SALES TALES
True Stories of How Great Sales Happen
CONOR KENNY
Published by OAK TREE PRESS, 19 Rutland Street, Cork, Ireland
www.oaktreepress.com / www.SuccessStore.com
© 2014 Conor Kenny
A catalogue record of this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN 978 1 78119 146 0 (Hardback)
ISBN 978 1 78119 147 7 (Paperback)
ISBN 978 1 78119 148 4 (ePub)
ISBN 978 1 78119 149 1 (Kindle)
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording or electronically without written permission of the publisher. Such written permission also must be obtained before any part of this publication is stored in a retrieval system of any nature. Requests for permission should be directed to Oak Tree Press, 19 Rutland Street, Cork, Ireland or info@oaktreepress.com.
INTRODUCTION
In the mid-1970s, I was a schoolboy. My Dad had spent most of his career dreaming of owning a boat, a boat that had character and could sail away on the River Shannon. Eventually, he made his dream come true which, with five schoolgoing children, was some feat.
The Saide R was built in the 1940s and was a beautiful, elegant, timber cruiser. Its portholes were solid brass and she cut quite a dash heading down the Grand Canal, before running free on the Shannon.
Just before joining Ireland’s longest river, we stopped at the last canal stop. Shannon Harbour was dominated by a derelict hotel, a relic of a bygone era of barges and trade. There wasn’t much happening that evening in this very sleepy village. Excited by a new stop, I asked Dad if there was a chip shop in Shannon Harbour. He laughed and said: “There are no chips in Shannon Harbour – but wouldn’t that be a great title for a book?”.
I always said that, if ever I wrote a book, I’d call it No Chips in Shannon Harbour. At least I got the title into the first few lines!
For the last 30 years, I have had some success and have made huge mistakes in selling. I have learnt by trial and error and, most of all, I have worked hard to understand what inspires a reaction and what makes people zone out. Sales Tales is based on my personal experiences and real encounters in pursuit of sales excellence.
Its purpose is to tell you some real-life stories that, I hope, you will relate to. It is not prescriptive and does not tell you what is right and what is wrong. On the contrary, it is descriptive and each story is underpinned by a powerful lesson that helped me the next time around.
My sales journey started when I was at university. I was a rather lazy student, who often thought I could ‘think’ my way to a fortune. I found academic theory difficult to translate into practice. It was interesting but I wasn’t always able to remember the complex analysis. To improve my own knowledge, I scoured bookshops for titles that I could understand. Of course, clever marketing people knew this and had their solution lying in wait.
I saw a book that promised to make my subject simple. It was a good book, a practical book and well-written too. It didn’t really make the complex and abstract subject simple but it did teach me a powerful sales lesson that launched a deeper desire to understand the art of selling.
The colours had grabbed my attention. It was bigger than its competitors and stood fatter and higher than its skinny peers. It was confident, loud and clear. But, most importantly, the title had already made its mark. It was a promise – and it worked.
In the early 1990s, I worked for a particularly kind Jewish family in London. Arnold, the family head, was wise, successful and wealthy.
I had made a costly mistake in my youthful eagerness to sell. I was to meet Arnold the next morning. I felt like a man in the condemned cell.
The next day, in his office, I was nervous and feared the worst.
But, in his soft voice, Arnold said: “Conor, good decisions come from wisdom; wisdom comes from experience; experience comes from bad decisions”.
That is how we learn – how we really learn. Sometimes, to believe the fire is hot, you need to get burnt. Sales Tales is based on my own occasional mis-steps into the fire. It is a book of real stories – sales stories that will teach you how to sell more. Here’s to ‘understanding’ the fine art of how to be a much better sales person and to making more sales.
Conor Kenny
March 2014
1: WHO ARE YOU?
Be yourself; everyone else is already taken.
Oscar Wilde
What are the skills that are fundamental to great sales?
There are many and, despite what many experts offer, there is no ultimate list or textbook to guide you. That would be too simplistic and would negate the complex web of skill required.
Of course, everything starts with our own inner self, our consciousness, who we are. It’s important to be who you are and to be happy with who you are. If not, we run the terrible risk of being controlled by our ego. Some sales people are driven by ego. When they are, they are doomed to an unhappy end.
But what is this thing called ego? It’s worth a little time to understand it. Here’s what Eckhart Tolle says in his book, A New Earth:
Vanity and pride are what most of us tend to think of when we think of ego, but ego is much more than an overinflated sense of self. It can also turn up in feelings of inferiority or self-hatred because ego is any image you have of yourself that gives you a sense of identity – and that identity derives from the things you tell yourself and the things other people have been saying about you that you’ve decided to accept as truth.
