My father was a semiconductor salesperson long before semiconductors were a “thing”—back when Santa Clara, California was known more for fruit orchards than semiconductor fabs. His profession made an already odd upbringing all the stranger: a youth inundated with negotiation training. In my childhood home, the commandment “thou shalt not leave money on the table” was right up there with “thou shalt not steal.” Growing up, my father would make me negotiate for things with him and then break down where I’d gotten the deal wrong—this could be for a piece of candy, or gas money later on for the car. Although he wouldn’t classify himself as such, he was a behaviorist—reading the client was every bit as important as knowing the features of the product you were selling. Dad taught sales by example, and he wasn’t always that great an explainer. As a kid, some of his sales lessons were downright mystifying. When you’re eight years old it is not entirely clear why leaving money on a table is a bad thing. Who’s table? What money? In second grade you nod and think twice before you pile loose change on the desk in your room. Sometimes I didn’t figure out these zen koan-like pronouncements until long after he was gone and I was a salesperson myself.
Which is why there was this one time I had to re-learn my father’s lesson of “watch their wallet.” A renewed understanding of that phrase was all the more shocking because I thought I knew what it meant from the first time he said it. Dad’s basic lesson went like this: in any good negotiation, it is going to get uncomfortable. The give and take of both sides will always lead to tension which can lead to a breakdown and the parties walking away from the table — getting everyone back together after a failure is more difficult than keeping everyone there and pushing through the difficulty. The key is knowing how hard you can sell at that moment, and the way to know how hard to sell is to watch their wallet. Now, imagine you are in the sixth grade and are getting this lesson at home over dinner. It seemed to me at the time that this was a straightforward example: if I’m watching the customer’s wallet and he takes it out, I’m going to get paid. If the customer keeps the wallet away, then we still have some work to do. All I have to do is watch their wallet to figure out how we’re doing. Simple right?
Not so fast. Years later I was in a seminar, learning from a great negotiator, Jack Kaine. Not only did he negotiate well, but he explained things in a way that put context and meaning around so much of my viscerally learned sales skills. One of the things he said finally explained the seemingly obvious “watch their wallet” in a way that made me see it completely differently. The way Jack taught it, the hard selling moment of a negotiation could be navigated by watching the other party’s feet. Unlike my father, he went on to explain what “watch their feet” meant. If the client is saying “no” and they feet are pointed towards you (i.e., toes first), keep negotiating. If they are saying “no” and their feet are pointed away (i.e., you can see their heels) then they are physically leaving and the negotiation is over. The point being: “no” can mean “I’m still willing to talk” if the customer remains facing you. The moment I understood this, my memory flashed to my father’s leather billfold in his back right pocket. He hadn’t been talking about taking a wallet out at all (a fact I would have understood if I had listened carefully). Instead, he was describing the view of a wallet-filled back pocket as the client walks away–the customer’s feet were pointed in the other direction. I had never really grasped why my father seemed disappointed when I described how I conducted negotiations. He would ask, “Did you see their wallet?” and when I would say “yes” to prove that I had closed the deal, he always seemed deflated. I believe my father thought he was being completely obvious; his wallet was a throwback to a time when men carried epic leather tri-folds crammed with real pictures and credit cards. His wallet was huge; you couldn’t help but notice it walking away if he turned his back on you.
However, I had missed it. In a greater sense, I was watching the wallet and not the direction it was taking. I missed the whole point. I wonder, how many answers I think I know but am actually misunderstanding them at a basic level? Alternatively, in assuming an answer as “obvious” am I failing to check my comprehension? What vital things might I miss with this attitude? I could have asked my father what he meant at any time but didn’t because my ego told me I already knew the answer. An inflated sense of mastery makes for a lousy student and a really inept salesperson. Learning is, in fact, a lot like a good negotiation: a basic requirement of the “hard sell” is the humility to constantly test for understanding. Which is counterintuitive to how we all think how “closing the deal” is done. Keeping the customer engaged, facing us, talking, learning–there is a certain joy in the process.
These day I am no longer looking for wallets back there, instead it is a smartphone and it doesn’t even need to be in a back pocket to show me the customer has lost interest. If I can keep the phone from coming out, staying humble with a lot of “little asks”, I can work my way to the big ask.