6 The Safety Valve in Handling Complaints

Most people trying to win others to their way of thinking do too much talking. Let the other people talk themselves out. They know more about their business and problems than you do. So ask them questions. Let them tell you a few things.

If you disagree with them you may be tempted to interrupt. But don’t. It is dangerous. They won’t pay attention to you while they still have a lot of ideas of their own crying for expression. So listen patiently and with an open mind. Be sincere about it. Encourage them to express their ideas fully.

Does this policy pay in business? Let’s see. Here is the story of a sales representative who was forced to try it.

Years ago, one of the largest automobile manufacturers in the United States was negotiating for a year’s requirement of upholstery fabrics. Three important manufacturers had worked up fabrics in sample bodies. These had all been inspected by the executives of the motor company, and notice had been sent to each manufacturer saying that, on a certain day, a representative from each supplier would be given an opportunity to make a final plea for the contract.

G.B.R., a representative of one manufacturer, arrived in town with a severe attack of laryngitis. “When it came my turn to meet the executives in conference,” Mr. R—— said as he related the story before one of my classes, “I had lost my voice. I could hardly whisper. I was ushered into a room and found myself face-to-face with the textile engineer, the purchasing agent, the director of sales, and the president of the company. I stood up and made a valiant effort to speak, but I couldn’t do anything more than squeak.

“They were all seated around a table, so I wrote on a pad of paper: ‘Gentlemen, I have lost my voice. I am speechless.’

“ ‘I’ll do the talking for you,’ the president said. He did. He exhibited my samples and praised their good points. A lively discussion arose about the merits of my goods. And the president, since he was talking for me, took the position I would have had during the discussion. My sole participation consisted of smiles, nods, and a few gestures.

“As a result of this unique conference, I was awarded the contract, which called for over half a million yards of upholstery fabrics at an aggregate value of $1,600,000—the biggest order I had ever received.

“I know I would have lost the contract if I hadn’t lost my voice, because I had the wrong idea about the whole proposition. I discovered, quite by accident, how richly it sometimes pays to let the other person do the talking.”

Joseph S. Webb of the Philadelphia Electric Company made the same discovery. Back in the day, electricity was relatively new and somewhat of a luxury in rural areas. Mr. Webb was making a rural inspection trip through a district of prosperous Pennsylvania Dutch farmers.

“Why aren’t those people using electricity?” he asked the district representative as they passed a well-kept farmhouse.

“Forget about them. You can’t sell them anything,” the district man answered in disgust. “And, besides, they’re sore at the company. I’ve tried. It’s hopeless.”

Maybe it was, but Webb decided to try anyway, so he knocked at the farmhouse door. The door opened a narrow crack, and old Mrs. Druckenbrod peered out.

“As soon as she saw the company representative,” said Mr. Webb, as he related the story, “she slammed the door in our faces. I knocked again, and again she opened the door; and this time she began to tell us what she thought of us and our company.

“Now I love farm eggs, and seeing her chickens in the yard it occurred to me that my wife would be pleased if I brought home some fresh eggs. So I said, ‘Mrs. Druckenbrod, I know you’re not interested in buying electrical service from us and I’m sorry I’ve troubled you. I merely want to buy some eggs.’

“She opened the door wider and peered out at us suspiciously.

“ ‘I noticed your fine flock of Dominicks,’ I continued, ‘and I should like to buy a dozen fresh eggs.’

“The door opened a little wider. ‘How’d you know my hens were Dominicks?’ she inquired, her curiosity piqued.

“ ‘I raise chickens myself,’ I replied. ‘And I must say, I’ve never seen a finer flock of Dominicks.’

“ ‘Why don’t you use your own eggs then?’ she demanded, still somewhat suspicious.

“ ‘Because my Leghorns lay white eggs. And naturally, being a cook yourself, you know white eggs can’t compare to brown eggs when it comes to making a cake. And my wife prides herself on her cakes.’

“By this time, Mrs. Druckenbrod had ventured out onto the porch in a much more amiable frame of mind. Meantime, my eyes had been wandering around and I discovered that the farm was equipped with a fine-looking dairy.

“ ‘As a matter of fact, Mrs. Druckenbrod,’ I continued, ‘I’ll bet you make more money from your hens than your husband makes with his dairy.’

