If The Lady Feels Insulted, It’s An Insult; I Think

All I had learned, held sacred, went flying out the window when talking with the Judge’s wife.

I never did well academically. Couldn’t give a shit.

That may be why I was so proud of myself when I got the Most Likely To Succeed award in the Ronson & Co sales training class graduation.

It was the initial academic accolade that I ever came close to winning. In a rare bit of introspection, I realized it was the first subject I really cared about learning.

I viewed our 13-week sales training class as graduate school in the University of Life, and the guy who ran it as our professor.

He referred to himself as our sales trainer.

I think trainer is undignified — makes us, his charges, sound like the animals in a zoo.

There are certain foundational elements in being a good salesman. These were explained (taught) to us by our professor during the 13-week sales course.

One of the cornerstones of this foundation was to make your prospect feel comfortable talking to you. One of the ways in which you did this was to start greeting your prospect by his/her first name as soon as possible.

Going back as far as Dale Carnegie, a prospect’s name is an important component of any sales situation. The sooner you get on a first-name basis with your potential client, the better. According to our professor and Selling Power Coaching Strategies:

When a prospect hears his name, it’s like music to his ears. In fact, speaking a client’s name out loud is an easy technique which can have a remarkable effect on increasing your sales right away.

As a future financial planner and Most Likely To Succeed Ronson & Co.circa 1975, I incorporated all these lessons into practice as best I could.

I wanted to be rich.

In the first month of plying my trade, I was given a lead that came from one of Ronson & Co.’s purchased lists of supposedly qualified prospects who needed financial planning.

I did a double-take when I read the name on the card: The Honorable James Cockburn. His phone number and address were included.

This guy wants a financial plan? I’ve actually heard of him. Read about some of his decisions in the paper. Judge Cockburn was semi-famous. Boy, if I landed this account…

The night of the appointment, I had trouble finding the Judge’s house. I drove around the exclusive neighborhood of Chestnut Hill. The place was configured like a Chinese Finger Puzzle. Even a modern-day GPS would be as lost as last year's Easter Egg.

The driveway was big enough to have a toll booth.

I was only 10 minutes late when the Judge met me at the door. He cheerfully ushered me into his spacious house.

Judge Cockburn lead me into the library where we joined his gracious wife.

He introduced us ; “Mr. Barrabee, please meet Mrs. Cockburn.”

I shook her hand as properly as possible. Remembering my sales training said, “Please — -call me Brian.”

The 3 of us sat in the library and proceeded to get down to work.

Although it went against my sales lessons, I called Judge Cockburn — just that.

What am I going to do? Call him Jimmy? It just didn’t feel right.

His wife, however, was a different matter. I knew her first name was Hildegard from the lead card. I fell into calling her by her first name early on in the appointment. Everything seemed to be going very well. We were establishing a comfortable bond, I sensed.

Around midway through the appointment Hildy, Hildegard, Mrs. Cockburn, Mrs. Judge jumped up from her chair and accused me of respecting her husband and disrespecting her.

“I’m fed up. Just fed up!” she howled. “I get no respect around here, my own home.” You, you pompous ass”, referring to her husband. “You sit there like a self satisfied Budda and let this salesman come in here and act like he’s known me for years. I’VE NEVER SEEN HIM BEFORE IN MY LIFE!”

No way the Judge had any desire to preside over this case.

While the aforementioned Mrs ________ fill in the blank continued to harangue, I proceeded to stuff prospectuses and sales information into my briefcase. I hoped to make an orderly departure.

As I was walking to the door, I thought I saw the Judge, his back to his wife, give me the thumbs-up as a sign of compassion.

Then again— maybe he was just goosing a fly!