings “reduce spillage by 80 percent.” Schiphol’s etched fly is calculated to prompt a desired autopilot reaction: aim.1
I will ask students questions. Those wanting to answer raise their hands. I have asked them, “Why did you raise your hands? Why didn’t you stand or respond by saying ‘I want to answer’?” Uniformly they answer, “Because I have always raised my hand.”
Telling men to STAND CLOSE won’t do the trick. But men will naturally take time to aim when presented with a target. Students are conditioned to raise their hands when answering a question.
“While the individual man is an insoluble puzzle, in the aggregate he becomes a mathematical certainty. You can, for example, never foretell what any one man will do, but you can say with precision what an average number will be up to. Individuals vary, but percentages remain constant,” Sherlock Holmes advises us in The Sign of Four.
People aren’t influenced in the abstract. People don’t make decisions in the abstract. There are always reasons. Sometimes logical, sometimes emotional. Sometimes the product of the highly predictable subconscious, emotion-driven tendencies of which Holmes spoke.
Tendencies are predispositions. The predictable way we go about satisfying our emotional needs. When you call on tendency action plays (TAPs) to trigger and stimulate the other guy’s highly predictable emotional needs, you’re directing rather than confronting. It’s your argument’s desired outcome that satisfies the needs you’ve triggered. Here’s how to TAP into those needs:
We have a need to get or see what will soon be gone.
When was the last time you visited a museum? If you’re like me, it was probably to catch a temporary exhibit. Traveling museum exhibits (Fabergé eggs and the jewels of the Romanovs, for example) are more profitable and more popular than permanent exhibits that often are much more impressive. Viewers who haven’t visited their museum’s permanent exhibitions in years rush to see touring exhibits, knowing that they’ll soon be packing up and hitting the road.
Auctioneers are masters of the “fleeting opportunity” tactic. Here’s how a successful Los Angeles art auctioneer owned up to the secret of his success: “Make the auction go quickly. Keep the clock ticking. Keep the environment kinetic. Don’t give bidders a lot of time to think between bids. Create a ‘last chance’ feeling that unless immediate action is taken, the item could be lost to another.”
When I put on the khakis and leather laces, it’s usually with a Hawaiian-style shirt. Shirts that remind me to kick back. Shirts so in-your-face colorful that I know the jacket-and-tie part of my week is over. I know my Hawaiian shirts. On Maui, every other shop sells Hawaiian shirts. The ones that don’t sell Hawaiian shirts sell chocolate-covered macadamia nuts. The shirts and the nuts are my two island vices. As I was thumbing through a center-aisle shirt rack, the clerk pointed to a rack off to the side. “These patterns are flyin’ out the door,” he proudly declared. I knew better. Their flyin’ days were over many luaus ago.
It was a jacket-and-tie day when I met with Scott, a successful home builder, in his Arizona office. A plaster topographic model of Scott’s latest project showed prospective buyers where streets and houses would soon be built. Scott’s model was dotted with itty-bitty trees, cars, greenbelts, and “sold” flags. “We really haven’t sold this many houses,” Scott confided as he pointed to the itty-bitty “sold” flags, “But this should heat things up.”
“The X factor. It’s the one unpredictable element that can put the kibosh on even the most brilliant of fleeting opportunity pitches. That factor is inertia,” writes Entrepreneur.
Inertia is the propensity people have not to take action. It’s possible that the other person may find your argument convincing, but not respond to your call for action for no reason other than sheer inertia. Hard to swallow, but true. Inertia is one of the most powerful phenomena in the world of influence.
The X Factor is the wall that magazine publishers hit when readers don’t renew their subscriptions. Not because they no longer want the magazine, but because of the X Factor. Their antidote to the X Factor is the “promptness bonus”—the gift, extra issue, or special discount you earn by ordering or renewing within a specified time period. Don’t overlook the X Factor. People by their nature are slow to change or take action. But what is rewarded gets done.
Tap into the other guy’s need to take advantage of your argument’s fleeting opportunities. And remember what is rewarded gets done.
“MEMBERS AND NON-MEMBERS ONLY.”
