Larry Bird in college
One hot summer day in July of 1978, I flew into Terre Haute, Indiana. I must confess that Terra Haute had a peculiar oder. The airport was full of larger-than-life photos of their hometown hero, Larry Bird, who grew up down the road in French Lick. I rented a car, got directions and began my drive to Columbia House Records. I was about ten weeks into my new job as an Education Specialist for Advanced Systems, Inc., a company that provided video training for tech people of all stripes.
As an Education Specialist, I saw existing customers to help them decide what videos best suited their educational needs and ultimately, renew their contracts with the company; so my job was sales support and renewal. The contact person at Columbia House had not been seen by anyone from ASI in a LONG time.
This was the plant where records were produced. The lobby was small and had gold records and photos of their bigs stars like Barbra Streisand on the walls, but not much else in terms of decor. The chairs were plastic and not comfortable. Vendors probably did not spend much time there. I introduced myself to the receptionist and asked to see Roy Chitwood. I was told to take a seat and wait. And wait. And wait.
I was taught in my recent sales training class that the rule of thumb was to wait 10 minutes, then be on my way and make a new appointment, but I had traveled in from out-of-town and it became increasingly clear that Roy wanted to make a statement about his anger with my company. So I patiently waited. A half hour slipped by before he came out to greet me and usher me into his office. He had blond, curly hair, a thick mustache and wire-frame glasses. I sat politely as he vented his anger. He had bought a big (now obsolete) contract from us years ago, then not heard from anyone from the company until I called to set up our appointment. He let me have it. I heard him out.
“The customer is always right”. Another sales aphorism; more or less true (at least you try to appease the customer). I apologized. I told him that I would try to do better. We talked about ways to use what he had and swap out what was no longer useful (ASI had this problem with many of its older customer base and had devised a method to help). We got into a discussion about what was wrong with “the world”, “kids” (I was in my mid-20s but carried myself well), customer support and follow-through.
Then I broke another hard and fast sales rule: never talk about religion or politics (remember – this was a long time ago when the world was a kinder, gentler place, much less divided than it is today). I said, “those who don’t remember history are doomed to repeat it”. The point I tried to make was about the lack of education or appreciation for the history of what came before us – a point that seems increasingly relevant today. And to back up my claim, I told him how the battle for control of Jerusalem was won by Moshe Dayan in the 1967 War because he went back to the Bible and discovered an ancient text that described a forgotten path that gave him access to the old city (I no longer remember all the details, but something to that effect). This provided him the element of surprise and he won the battle.
Roy, a devout Baptist, loved this story. He probed a bit more, asking if I’d ever been to the Holy Land. I had been there to visit my brother, studying to become a rabbi, only a few years earlier. He became quite animated, invited me back if I’d bring photos from my trip. I promised I would if he would promise me the contract renewal. We agreed to our deal and each kept our bargain. I left out the photos of 19-year-old me in my little bikini at the Dead Sea.
At Masada, 1972
I thought about all of this because I recently heard a talk by Dr Kimberly Manning, a doctor at a hospital in Atlanta, GA and teacher at Emory who spoke about the human connection and how important it is. In her training, she learned (and teaches to her students), the importance of learning everyone’s names, saying “please” and “thank you”, just sitting with patients, learning from them, listening to them, being PRESENT.
In our hurried world, full of social media, with so little human contact, that made a big impact on me. Really listening to each other. She said she has a podcast and posts on Twitter a lot (I can’t call it X, that is ridiculous), even if is just to say that she has spoken at a conference. And she, in her 25+ years as a practicing physician, has witnessed a coarsening of the conversation. Now people don’t hide their identity when they come after her on Twitter, denigrating her, calling her names, no longer lurking in the shadows. They think it is OK to verbally abuse her good work because of who she is. She is an African-American, proud that she is a product of two HBCUs, who then did her internship and residency at Case Western Reserve in Cleveland, and for the first time in her life, learned how it felt to be a minority in the room. She observes people, defines herself as a “story-teller” (as I do of myself). She is not afraid to cry as she tells these stories. Her work is with the indigent and dying in Atlanta, and often has to leave their room to have a good cry. She tells her students it is OK to do just that. She weaves her own narrative into her clinical practice to prove her points.
I had to sit in a waiting room, doing penance to appease the anger of my customer 46 years ago, but I gladly heard him out and was rewarded for the effort. I listened to him and he listened to me. Are we no longer capable of listening to one another? Is this what we have become? Dr. Manning told us she awakens each morning with an affirmation, being thankful to open her eyes and start a new day. So perhaps, rather than dwelling on the chaos and hate, I need to learn from her and do the same.
