It's Not Luck - Eliyahu M. Goldratt [73]
“How many times have you tried it?” I ask.
“Five.”
“And?”
“And we have five nice contracts. But that’s not the point. I can’t be the only salesperson in my company. And I can’t push them anymore.”
“Wait,” I say. “Let me think.”
After a minute of silence, I ask, “Pete, did you find the idea hard to sell?”
“No, not at all. That’s what baffles me.”
“Did you tell your people exactly how you do it?”
“Of course I did. I even wrote the whole procedure down. They swear that they have followed my instructions to the dot. I don’t know what’s going on.”
It’s a long time since I’ve heard Pete sound so desperate. They must have hit him badly in the sales meeting. “So your people are claiming that you devised an offer that only you can sell?”
“Correct.”
“That you are a super salesman, but a company’s offer should be good enough to be sold by mere mortals?”
“That’s what they claim, word for word. Alex, almost half of their compensation is based on commissions. I must do something, and fast.”
“Pete, stay cool,” I try to calm him down. “Since we both know that you are not a super salesman, it must be that the offer is good, and salable.”
He laughs nervously, “That’s what I was trying to tell them. But they won’t listen. Not anymore that is.”
“If there is one thing I have learned in my life,” I tell him, “it’s that in reality there are no contradictions. There is always a simple explanation, and the only simple explanation I can see is that in spite of what your people are telling you, they aren’t presenting it the same way you are. They must be deviating in some way, and their deviations are fatal.”
“Makes sense,” Pete replies, “but probably I’m too close to the situation. Last time I went with my VP of sales to a meeting, I swore to myself that I would not open my mouth, I would just observe. After three minutes, I took over. We got a sale, but my VP of sales became even more disenchanted. That is probably when I lost him. Listen, Alex, what I really want from you is that you’ll send Don to help me.”
“What do you mean?” I am not entirely surprised.
“I want him to accompany my salespeople on some sales calls. He is not as emotional as I am about the offer; he won’t have any problem watching them butcher the sale without interfering. At the same time, he knows the logic of our offer inside and out. Maybe he can put his finger on what they are doing wrong.”
I think about it. Pete is right, but I need Don to work with me. No, there is nothing more important than guaranteeing that Pete’s solution does work. My whole plan is dependent on Pete demonstrating that such a marketing solution can quickly turn around a company. It is essential for the entire group’s survival.
“When do you need him?” I ask.
“The sooner the better. Starting tomorrow would be ideal.”
“Let me see what I can do. I’ll call you back.”
I went directly to Don’s office.
“Dad?” Dave interrupts my gloomy thoughts. “Can I ask your advice?”
I can’t believe my ears. When is the last time Dave carne to me for advice? I can’t even remember.
“Of course.” I turn the TV off and look at him. He seems normal. “Have a seat,” I say.
“I prefer to stand.”
I wait, but he doesn’t say a word. He just shifts his weight from one foot to the other.
“Carry on,” I encourage him. “What’s your problem?” “It’s not really a problem.” He looks uncomfortable. “It’s more . . . like, a situation.”
“A situation that you don’t know exactly how to handle?”
“Yeah, sort of.”
“You’ve come to the right person,” I assure him. “I’m the expert of sticking myself into unpleasant situations.”
“You?” Dave is surprised.
I just smile. Let my kids hold on to their illusions about their father. “Tell me about it.” I decide to take a businesslike approach.
That makes him more comfortable. “You know Herbie,” he starts.
I nod my head. Of course I know Herbie.