—SIGN OUTSIDE THE MANDINGA DISCO IN MEXICO’S HOTEL EMPORIO
Scarcity imparts perceived value. Dorothy’s ruby slippers from The Wizard of Oz sold for $165,000. The bullwhip used by Harrison Ford as Indiana Jones sold for $24,300.
A stash of 600 or so cigars was found in a cellar where Irish dampness kept them well preserved and smokable since the 1860s. The owner turned down an offer to sell all of them for $2,000 per cigar—$22 per puff, according to those in the know.
John F. Kennedy’s walnut cigar humidor sold for $574,500. The body tag from Lee Harvey Oswald’s corpse sold for $6,600. The estate of Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis was auctioned piece by piece by Sotheby’s. The auction fetched stratospheric prices, prompting the scene to be dubbed “Camelot craziness.” Intrinsic value played a small part in the frenzy. Jackie’s diamond, ruby, and emerald necklace sold for $156,000. It was resold two years later—this time without the hoopla or hype—for $74,000, a 53 percent plunge from the stratosphere.
On New York’s Madison Avenue, I saw a street merchant selling watches from a case resting on a collapsible stand. Two blocks away, another watch vendor was similarly fixturized for business. Most people walked by the first vendor without missing a beat, but stopped to glance at the second vendor’s wares. The difference? The first vendor’s watches were jammed together sardine style. The second vendor only had six watches on display. He had created an appearance of scarcity.
I had a few hours to kill before heading to the Las Vegas airport and home. Those few hours left me with two choices: gamble or shop. I opted for the shopping. Even pricey stores are a better bet than craps. I headed to the Ralph Lauren Polo store that was then in the Caesar’s Forum Shops.
On an antique table in the middle of the store were five ties perfectly laid out side by side. They were the same except for the color of their stripes. A very different red-orange/bright-blue combination caught my eye. While standing at the cash register, I noticed the tie had a snag. “No problem,” a salesperson said. “Let’s go over to the tie drawer.”
The open drawer revealed a chaotic jumble of about 40 striped ties. Many the same as the one I had chosen. She pulled a tie from the scramble and carefully smoothed it out. Too late. I was turned off the minute the drawer was pulled open. Before going to the tie drawer, my choice was unique, but now it was just another tie. All the smoothing out and tissuepaper wrapping in the world wasn’t going to change that. How we look at everything in life—a New York street vendor’s not-so-fine watches, Polo’s fine ties, and your argument—is a matter of presentation.
I’m not alone in how I felt. Shopping mall stores find that by displaying fewer clothes, they encourage full-price purchases. They know that you’ll be more willing to pay full price for a jacket you love if you see that there are only six of them on the rack.
And while we’re on the fashion scene, remember the little green Lacoste crocodile? At one time the logo only appeared on the finest of cotton knit shirts. But then General Mills bought the Lacoste brand, and soon the croc was appearing on polyester schlock. By the mid-1980s, the logo had little cachet—the victim of overexposure on discounter’s racks.
The Lacoste family came to the croc’s rescue. The brand is back under their control. You may have trouble spotting the croc, though. He can only be spotted in the best of stores and only on the likes of expensive knit shirts and sweaters. The Lacoste family’s save-the-croc strategy: make something less accessible and it becomes more desirable.
And now for some fashion news about the teensy-weensy black bikini: Chanel, the Paris fashion house, introduced the black “eye patch” bikini, named for the approximate area of breast coverage. Only the bikini is teensy-weensy. The tab: $500. When asked about the price, a Chanel publicist explained how special the bikini is, and that the price is based on the fact that you won’t see every woman wearing it. Triumph, the Japanese lingerie-maker, celebrated soccer’s World Cup with 100 limited edition bras with soccer-ball-printed cups. The $130 bras were a sellout.
Or consider baseball cards: Hockey Hall of Famer Wayne Gretzky sold his 1909 Honus Wagner baseball card for $1,270,000 on an Internet auction. It was one of an estimated 50 that remain. Another owner stated he would be glad to rent you his Honus Wagner for $100,000 a year. Forbes warned that the printing and paper don’t justify the card’s exalted status. Collecting baseball cards has never made sense as an investment. When you buy cards, you’re buying inflated goods. You’re hoping some other fool will come along and pay you even more.