Betsy PfauRetired from software sales long ago, two grown children. Theater major in college. Singer still, arts lover, involved in art museums locally (Greater Boston area). Originally from Detroit area.
I too felt your discomfort.
Thank you, Kevin. But hopefully, you also felt the triumph of the internal story. Because I waited, listened and heard Roy out, we resolved his issues amicably, so in this case, my time in the waiting room was worth it. These days, I do despair that so many do not listen to those with opposing views, but merely spew venom at “the other”, thanks in large part due to the vocabulary coming from opposition these days. The suspicion and distrust might have always been there, but now it is OK to say these horrible things out loud.
Thanx Betsy for your story and your lessons learned after that long waiting room wait, and the wise advice you heard from Dr Manning.
Indeed we all should try not to dwell on the chaos but learn a better way to get through what life throws at us.
Glad you liked my story, though it wasn’t exactly what the prompt called for, Dana. Now if we can only learn to follow Dr. Manning’s wise advice!
This was a great story and it makes a really important point about how to cultivate a relationship and develop mutual respect, even in a business situation or relatively superficial environment.
I have to admit, I could only fully enjoy and embrace the story after I realized you didn’t meet Bobby Plump, the great shooter who led Milan High school (from that same region of my home state of Indiana) to a state championship in the early 1950s. See, when they created the fictionalized story, “Hoosiers,” as a movie, they changed Bobby’s name to Jimmy Chitwood! In my mind I mixed up the real name with the fictional, and I embarked on the narrative, imagining that–this being a basketball story, according to the feature photo–I would gain insight into this iconic man through your professional experience. Oh, well. I got over it and really appreciated the details of your story. It makes a very convincing case for finding ways to be authentic in one’s everyday interactions.
Thank you Dale, for seeing past the few place-setting details and embracing the true nature of this story. Not about basketball at all. That is just a detail of the airport location at that period. I took a big risk by bringing up the story of the Six Day War, but I was trying to prove a point and I obviously struck a nerve. One could never get away with that in today’s environment, more’s the pity. We are way too polarized.
Actually, I think it usually works to bring up an honest and personal reference to make an authentic connection. Your story motivates me to try even harder to do that in day to day interactions. To diminish the polarization.
“Authentic connection”. Those words are the key to so much in life. You’ve said a mouthful, Dale. I’m so happy to learn that my story has caused some good.
Betsy, I’m glad you took a different approach to this prompt. Your story of sitting in the waiting room for half an hour to speak to a business client was a powerful one. No wonder you were so successful at your job! When he finally called you in, you let him vent, and never once complained about being kept waiting so long. I love your story about Moshe Dayan, although it wasn’t clear to me how it pertained, but the important thing was that Roy loved the story. And you turned it into an agreement to renew the contract. Brava!
Thank you, Suzy. Being a good and sympathetic listener is certainly an important part of the sales process.
The reason for the Moshe Dayan story was that he found his successful path by learning through “history”, in this case, something documented in the Bible (no, I do believe that the Bible contains facts, far from it), but Dayan gleaned valuable information about a long-forgotten path into the Old City which gave him the element of surprise and ultimately the winning strategy.
We all need to be wise enough to learn and value what came before (or perhaps reject and do better next time).
Loved your story. Especially your unique take on ‘waiting rooms’. Can you imagine Trump in a waiting room? haha!
Thank you, Carol. No, I can’t imagine TFG having the patience to wait for anything!
I think you have written about a very important and sadly missing skill in today’s world — listening to one another. You were very wise back in 1978 and were rewarded for it. I hate to blame everything on MAGA, but we have certainly lost the ability to listen. So sad.
I don’t think we can blame it entirely on MAGA, Laurie. I think some of the blame must go to social media, gaming and the like (maybe the increase of computers instead of face-to-face communication). But yes, listening skills have been greatly diminished over the past 40-50 years it would seem.
Thanks for your story—you have such good ones to share. Listening is a lesson it seems we can never learn well enough. You have clearly paid attention to that lesson.
Thank you, Khati. After 8 years of writing weekly, now I’ve decided to only write when a prompt really inspires me. I’d like to think in this case I did have something to offer and it seems, based on the feedback I’ve gotten, others agree. Listening is SO important. It cannot be stressed enough.