“Bang! She was off! Sure she did! And she loved telling me about it. But, alas, she couldn’t make her old husband, the blockhead, admit it.

“She invited us down to see her poultry house; and on our tour of inspection I noticed various little contraptions that she had built, and I was ‘hearty in my approbation and lavish in my praise.’ I recommended certain feeds and certain temperatures; and asked her advice on several points; and soon we were having a good old time swapping experiences.

“Presently, she remarked that some of her neighbors had put electric lights in their hen houses and they claimed they had got excellent results. She wanted my honest opinion as to whether or not it would pay for her to do the same thing….

“Two weeks later, Mrs. Druckenbrod’s Dominick hens were clucking and scratching contentedly in the encouraging glow of electric lights. I had my order; she was getting more eggs; everyone was satisfied; everyone had gained.

“But—and this is the point of the story—I should never have sold electricity to this Pennsylvania Dutch farmwife if I had not first let her talk herself into it!

“People can’t be ‘sold.’ You have to let them buy.”

Letting the other person do the talking helps in family situations as well as in business. Barbara Wilson’s relationship with her daughter, Laurie, was deteriorating rapidly. Laurie, who had been a quiet, complacent child, had grown into an uncooperative, sometimes belligerent teenager. Mrs. Wilson lectured her, threatened her, and punished her, but all to no avail. “One day,” Mrs. Wilson told one of my classes, “I just gave up. Laurie had disobeyed me and had left the house to visit her girlfriend before she had completed her chores. When she returned, I was about to scream at her for the ten thousandth time, but the strength was gone. I just looked at her and said sadly, ‘Why, Laurie, why?’

“Laurie noted my condition and in a calm voice asked, ‘Do you really want to know?’ I nodded and Laurie told me, first hesitantly, and then it all flowed out. I had never listened to her. I was always telling her to do this or that. When she wanted to tell me her thoughts, feelings, ideas, I interrupted with more orders. I thought finger-wagging and ultimatums would do the trick. I began to realize that she needed me—not as a bossy mother, but as a confidante, an outlet for all her confusion about growing up. And all I had been doing was talking when I should have been listening. I never heard her.

“From that time on I let her do all the talking she wanted. She tells me what is on her mind, and our relationship has improved immeasurably. She is again a cooperative person.”

A large advertisement appeared on the financial page of a New York newspaper calling for a person with unusual ability and experience. Charles T. Cubellis answered the ad, sending his reply to a box number. A few days later, he was invited by letter to call for an interview. Before the appointment, he spent hours on Wall Street finding out everything possible about the person who had founded the business. During the interview, Mr. Cubellis remarked: “I should be mighty proud to be associated with an organization with a record like yours. I understand you started twenty-eight years ago with nothing but room for a desk and a stenographer. Is that true?”

Almost every successful person likes to reminisce about their early struggles, and this man was no exception. He talked for a long time about how he had started with $450 in cash and an original idea. He told how he had fought against discouragement and battled against ridicule, working Sundays and holidays, twelve to sixteen hours a day; how he had finally won against all odds, until now the most important executives on Wall Street were coming to him for information and guidance. He was proud of such a record. He had a right to be and he had a splendid time telling about it. Finally, he questioned Mr. Cubellis briefly about his experience, then called in one of his vice presidents and said: “I think this is the person we are looking for.”

Mr. Cubellis had taken the trouble to find out about the accomplishments of his prospective employer. He showed an interest in the other person and his problems. He encouraged the other person to do most of the talking—and, in doing so, made a favorable impression.

The truth is, even our friends would much rather talk to us about their achievements than listen to us boast about ours.

La Rochefoucauld, the French philosopher, said: “If you want enemies, excel your friends; but if you want friends, let your friends excel you.”

Why is that true? Because when our friends excel us, they feel important; but when we excel them, and trumpet our successes to them, it can arouse feelings of envy and even resentment.

So let’s minimize our achievements. Let’s be modest. That always makes a hit.

We ought to be modest, for both you and I will pass on and be completely forgotten a century from now. Life is too short to bore other people with talk of our petty accomplishments. Let’s encourage them to talk instead. So if we want to win people to our way of thinking:

PRINCIPLE 6

Let the other person do a great deal of the talking.