We asked anybody on the webinar who felt like sharing to describe a job offer that took them by surprise. A guy named Mitchell went first.
"I barely said three words on the job interview; I had a bad cold and I was dizzy. I could hardly process the questions the Vice President asked me."
After the interview Mitchell went home and went to sleep, and the next day the VP's assistant called to talk about Mitch's travel to the company's annual conference. "Does this mean I'm getting a job offer?" he asked her. "Oh dear," she said, "I thought you'd received that offer. Yes, we're very excited to get you on our team. I can't wait to meet you!"
Mitch later learned that the VP had been impressed by Mitchell's circumspection. "You didn't try to sell me, and I respect that," said Mitch's new boss. On the webinar, Mitchell told us "I was too sick to do anything other than hang on."
When we're nervous about a job interview or a sales call and our brains are flying at light speed, it's easy to fall out of our bodies. When that happens, we can easily start talking a mile a minute, trying hard to impress the person we're meeting. It's embarrassing to realize that you laughed too hard at the interviewer's lame jokes or flattered him or her for no reason.
That was fear talking, forcing words out of your lips that you never would have uttered in your normal state. In sales, they call that can't-shut-up condition "throwing up on the customer." It's about the worst thing you can do.
(I say "about the worst thing you can do" because there is a worse thing. No doubt you've heard the story of the rookie salesperson who was taught to look for a personal, conversational entry point for each new prospect. Walking into an executive's office for the first time, the rookie salesperson spotted a photo of his client on the golf course.
"How did you get to play golf with John Madden?" asked the young salesperson, to which the prospect icily replied, "That's my wife." That's worse than throwing up on the customer.)
Before Human Workplace, I led an online community for women in business and technology. Our online community was large and the women in it were highly educated go-getters, so we got hit with constant pitches for products and services that marketers thought our members might like.
One salesman had been up in my grill for months. I finally relented and said I'd meet him for coffee. "Let's make it lunch!" he said. "Okay," I said. On the day of our scheduled lunch, I had a family crisis: my kindergartener Declan was sick with a mild flu.
"I have to stay home with my son," I told the salesman. "Can he come and have lunch with us?" asked the sales guy. Declan thought that was a great idea, so off we went.
Once we got to the restaurant, I worried that my little sick one might disrupt the meeting, but he sat quietly in his corner of the booth with a Star Wars coloring book. Declan ordered mac and cheese for lunch, his favorite. (When he was three and I caught him sharing mac and cheese with our dog Mojo, I said "Declan! No mac and cheese for Mojo!" and he replied, "But Mom, I only gave him one mac and chee.")
I ordered a salad. The sales guy ordered a steak.
To my horror as lunch began, the guy launched into a canned sales pitch of the type seldom heard outside an Oxy-Clean commercial. The product, to my greater horror, was not the networking resource the guy had mentioned on the phone but a cheesy how-to-grow-your-business bootcamp in L.A.
God is teaching me to perform due diligence, said a voice in my head. Declan munched on his mac and cheese. I picked at my salad, waiting for the sales barrage to end, as on and on it droned.
The guy was on a roll, hardly stopping for breath. "Please, eat your steak," I begged, but the sales pitch kept on rolling. "Come to our workshop in L.A. and your business will grow a hundredfold," he said.
Why didn't I protest? I can't tell you, except that I didn't want to have conflict with my little sick one present. The guy hadn't asked me one question in an hour. I worked on my salad and listed the presidents in my head: Washington, Adams, Jefferson, Madison, Monroe. Finally, the heavens smiled on me and the check arrived.
"Are we splitting this?" asked the sales guy. "Um," I said, and just then, little Declan turned to me and spoke his first words in an hour.
"I feel burpy," he said, and his entire lunch of mac and cheese reappeared on his plate, barely chewed, in an amazingly discreet five-year-old throw-up move. I threw a white napkin over the regurgitated noodles and handed the plate to a passing busboy. "I think the kid said it best," I told the sales guy. "I feel like the plate that got thrown up on."
"What do you mean?" asked the salesman. "You didn't ask me one question," I said. "That wasn't a conversation - it was an aural blast. Weren't you the slightest bit curious what I thought of your pitch, at any point?"
"I know your business," said the poor sales guy, "because I looked at your website before we met. I know this product is great. What else do I need to know?"
I had heard the term "throwing up on the customer" before, but the mac and cheese upchuck lunch made the meaning clear in a way the phrase alone could never do.
How do you keep your counsel on a sales call or at a job interview? You do it by remembering that your pitch makes no sense, can't be heard, and cannot possibly resonate unless your interviewer or prospect is interested in what you have to say.
There's only one way to determine whether your conversation partner might want to hear what you're saying, and that is to ask questions and listen to the answers.
If you're prone to throwing up on people in your sales calls and job interviews, start by consciously slowing your speech. Allow yourself two sentences at a time, and after every two sentences, stop and ask a question. "Am I anywhere in the ballpark?" is a good question. "Am I off base, or are these the issues you're dealing with?" is another.
When you remember that we buy from and hire people not because their sparkling words impress us but because we believe they are solid people we can trust, you'll relax and leave the motor-mouth routine to others.
We can be ourselves at a job interview or in a sales meeting, and the more we do that the better off we'll be. If people want to buy from us, they will. The more talking we do, the less likely we are to get the outcome we want. Stay in your body and your power and remember that only the people who get you, deserve you.
Don't feed a kid with the flu a plate of macaroni and cheese, and remember that in business, the person who talks the most always loses.