It’s called the “Coors Effect.” There was a time when Coors beer was only available in parts of the West. Because people want what they can’t get, a cult following for the beer developed on campuses elsewhere. East Coast students were known to drive hundreds of miles to buy a case of Coors. Years later when Coors became available nationwide, the Coors cult quickly evaporated, as Coors became just another easily gotten brew.
Krispy Kreme suffered the Coors Effect. In late 2000, a Krispy Kreme store opened in Rochester, New York. By 5 a.m., more than 100 people were lined up in a snowstorm to be among the first to get a sugary sweet doughnut hot off the conveyor belt. By 6 a.m., 75 cars were clogging the drive-through lane. The “newsworthy” event was played out on three television stations and live radio. The excitement was real—Krispy Kreme had come to Rochester. But Krispy Kreme grew so quickly that it soon lost its cult status. Today, you can buy the doughnuts at grocery stores, where you fill your gas tank, and in self-serve display cases. “Doughnut theater,” where anxious customers watch behind glass as doughnuts are cooked and then splashed with white glaze, just isn’t exciting “theater” anymore.
Tap into the other person’s need to have what’s not easily gotten. Create an aura of scarcity. What is hard to come by has a greater value than what is easily gotten. Availability is a yardstick of quality. It’s what we can’t get that we want most of all.
A couple you hardly know invites you to their daughter’s June wedding. Your own daughter will be getting married over the Fourth of July weekend. Are you going to feel obligated to invite this couple to your daughter’s wedding?
Years ago, my folks decided to sell their home and move in to a condo. They interviewed salespeople from the area’s two largest realtors and were duly impressed by both. I recommended Jerry B., a young fellow who had just opened his own office. Mom and Dad liked Jerry, but they felt they would be better off with a more seasoned pro.
I was surprised to learn that Jerry did bag my folks’ listing. Why did they change their minds? Jerry had a 6-foot salami delivered to them with a note that read: “No baloney, I’d really like your listing.” Mom and Dad felt obligated to reciprocate by giving Jerry his chance. Jerry understood human nature and good deli. Yes, he sold the house. And yes, today he is one of the city’s most successful real estate brokers.
You’ve heard this one before: Knock. Knock. “I’ve got a free gift for you!” Whether it’s a door-to-door salesperson’s “free gift” or an Amway product sampler, people who receive something for nothing feel an obligation to buy. When the Disabled American Veterans seek contributions through the mail, their response rate doubles if unsolicited gummed address labels are enclosed with the solicitation. Maybe this need to reciprocate is because of what we’re taught early on: Only ingrates and the selfish take without giving back.
Tap into the other person’s need to free himself from psychological debt by repaying it. Do something for the other guy because he’s preprogrammed to reciprocate. He’ll meet your concessions with concessions of his own. Use small favors to prompt large favors in return.
Nike’s “Just Do It” ad took a full page:
All your life you are told the things you cannot do. All your life, they’ll say you’re not good enough or strong enough or talented enough. They’ll say you’re the wrong height or the wrong weight or the wrong type to play this or be this or achieve this. They will tell you no and you will tell them yes.
Reebok didn’t have a full-page ad, but managed to say it all in just eight letters: “We let UBU.”
People want to be the most of who they are. Take the U.S. Army’s former recruiting slogan “Be All That You Can Be.”
Calvin Klein ran ads for its unisex ck fragrance as part of its “Just Be” campaign. One ad read “Be a saint. Be a sinner. Just Be.” Another ad read “Be bold. Be shy. Just Be.” Still another read “Be a dreamer. Be a doer. Just Be.”
In the United States, most women regularly shave to remove body hair. Not so in Europe, where attitudes about female hair removal vary from country to country. These attitudes are influenced by long-established cultural conditions and varying notions of beauty. So how did Gillette go about changing European women’s belief that shaving is not just a man’s work? Gillette’s television campaign focused on vignettes of young women with “aspirational” lifestyles. One commercial had children on the beach caressing their pretty young mother’s legs. By showing mothers what they could be, Gillette convinced them to reevaluate their deep-rooted attitudes about hair removal.
