While spending the week with family in Colorado, my brother-in-law, Jason, and I spent one morning traveling the mountainous back country on my father's ATVs. Thrilled by both scenery and speed, we took the hills with that wonderful combination of confidence and naiveté that men on 4-wheelers have.
After about an hour of maneuvering through the well-worn paths of Westcliffe, Jason looked at me and pointed to the mountain in front of us, indicating that we should ride to the top of it. Excited at the challenge, and armed with all the confidence an hour of experience brings, I raced ahead of him onto the base of the mountain.
Shifting into 4-wheel drive, we climbed the steep mountainside. As we reached the rolling flat summit, I threw my arms up like I was Rocky reaching the top of the stairs. A few seconds later, I realized that getting down from the mountain wasn't going to be as easy as getting up had been.
I turned to Jason and asked, "So... how do we get down?" He replied, "Easy, we go this way." As we began to retrace our path, it became apparent we were going to have some trouble getting down safely. The mountainside was too steep and we could feel the ATVs starting to tip over. Throwing them into reverse, we backed up, trying to find a safer path down. With his military experience, I trusted Jason's instincts over my own. Following him to another path, my heart jumped as the back two tires began lifting off of the ground, about to tumble. Looking at the quarter mile downward, I froze.
I dismounted the ATV and pushed it back to safer ground. We repeated the process no less than a dozen times. Jason's confidence and my belief in it had me following him blindly. Finally, I had to ask him straight out, "Do you seriously know how to get down from here?" He replied, "Yes, it's right over there, it's the safest way." Having just spent 45 minutes following him, I asked again in a non-accusatory tone, "Are you sure that's the way?" Jason paused, "No, I have no idea."
Admitting that he had no idea how to get down, we were able to make some progress. We dismounted, sat down, and evaluated the situation. Pooling together our thoughts and scouting out paths on foot, we found the most effective way to resolve the situation we were in.
In business, we encounter situations like this everyday. However, basic business training encourages seeking out "yes" answers and avoiding the word "no" at all costs. Truthfully, we should seek to establish clean communication with our customers, the type that allows the salesperson, and the customer, to evaluate the situation, using all of the information available in order to make the right decision.
Too often we lead our customers down the path of "yes" when the right answer is actually "no." We try so hard to close a sale that we fail to establish a clean understanding of the situation. In the absence of this clean understanding we can drag out the sales process with no acceptable conclusion, or we convince our customer to take a path that is wholly inappropriate. You may get a sale, but you will kill the long-term relationship as you and your customer tumble down in the wrong direction like a top-heavy ATV.
In every sales relationship, you must try to understand where you are at from a communication standpoint. There is great value in taking some time to have a simple conversation about whether you and your customer feel you are on the right course. To receive an honest, productive answer, creating an environment that allows your customer to feel comfortable enough to tell you "no" can sometimes be the fastest way to the sale and the only way into a long-term relationship.
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