Patience Is a Virtue (Even When You Have to Grit Your Teeth)

To my surprise, I landed my most memorable sale a year and a half after I had made my initial presentation – and after writing my prospect off as a sales possibility. I sell an employee communication program in Illinois and Missouri. This particular experience occurred in St. Louis. After my initial presentation at an agricultural pesticides firm, Mr. Stearns, the president, said he’d get back to me. He did so almost a year later. Prior to this call, I had given up hope on selling to him and regarded this experience as yet another effort to add to my portfolio of learning experiences.

Upon my return visit, Mr. Stearns asked me to give my presentation to his management staff. My presentation went smoothly, perhaps too smoothly. After a handful of attempts to get the order, it became clear that the sale was not to be. Once again a polite but firm-minded company president suggested I get back to him in a couple of weeks.

A couple of weeks had gone by and I had just finished up my appointments in Kansas City; it was almost noon on a Friday. The drive to St. Louis on I-70 is a beeline run of about 275 miles. I could be there in about four hours without stops. After deliberating on the time factor, I called Mr. Stearns and asked if I could stop by to get his okay on the order form. He paused for just a moment, but then agreed to sign the order. I hit the road. My week had been a poor one up to this point. I hadn’t succeeded in mailing a single order to the home office. Suddenly my spirits climbed – now the week wouldn’t be a complete loss. Midway on my drive I stopped for gas, quickly guzzled two cups of lukewarm coffee and continued on.

By the time I approached the exit to the prospect’s location, the coffee was working overtime. On an empty stomach the caffeine was having a heyday with my nerves and my hands were cold and clammy on the steering wheel. The receptionist said that Mr. Stearns would see me shortly; I filled out the order form while waiting. I waited for 15 minutes; the receptionist said goodbye and left for the day. Soon the other office employees filed by. After I had waited another 20 minutes in the empty front office, Mr. Stearns appeared and asked me to come into his office.

We shook hands and after some small talk I placed the order form on his desk. Mr. Stearns began reviewing the form once again. This was the third time since he had thoroughly gone over the form on my two prior visits. Something told me this man was not going to sign! He looked up at me, paused, and said he’d decided against going with our program. It was at this point that I reminded him, as diplomatically as possible, about our phone conversation. I didn’t want to appear overly desperate, but I reminded him that I’d made a special effort to get to St. Louis from Kansas City in time to see him. Mr. Stearns looked as though he was struggling with the whole issue; here I gently stressed again the practical values of putting our communications program to work in his plant.

We went back and forth for 20 minutes. It was clear we were both beginning to run short on diplomacy. Finally he pleaded, “Respect me, please.” Not his decision, but to respect him! I’d gone too far, I’d crossed that invisible boundary line which suggests you can only push so far. That was when we got up and shook hands machine-like. This action was merely to confirm that the situation was still business-like and that we were gentlemen. Just before leaving, however, I kicked myself into thanking Mr. Stearns for his time, suggesting that perhaps sometime down the road he might reconsider and to please give me a call.

Back in my car, I tore up the order form and started home, another 150 miles to go. After thinking about the entire episode, the initial presentations then this final fiasco, I experienced a sense of being manhandled, pushed around. I’ve learned to dismiss rejections for the most part, but this one lingered for the next couple of days. “Respect me!”

Six months later my home phone recorder took a message: Mr. Stearns called to say he wanted my program as soon as possible! That week I visited his office and he immediately signed the order.

My curiosity was piqued and I asked him what changed his mind. He said that he had wanted the program all along, but I’d given up too easily. Of course I was confused. I remembered all too well the tense tug of war during our last meeting and his parting words, “Respect me, please,” still echoed in my head. A myriad of psychological rationales rushed through my brain. I settled on the possibility that he’d reflected on his past actions and felt he hadn’t quite lived up to his end of the bargain. I will never know for sure. We put the subject behind us and talked a few minutes about last Monday night’s football game. All’s well that ends well.

Lessons learned from this experience are plenty. Among them is patience, the need for near stone-like patience, the ability to wait half an hour, six months, or more. Perseverance is another lesson, an old lesson that bears constant replay. And last but not least is diplomacy. When you least want to offer it, when you would just as soon walk out in silent anger, a diplomatic gesture can, and often does, make the difference. Diplomacy, it’s a matter of respect.