We live in a topsy-turvy world of job downsizing, making ends meet, and moral debates. We realize that our own personal aspirations and attitudes must be greater than the sum of our daily duties. More than ever, we need to be able to connect with ourselves. To overcome self-ambiguity. To better understand just who we are. Each of us struggles to make sense of our lives and to deepen our understanding of its purpose. When your argument appeals to a person’s dream of what he or she can become, your ideas will take on new and powerful meanings.
Tap into the other person’s needs to make better sense of who she is. Empower her to be who she is and who she wants to be. Show her how your suggestions can turn her aspirations into reality.
Godiva chocolates come in a gold box and are marketed as “the perfect gift.” Its core market is women older than 35. To counter sluggish sales, the chocolate-maker launched an “aspirational lifestyle” campaign aimed at women between the ages of 25 and 35. Although the word diva in Italian means “goddess,” in pop culture it’s synonymous with pride and strength. Every woman aspires to be a diva. The new campaign plays off the brand name—Godiva. The chocolatier’s advertising agency calls it a “you only live once” campaign, saying, “A diva feels that an indulgent lifestyle has been earned.” The aspirational tag line: “Inside every female is a diva.”
Natural shoe polishes. Natural soft drinks. Natural stuff to change your natural hair color or bronze your natural skin tone.
It seems everyone was squeezing onto the “natural” bandwagon, even when the fit was an awkward one: Alberto VO5 “naturals shampoo” contained sodium chloride, phosphoric acid, sodium laureth sulfate, and so on. Aveeno Moisturizing Lotion “for natural relief of dry skin” contained phenycaribol and dimethicone. Clairol’s Natural Instincts conditioning colorant came with a warning: “Caution: This product must not be used for dyeing the eyelashes or eyebrows; to do so may cause blindness.”
Operation Desert Storm introduced us to “smart bombs.” “Smart” was suddenly the bandwagon link-up word as a blitz of “smart” businesses came into being. The “Smart Chopper” smartly diced and sliced vegetables. “Smart Cuts” was the place to go for a smart hairdo. But there were also “Smart Systems,” “Smart Choice,” “Smart Creations,” “Smart Start,” “Smart Gym,” “Smart Way,” and the “Smart Yellow Pages.”
And then there was the “value” bandwagon and commonly found linkup names: “Valu-Pak,” “Valu-Plus,” “Valu-Rite,” and “value-added software.” The “value” craze got so out of hand that the CEO of Taco Bell in exasperation declared in newspaper advertisements, “Value has become a consumer expectation—‘value’ this, ‘value’ that. Blah, blah, blah.”
To rescue ourselves from the sameness of our days, we’re quick to pick up on what is “extreme.” New York phone company ads touted “Xtreme dialing” and even included a recipe for “Extreme Lemonade” (just add pineapple juice). Snickers candy bars are “extremely nuts.” Playing to the magic of threes, the Suzuki X-90 was pitched as “xceptional. xciting. xtreme.” Boston Market restaurants featured “Extreme Carver” sandwiches. Izod, a clothing manufacturer, pitched “Extreme Leisure” sportswear. “Extreme Investing” was a Fortune cover story. Clairol pitched XtremeFX hair color to teenage boys.
Our friends Mary and Ellen are college-educated, middle-aged women with grown children. They are smart. They are wise. And they have a true sense of what things are worth. So why is it that when we got together with them a few years back, the conversation turned to Tabasco the bull, Kiwi the toucan, Zip the cat, Weenie the dachshund, and Bronty the dinosaur? And how Curly, Valentino, Peace, Glory, Fortune, and the other bears are the hardest Beanie Babies to come by?
When the fuzzy little critters stuffed with beans first hit the market, they retailed for $5.99. A few years later, collectors were boasting ownership of Pinchers the lobster, estimated to be worth $3,000; Brownie the bear, worth $4,500; and Peanut the elephant, worth $5,000.