Understanding who you are is a critical step to understanding what you ought to do. To be simplistic about it, if you are not driven by ego and still curious about sales and perhaps the practicalities of a life selling, then the chances are that sales are for you.
And before you start, above all else, to thy own self be true.
Let me tell you about three men I met at different points in my career. Each taught me a precious lesson. Each is very different, though they share one thing in common: they do what they want to do – but that certainly was not always the case.
But before you read their stories, think on a provocative lesson my Dad told me not so long ago.
There’s No Such Thing as a Lazy Person
Ivor Kenny spent a lifetime working with managers. He is also a best-selling author and I’m lucky enough to call him Dad. One of his books – Can You Manage? – continues to teach and inspire many of our own students today. It’s a powerful read.
One day, we were to receive a master class in management from Ivor. Like every good workshop, one lesson stood out above all the other rich pickings.
Ivor said, “There is no such thing as a lazy person”. He paused and soaked up our incredulity.
“Yeah, right”, we said quietly.
I knew my Dad better. There would be more.
There was.
“They are either sick or in the wrong job.”
Instinctively, I disagreed. I could think of her, I could think of him, I could think of them. I thought a little longer. Like the light dawning, I began to see the absolutely obvious truth in Ivor’s simple statement.
I had been there. I had hated my job. I had done everything in my bewildered power to avoid the job, my boss, the company and the customer. If you met me, I was lethargic, dull and disinterested. There was no energy, bounce or enthusiasm. I just did not care.
My shocking performance meant I was summoned to a solemn meeting. I walked the narrow corridor to meet the three judges. I still did not care. I wanted them to try me, find me guilty and announce my execution. They didn’t. Instead, being good people, they tried to inspire me, motivate me and excite me.
They couldn’t. Leaving their office without my execution date was a fate worse than death.
It took me a while – but then I realised I was the problem. I was in the wrong job. It’s easy to see the symptoms, not so easy to see the cause. But, if, like I was, you’re in the wrong job, you cannot succeed.
A few years afterwards, I suggested to my dad that he add a word to his diagnosis. It now runs: “There’s no such thing as a lazy person. They are either sick, lost or in the wrong job”.
I know. I was lost once too.
The Three Wise Men
Sean
Sean was a really lovely chap. Considerate, quiet and gentle. Somehow, Sean got a job selling products that he should never have been selling. In fact, Sean was never cut out to be a salesman.
With a heavy heart, I was dispatched to end his miserable time with the company. We had always got on well. Sean had no idea that his end was near. We chatted and chatted and I couldn’t find the words to begin the deadly deed. Eventually, I brought the conversation around to interests and passions.
Sean lit up. Excitedly, Sean talked horticulture. He couldn’t speak fast enough. Passionate and deeply engrossed in his subject, Sean was oblivious to everything else – including questioning why we were meeting.
When the excitement ebbed, I asked Sean how he felt about where he worked.
“I just don’t like it”, he said instinctively.
I resisted the urge to probe more. Instead, I listened.
“You know, Conor, I think I’m in the wrong job. This is not my passion, not what I care about and not what I want.”
I continued to listen.
“Conor, I’ve always enjoyed working with you. You have been good to me but I think I need to look out for myself a little more.”
I nodded silently.
“This may be the wrong time, but it feels right. Conor, I’m so sorry, and I know you’ll understand no matter how inconvenient, but I need to go. I need to leave. I need to follow my dreams. This is not my dream.”
Sean left the next day. He never knew the executioner’s rope had been coiled under the desk. It was a very happy ending.
Almost a year to the day, I got a call from a very happy man. It was Sean. He had started his own horticulture business and it was thriving. Sean had found his way.
Clifford
Cliff was my boss in London. He was a small man who always wore finely-cut Savile Row suits. He was a true English gentleman: beautiful manners, patient, gentlemanly and always dapper. I admired him and learnt a lot from simply observing him. I was very fond of my dandy boss.
One day, out of the blue, Cliff told me he was leaving the company. I assumed he was off to bigger greener pastures. I asked him where he was going.
He replied, “To a castle in Scotland that’s in need of repair”.
I was utterly perplexed.
Seeing my confusion, Cliff went on to explain: “You see, Conor, I turned 50 last month. I had always promised myself two careers – two very different careers. For the last 30 years, I have sold desks. Now, I’m going to rebuild this small castle and run it with my wife as a Bed & Breakfast. You only live once, Conor, and I’d rather have two careers than one”.
It took me 20 years to ‘get it’ – but I did.
Gerry
Gerry was an ordinary guy. Ordinary-looking, ordinary at school. A nice guy but ordinary.
