Let’s wrap up the story of my scruffy old boat and missed opportunities related to it. Will they continue to be missed? Will I ever hear from them again?
Look for signals, ask questions
The question to ask yourself is when somebody sends us a signal that they are interested in what we do, what happens? Sure, the context matters. It isn’t as if I would have wanted a 40 minute tour of the facility, or to get a 20 minute call from the owner.
Still, it’s September in Montana. Winter is right around the corner, at least from the boat’s perspective. There was no comment about whether they offer winterization or winter boat storage. Who knows?
There was also no “here’s a list of the other services we offer that are useful to owners of older boats”, “So, do you own any other boats?”, or even “Got any other boating questions?” Remember, I told them that I just bought it, yet there was no “Dude, is his your first boat? If so, here’s our handy booklet of all the stuff someone should know (and what parts we’re happy to help with)”
None of that.
You might think that somebody who brings a 32 year old boat in for service doesn’t deserve those questions because they’ve already sent a signal that if they’re going to buy a $300 boat, they’re probably not going to buy a $40,000 boat (much less a $400,000 boat).
But you’d be wrong and I have receipts.
See, this place also sells campers. I happen to be in the market for one, but they don’t know that because they didn’t ask. But that isn’t why you’d be wrong.
Treat all of them like buyers
Back in the mid ’80s, I was fresh out of college, working my first job in the big city, and money was super tight. Of course, this means I visited Forest Lane Porsche in Dallas one Saturday afternoon. An older sales guy walks over to greet me as I step out of my 1980 fire engine orange Buick Century.
He didn’t look at me like “Crud, another one of those guys.” He didn’t make a snide remark. He treated me like I was getting ready to buy the most expensive car on the lot. At the time, it struck me that he treated me like he thought he was going to sell me a car that day.
So after we talked a little bit about the cars and I told him that I was a fan of the cars and was burning a little time on a Saturday afternoon. He said, “That’s cool. I’ll be here when you come back.”
THAT caught my attention. Normally when a wet behind the ears 23 year old admits to a salesperson that they wasted their time, that isn’t the kind of response you get. Maybe the kind ones will say nothing, turn on their heel and head back into the building until an actual buyer shows up.
So I asked him why. “Look, I pulled up in the parking lot in this ridiculous orange Buick. I’m young. You know I’m not buying a Porsche today or even next week. Why did you just say what you said?”
And he gave me the sales lesson of all time: “I treat everybody that comes on this lot like they’re gonna buy the most expensive car on a lot because I have no way to know that they’re not.”
Knowing I had another question coming, he continued: “I learned this lesson by accidentally being nice to a guy who came onto the lot in an old beat up pickup truck. He stepped out of that truck in muddy galoshes and overalls. He looked like he’d been working the fields all day. That guy wrote me a check for six figures for a car that day – the first time I met him. I didn’t take anybody for granted after that. Everyone who visits this lot looks like a customer to me.”
A couple of years later, there was a story in the paper about that guy, who was retiring from the dealership. It turned out he’d been their most prolific salesperson for years. Not at all surprising.
Imagine if your team did the same. You might sell a camper or something.
Mark Riffey is an investor and advisor to small business owners. Want to learn more about Mark or ask him to write about a strategic, operations or marketing problem? See Mark’s site, contact him on LinkedIn or Twitter,or email him at firstname.lastname@example.org.