People started to believe that the reported prices were the actual value. Ty, Inc. had orchestrated a world-class marketing coup. Pulling different models off the market before the demand for that model was fully satisfied created a perceived collector’s value. But as with all crazes, the price of Beanie Babies—including Princess, the teddy created in Princess Diana’s memory—went into a free fall.
A London Observer article found striking similarities between Beanie Babies and the Dutch Tulip Mania.
In the 1630s, in one of the first financial manias on record, the price of tulip bulbs in Holland sky rocketed. At one point, you could trade a single tulip bulb for two stacks of wheat, four stacks of rye, four oxen, eight pigs, 12 sheep, two hogsheads of wine, four barrels of beer, two barrels of butter, 1,000 pounds of cheese, a bed, a suit of clothes, and a silver drinking cup. The Semper Augustus, a tulip bulb, sold for today’s equivalent of $50,000.
And before anyone ever heard the words Beanie Baby….
By 1925, the automobile and airplane had put southern Florida within reach of anyone on the East Coast. Lured by the vision of a vast beachfront playground, speculators sent land prices skyrocketing. Lots in downtown Miami jumped $10,000 an hour some days. Armed with maps and deeds, real estate agents made sales while standing on street corners. It was only after visitors had gotten a taste of southern Florida summers (pre-air-conditioning) and a 1927 hurricane that left more than 400 people dead that the madness finally stopped.
A perceived wave can be as compelling as the real thing: an East Coast disco wanting a hottest-spot-in-town image pays fashionably dressed shills to stand in line outside its front door.
Tap into the other guy’s preprogrammed need to lock-step with what’s new and novel. Tune into fads, trends, and fashions. Link your ideas to what’s hot—or perceived as hot.
Maybe you’re a lot like me. If I’m buying a gift that is the same price at Macy’s as it is at Saks Fifth Avenue, I will go out of my way to buy it at Saks. You get a nice sturdy box, not one of those fold-up jobs. Tissue paper folded just so and sealed with a gold sticker, and a pretty hand-tied ribbon instead of one of those stretchy pretend ribbons. It’s worth going out of my way because I like what buying at Saks says about me.
Self-image ads pitch tooth whiteners, shampoos, and exercise equipment. But here’s how Slim-Fast pulled out all the self-image stops: Slim-Fast’s largest potential market in Europe is the UK, where 38 percent of the population is overweight and where the idea of having a shake or bar replace a meal is a strange notion. To convince British women otherwise, Slim-Fast ads are tapping into their self-image insecurity by telling them to lose pounds or else lose face to their sexier counterparts in Sweden, Spain, and France. One ad is a photo of a French model with the caption “I love British women. They make me look great.” Another ad has a Spanish model and the text “Face it, British women, it’s not last year’s bikini getting smaller.”
To enhance their self-image, inner-city kids want boutique-chic fashion. Designer labels are what is termed “aspirational brands.” Rap stars are given designer clothing to wear when appearing on stage. It’s part of designers’ marketing strategies to create demand for their label in urban culture.
Grey Goose vodka has become a top-seller despite its high price by portraying itself as the vodka of choice for wealthy people with impeccable taste. We think of ourselves as being rational. In truth, we are very emotional. Happiness comes from how we see ourselves. We act in ways that make us appear to both ourselves and others as competent and discriminating.
Premium “sticks”—handmade cigars containing only whole-leaf, “long filler” tobacco—have become a favored accessory for Demi Moore and Arnold Schwarzenegger. It was only natural that hand-rolled cigars have become a “cool tool” for the terminally hip or hip wanna-be.
Feeling a little down? The root of the problem may be on the top of your head, not in it. Frizzy, flyaway, lackluster hair results in low self-esteem, increased self-consciousness, and a loss of confidence. A bad hair day brings out social insecurities. It causes people to concentrate on their negative aspects, according to a Yale University psychology professor in her study with the stop-and-smile title “The Psychological, Interpersonal and Social Effects of Bad Hair.”
Tap into the other person’s need to act in ways that enhance how she sees herself having class, being hip, being discriminating, avoiding embarrassment, and possessing those qualities that magnify her sense of self-worth.
“IN NEW YORK, YOU’RE NOBODY UNTIL A SANDWICH IS NAMED AFTER YOU.”