Gerry sat near me in mathematics class. Not my forte then and definitely not Gerry’s. The teacher knew this but, because he seemed to like me, I was not the target of his verbal missiles – at least not too often.
This particular day, Gerry was caught unprepared for a difficult question on theorems. He walked to the front of the class to explain something he didn’t know. An eternity later, humiliated, he walked slowly back to his seat, blushing an unhealthy shade of red. The teacher finished the onslaught by telling Gerry there was no point in him finishing school, since he would be lucky if he even made a meagre living as a tradesman.
Years later, as a frustrated law student who revelled in the theatre of the court room and persuasion, I used to dodge lectures in pursuit of court room drama. I’d hop on the bus and enter the Four Courts, enquiring excitedly as to what trial was where. Naturally, the bigger the offence, the more I wanted to watch.
It was a particularly nasty crime. It had murder and it had mystery. It was intriguing and the nation was watching. It was as high profile as they come. I sat watching the dramatic final moments and I marvelled at the oratory and the persuasion. For me, it was an open and shut case. The closing speech by the incredibly able, sharp and eloquent lawyer turned everyone’s thinking, including the jury’s. He saw things we didn’t see. He created doubt where there was none and he was reasonable to a fault. He won his case. I was transfixed at the skill, the strategy and the power of his well-crafted words. It had been an interesting day.
Shortly after, I was in the main hall. A swift slap on my shoulder spun me around into the wig-wearing man in the trailing black gown. It was none other than my old school friend, Gerry.
Gerry, who had just won his case. Gerry, who I hadn’t recognised because of his wig and gown. I was astonished but I was also delighted. Gerry had become one of the most successful barristers in the country.
We went for a quick coffee. I reflected on that awful day in school but resolved not to mention it. I didn’t need to; he did: “Not bad for a young chap who was told to quit school and become a plumber, eh, Conor?”.
Not bad, not bad at all.
2: YOU CAN DO ANYTHING YOU WANT
It is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves.
William Shakespeare
It’s a funny thing but, more often than not, people will avoid telling you they are in sales. They might be ambassadors, representatives, executives or ‘in marketing’. It’s as if ‘sales’ is a slightly tarnished word. It’s not, nor should it ever be seen that way.
There is no service, no profession, no industry and no business that does not require sales, salesmanship and a sales strategy. Sales is a function that belongs to everyone, though it is one that many people shy away from. It is at the very core of strategy, every vision and every plan. It’s a skill. And, when you see how common ‘average’ is, you can build a fantastic career by being in sales.
There’s a huge difference between:
The first often comes from a belief that our paths need to be sequential. In other words, because you’ve been in the automobile industry, you must stay in the automobile industry. That’s a trap that exists only in your own mind.
The second is frequently the inheritance or legacy from an overpowering parent or guardian. It’s their vision for you and, in some cases, might reflect a second surrogate shot at the career they never had.
It’s a dangerous path that often leads to failure.
The third is the only true option. What you want to do is pure, about you and your natural direction. If you listen to the inner instincts and let your compass guide you, you will succeed and prosper. Sales is not for everyone and it is a mistake to waste your time on undesirable pursuits.
As a student of philosophy and an avid reader of psychology, I am deeply interested in why we do what we do and the choices we make. From a very young age, I questioned everything. I had a deep desire to understand, not just know. I often questioned what I did and why I did it. Did I like it? Love it? Or did I just end up there? I was never too sure. This curiosity led me to an early career in selling, where that curiosity is essential.
One day, some deep reading led me to a very simple understanding, inspired by Eckhart Tolle, author of The Power of Now. Put simply (even simplistically), ‘your story’ is not ‘who you are’. It’s not easy to grasp at first but let me tell you why this is relevant.
We often believe our story or, if you like, our journey to here means we have to continue on. We don’t. Your journey is your story but your journey is not who you are.
Before you go any further in a sales career, bear this in mind: your previous career does not mean it is your future path – you can change it. You can change it any time. You can change it many times. I know, I did.
What matters is that you are who you are, that you follow your innate passion – then success will follow. The story got you to here, to now, but that’s all. From here on, you have choices. You are here but that does not mean you must stay here. If you do, and especially if you don’t really want to, that’s sequential thinking.
Sequential Thinking
I was caught in a trap. I had been living in London for the past nine years and I hated it. I couldn’t see a way out. “I have a mortgage, a car, a job. I have bills, I have direct debits and I’m a member of this and that”. My head resembled a tumble-dryer. I was lost and trapped by my own thinking.
By chance, I ended up having dinner with Ray Curran, a man who excelled in business and life. It was a sultry summer evening and we sat on the veranda overlooking the elegant River Thames at Sonning. It was one of those catch-up kind of chats.