Liz Ryan
CEO and Founder, Human Workplace
"I barely said three words on the job interview; I had a bad cold and I was dizzy. I could hardly process the questions the Vice President asked me."
After the interview Mitchell went home and went to sleep, and the next day the VP's assistant called to talk about Mitch's travel to the company's annual conference. "Does this mean I'm getting a job offer?" he asked her. "Oh dear," she said, "I thought you'd received that offer. Yes, we're very excited to get you on our team. I can't wait to meet you!"
Mitch later learned that the VP had been impressed by Mitchell's circumspection. "You didn't try to sell me, and I respect that," said Mitch's new boss. On the webinar, Mitchell told us "I was too sick to do anything other than hang on."
When we're nervous about a job interview or a sales call and our brains are flying at light speed, it's easy to fall out of our bodies. When that happens, we can easily start talking a mile a minute, trying hard to impress the person we're meeting. It's embarrassing to realize that you laughed too hard at the interviewer's lame jokes or flattered him or her for no reason.
That was fear talking, forcing words out of your lips that you never would have uttered in your normal state. In sales, they call that can't-shut-up condition "throwing up on the customer." It's about the worst thing you can do.
(I say "about the worst thing you can do" because there is a worse thing. No doubt you've heard the story of the rookie salesperson who was taught to look for a personal, conversational entry point for each new prospect. Walking into an executive's office for the first time, the rookie salesperson spotted a photo of his client on the golf course.
"How did you get to play golf with John Madden?" asked the young salesperson, to which the prospect icily replied, "That's my wife." That's worse than throwing up on the customer.)
Before Human Workplace, I led an online community for women in business and technology. Our online community was large and the women in it were highly educated go-getters, so we got hit with constant pitches for products and services that marketers thought our members might like.
One salesman had been up in my grill for months. I finally relented and said I'd meet him for coffee. "Let's make it lunch!" he said. "Okay," I said. On the day of our scheduled lunch, I had a family crisis: my kindergartener Declan was sick with a mild flu.
"I have to stay home with my son," I told the salesman. "Can he come and have lunch with us?" asked the sales guy. Declan thought that was a great idea, so off we went.
Once we got to the restaurant, I worried that my little sick one might disrupt the meeting, but he sat quietly in his corner of the booth with a Star Wars coloring book. Declan ordered mac and cheese for lunch, his favorite. (When he was three and I caught him sharing mac and cheese with our dog Mojo, I said "Declan! No mac and cheese for Mojo!" and he replied, "But Mom, I only gave him one mac and chee.")
I ordered a salad. The sales guy ordered a steak.
To my horror as lunch began, the guy launched into a canned sales pitch of the type seldom heard outside an Oxy-Clean commercial. The product, to my greater horror, was not the networking resource the guy had mentioned on the phone but a cheesy how-to-grow-your-business bootcamp in L.A.
God is teaching me to perform due diligence, said a voice in my head. Declan munched on his mac and cheese. I picked at my salad, waiting for the sales barrage to end, as on and on it droned.
The guy was on a roll, hardly stopping for breath. "Please, eat your steak," I begged, but the sales pitch kept on rolling. "Come to our workshop in L.A. and your business will grow a hundredfold," he said.
Why didn't I protest? I can't tell you, except that I didn't want to have conflict with my little sick one present. The guy hadn't asked me one question in an hour. I worked on my salad and listed the presidents in my head: Washington, Adams, Jefferson, Madison, Monroe. Finally, the heavens smiled on me and the check arrived.
"Are we splitting this?" asked the sales guy. "Um," I said, and just then, little Declan turned to me and spoke his first words in an hour.
"I feel burpy," he said, and his entire lunch of mac and cheese reappeared on his plate, barely chewed, in an amazingly discreet five-year-old throw-up move. I threw a white napkin over the regurgitated noodles and handed the plate to a passing busboy. "I think the kid said it best," I told the sales guy. "I feel like the plate that got thrown up on."
"What do you mean?" asked the salesman. "You didn't ask me one question," I said. "That wasn't a conversation - it was an aural blast. Weren't you the slightest bit curious what I thought of your pitch, at any point?"
"I know your business," said the poor sales guy, "because I looked at your website before we met. I know this product is great. What else do I need to know?"
I had heard the term "throwing up on the customer" before, but the mac and cheese upchuck lunch made the meaning clear in a way the phrase alone could never do.
How do you keep your counsel on a sales call or at a job interview? You do it by remembering that your pitch makes no sense, can't be heard, and cannot possibly resonate unless your interviewer or prospect is interested in what you have to say.
There's only one way to determine whether your conversation partner might want to hear what you're saying, and that is to ask questions and listen to the answers.
If you're prone to throwing up on people in your sales calls and job interviews, start by consciously slowing your speech. Allow yourself two sentences at a time, and after every two sentences, stop and ask a question. "Am I anywhere in the ballpark?" is a good question. "Am I off base, or are these the issues you're dealing with?" is another.
When you remember that we buy from and hire people not because their sparkling words impress us but because we believe they are solid people we can trust, you'll relax and leave the motor-mouth routine to others.
We can be ourselves at a job interview or in a sales meeting, and the more we do that the better off we'll be. If people want to buy from us, they will. The more talking we do, the less likely we are to get the outcome we want. Stay in your body and your power and remember that only the people who get you, deserve you.
Don't feed a kid with the flu a plate of macaroni and cheese, and remember that in business, the person who talks the most always loses.
Liz Ryan
CEO and Founder, Human Workplace
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