—THE WALL STREET JOURNAL
Years ago, I was one of three guests invited to speak to a business group. The other two speakers were well-established and well-known.
Before our presentation, there was an informal wine and cheese reception. The arriving audience converged on the two other guests, asking them to autograph their books and answer questions. Unknown and unnoticed, I felt like Dolly Parton’s ankles.
I helped Tommy Lee negotiate his departure from the legendary rock band Motley Crue. So why did Tommy leave? When it comes right down to it, maybe being a drummer in a rock ‘n’ roll band isn’t so great after all. Unless, of course, you don’t mind being hidden at the back of a stage, banging cymbals and pounding drums, while the singers and guitarists get the glory and recognition.
Tommy went public saying he “was starving for some attention.” He had onstage cries for recognition: setting his drums on fire, hanging from bungee cords. He had that all-too-famous video of his honeymoon with Pam Anderson. But Tommy only got to step out front-and-center when he formed his own band. Tommy has achieved the recognition he quested for. He’s now a singer/guitarist.
Tommy Lee and Andrew Carnegie on the same page! What they have in common is that the same lesson can be learned from each….
Through sheer savvy, Andrew Carnegie, a penniless immigrant, built Carnegie Steel, the core of what became U.S. Steel. In the process, he became the world’s richest man. Here are a few examples of how Carnegie harnessed everybody’s need for recognition and why he was “The Master Motivator.”
J. Edgar Thomson was the president of the Pennsylvania Railroad. To capture the railroad’s steel business, Carnegie went beyond the norm of wining and dining a potential customer. Instead, he employed a can’t-fail recognition strategy: Carnegie built a giant steel mill in Pittsburgh and christened it the “J. Edgar Thomson Steel Works.” From then on, the railroad’s steel business was Carnegie’s.
When Carnegie and George Pullman were engaged in a price war for control of the business of building train sleeper cars, Carnegie tried to convince Pullman that they should join forces. Pullman wasn’t persuaded. Then Pullman asked, “What would you call the new company?” “Why, Pullman’s Palace Car Company, of course,” Carnegie quickly replied. Carnegie’s recognition of the Pullman name clinched the merger.
When Royal Viking cruise ships sailed the seven seas, they were among the best of the best. As a cruise ship guest lecturer, I discovered some of Royal Viking’s behind-the-scene secrets. The cruise line was famous for its onboard awards ceremonies. Elderly passengers wearing jewels and sequins from a social swirl gone by accepted awards simply for being on their 30th or 40th or 50th Royal Viking cruise. Why did they take so many cruises?
The ship’s staff was coached to remember passenger names, to go out of their way, to listen, and then to listen some more. Single men in crested blazers earned free cruises by serving as “hosts” and schmoozing with passengers. Ship’s officers in their 30s invited women with clouds of blue hair to dance. Social hostesses knew to admire formal jewelry and gowns. For many, Royal Viking was selling something the passengers needed more than an ocean voyage—recognition.
Carnegie and Royal Viking both understood that people are highly motivated by recognition.
Tap into people’s need for recognition. People act in ways that will gain them recognition. Show the other person recognition—a pat on the back, encouragement, a special treat—and your beliefs may become his beliefs.
We live in a world where our conduct is influenced by two dynamics: the social norm “do the right thing” dynamic, and the “it’s business” economic dynamic. For most people it’s a difficult balance.
Sometimes, my tactic is to request a concession by casting my request as an opportunity for the other person to do the right thing; to not take advantage of a situation although it would be legal to do so.
Len, a mortgage lender, foreclosed on our client Helen’s house. At the foreclosure sale, title to the house changed from Helen to Len. Helen had made regular mortgage payments to Len for more than five years. But New Normal times were tough. As hard as she tried, she hadn’t be able to make any payments for about four months.
We asked Len if Helen could live in the house for six more weeks rent-free. This way, her 10-year-old son, Jake, could finish his school year. Len’s alternative was to opt for a speedy eviction.
I spoke to Len, who was one very tough businessman. The focus of my conversations with him was doing the socially right thing rather than Helen’s failure to make payments as promised in her loan agreement. Luckily, Len’s social conscious made it possible for Helen to stay in the house until the end of Jake’s semester.
AARP asked lawyers if they would give legal assistance to needy retirees at a fraction of their regular hourly rate. The response was no. But later, when AARP asked the lawyers to offer their services for free, their response was an overwhelming yes.
When money was a dynamic, the lawyers compared the highly discounted rate to their regular hourly billing rate. They weren’t prepared to take the hit. When volunteering, a social norm was the motivating dynamic. The lawyers’ decision was based not on money, but on what was “the right thing to do.”
Social norms are a source of self-definition: the type of person you are. The type of person you aspire to be. Social norms motivate acceptance of your concession requests when the other person is reminded that what he does defines his life values and who he is. Tap into the need to abide by social norms.
The evening news supplies information, but has little impact on public opinion. It doesn’t ask viewers to change what they think. Winning an argument is not merely about presenting information. It’s about persuasively leading others to your call for action.
Fill in this blank:
At the end of my argument, the thing I want to happen is ___________.
Your answer is your call for action.
“Isn’t it true that the only time you have ever really benefited from anything in your life has been when you said yes instead of no?—Motivational speaker Tom Hopkins’ “power close.”
Back in the neighborhood
Here’s how you, when speaking at the “no multiplex” neighborhood meeting, could persuasively play your hand:
Grab the audience’s attention: “We are at a crossroads, and I’m here to review some critical things I’ve discovered.”
Bond with the audience: “We all like going to movies, and we like the convenience of having theaters close by….”
Present your core argument: “If a multiplex theater is built, our neighborhood will surely suffer…,” and then present your three portable points.
End with your call for action: “As your friend, as a concerned mother, and as a neighbor, I urge you to call Councilwoman Smith. Write to Mayor Jones. Attend the planning and zoning commission meeting Thursday evening. Tell the commission you won’t tolerate a multiplex as your new neighbor.”
The call for action is made only after the speaker’s argument is presented. If she starts with her call, her logic may not be heard. When someone tells you a joke, do you sometimes listen with only half an ear? Are your thought processes busy mentally rehearsing a joke that you’ll share in return? So, too, we all instinctively prepare mental counterarguments the moment we know what the other fellow is arguing for.
The speaker’s call has two critical elements: a sense of immediacy, and a very specific request. A general call is flabby and weak. (“If you agree with me, do something about it!”) A winning call for action doesn’t pussyfoot around.
Ronald Reagan was invited to speak at the Berlin Wall to help commemorate the city’s 750th anniversary. He was cautioned not to make any Soviet-bashing, inflammatory statements about the Wall. Drafts of his speech were circulated to the State Department and the National Security Council for their review, and they were cautioned that any text too proactive would be an affront to Gorbachev. Their suggestion was for Reagan to say: “One day, this ugly wall will disappear.”
The president stood at the Berlin Wall on June 12, 1987, and declared to the world, “Mr. Gorbachev, tear down this wall!” There it was. No hopeful thinking. No euphemisms. A clear, unequivocal call for action.
Have you noticed that the new wave of advertising doesn’t pull any punches either…?
Advertisers have discreetly shielded consumers from what is really going on in the bathroom. Traditionally, they’ve called toilet paper “bathroom tissue,” a phrase never used by anyone outside of Madison Avenue. Kleenex is now using the w-word. They advertise that their Cottonelle toilet paper wipes better than ordinary toilet paper.
And advertisers have discreetly shied away from telling us what may be in our bottled water. O Premium Waters, a small Arizona-based bottled water company, has changed all of that. Its regional television spots show two outdoorsmen urinating in a mountain stream. O Premium Waters’ warning: “Do you know what’s in your bottled water? Not everything is on the label.”
That’s how a Texas judge cautions litigants about arguing for an unreasonable objective. Your call for action should give you a real shot of winning something of true benefit. Cast and limit your call to what’s realistically obtainable.
And now for a little nunsense to make my point….
Nun to Mother Superior: “Is it all right if I smoke while praying?”
Mother Superior (shocked): “Certainly not!”
Second Take
Nun to Mother Superior: “Is it all right if I pray while I’m smoking?”
Mother Superior: “Of course! It’s always good to pray.”
Let’s say you want a raise. You’re ready to meet with your boss and argue why you deserve more money. But wait a minute. Can you predict how your boss will probably respond? Is it likely she will respond, “I just don’t have the budget to give raises this year”? If that’s your prediction, what can you reasonably expect to gain by arguing for more money?
Now, ask yourself what is realistically obtainable: Do I have a chance to move into a different position within the company? Do I have a chance for more training? How about an overseas assignment?
Your call for action has to be clear and unequivocal. Your core argument states what you’re arguing for (for example, no new multiplex). Your call for action is what you want others to do (for example, vote no, or write to your representatives).
You’ve made your call for action. So far, no response? You’ll want to say something. But don’t. Whether you call it strategic patience, or watchful waiting, or disciplined inaction, or just being cool, quietly wait for the other guy to break the silence, and respond to you.
On the first night of a Baltic Sea cruise, my wife and I were assigned to a dining table with three other couples who were strangers to us. It was a friendly group. By the time dessert arrived, we knew where everybody was from, how many kids they had, and the kind of work they did.
Hugh, a rancher from Montana, asked about my persuasion and negotiation seminars. He then said, “Tell me your very best negotiating tip.”
“That would be hard to do,” I responded.
“I don’t have time to go to one of your seminars, but I’ll give you $20 cash, right here on the spot, if you spend two minutes telling me your very best piece of advice.”
I smiled at Hugh, but said nothing.
“Okay,” Hugh said. “Let’s make that $50.”
Hugh then slid two $20s and a $10 right alongside my cup of coffee. “No matter what you charge,” he said, “on a per-minute basis this may be the best fee you’ll ever get.”
Hugh was right. And I picked up his cash.
“Hugh, here it is, my best piece of negotiating advice: There’s magic in not opening your mouth.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Hugh, did you notice how you raised your ante from $20 to $50 without my ever having said a single, solitary word?”
“Certainly you can embellish the advice a little if you’re going to keep my $50.”
“Well, in addition to not opening your mouth, you could try a quick shoulder shrug or a fast wince. Either one would throw a little attitude into the mix.”
I now call the advice I gave Hugh “My $50 Tip.”
You made your call for action. There is never a need to break the silence by answering your own questions, or filling a lull in a conversation, or, in Hugh’s case, upping the ante by $30.
Return your mouth to its full upright position. Stop talking when you’ve made your call for action. You’ll have an urge to talk. It is easier to manage sound than silence. Do not repeat yourself. Do not resell. Do not rephrase.
We mistakenly believe that the more we say, the more we influence. But probably nothing you can say will improve the silence. By anxiously sweetening your proposal before there is a response, you’re only arguing against yourself.
If the response is a question, keep your answer short and to the point.
After telling the story about Hugh to a group of MBA students, one of them asked, “What do you mean by ‘attitude’?” Fortunately, her question followed on the heels of my college fraternity reunion. At our reunion banquet dinner, Jay K. got up to make “an announcement and a first-time confession.” Jay lived in Chicago, but he wanted to go to Cal Berkeley. His secret: He never applied for admission. Jay just signed up for classes, completed enrollment forms, and attended classes as if he were accepted. Jay graduated with us, his secret intact. We all asked Jay, “How did you pull it off?” Jay shrugged his head sheepishly. “Attitude,” he said. Jay’s “and why not?” attitude, his optimistic mind-set, was he could and would attend and graduate from Berkeley even if it meant sneaking in the back door.
People act and react in highly predictable ways as they quest to satisfy their subconscious and conscious emotional needs—emotional needs to take advantage of fleeting opportunity, to have what is hard to come by, to return favors with favors, to fulfill aspirations. To do what’s new and happening, to satisfy self-image, to be recognized by others for who we are and what we do.
Tendency action plays (TAPs) trigger and stimulate those emotional needs. Cinch consent by directing the other person to your desired outcome as a way of his satisfying the needs you’ve triggered.
With linkage and logic in place, it’s time to be specific about what it is you want the other person to do, think, or see. That is your argument’s call for action.