You see mixing ADD and pain meds doesn’t go well, so all week I’ve had to choose between sanity, and … well, sanity. Dizzying pain or dizzying brain? Fun choice. Let’s just say the ankle screamed louder than any shiny objects in my house ever could, so the pain killers won that tug-o-war. Okay so imagine me, with the attention span of a flea, sans the requisite mobility to act on all the genius ideas that keep popping into my brain, with a mild infestation of ninja ants. Tiny, tiny ants who – after having their candy-on-my-shoe buffet poisoned, scattered like drunk teenagers do when someone shouts five-0 – now appear, singly, everywhere. I’d broken the line and the soldiers were lost, roaming, and dare I say, following me, begging for pizza crumbs. Yup lock a turbo-extrovert in a room by herself for a week and she’ll concoct an ant conspiracy and chase it around the apartment, on crutches, with bug spray. Which is precisely why I choose Walgreens: they sell ant traps!

What is it about people offering you “advice” when they see that you’re injured? Is it the fact that you can’t get away and therefore have to listen to them? But let me tell you what, since I’ve been busted everybody and their mother wants to tell me what to do to fix it. My favorite was the lady at Walgreens who, after saying “[she’ll] wait for [me]” with the elevator (which I got to before it arrived, mind you) managed to fart out a whole tome of treatment options during our one floor journey together. The conclusion of which went something like: “No! You know what you should do… put your foot in a bucket and fill it with ice! Do you have a bucket?!?” Let’s pretend I didn’t. did she think a bucket was going to fit in my backpack? Or that I would tie to my belt and drag it behind me? ::sigh::

By the time I got done with the flock of people following me with genius anecdotes, I decided to stop at the liquor store on my way home. Not because the people really stressed me out, nor because I realized I shouldn’t go another week without ritalin. No, because I – stupidly – took 400 bucks out of the ATM *after* I shopped. What can I say, I don’t like making ATM runs, but with the crutches and all I felt like a target, so why not dart into the liquor store to see if anyone was following me, right? This time the quest was for Rumplemintz. I made a lap, and as I turned the corner I decided I didn’t wanna hobble the whole store, so I asked. The exchange was like something out of an Abbot and Costello bit. The bloke was either deaf or a douchebag.

I’m going with the later, because by the time he grasped what I was asking for we had both arrived at the bottle. Very Lady and the Tramp, but instead of a blushing smooch I got a snide point. This gentleman was so customer service minded that he followed his point with an about face. I took the bottle, placed it in my bag and headed toward the register. As I approached the counter I faced a death you-better-not-think-you’re-stealing-that stare. Look, buddy you can’t not help *and* hate on my accommodation. I tell you what, if there was anywhere else I could have limped to, I would have, but by this point, douchey employee notwithstanding, I was ready to Rumple my mintz home.

So this week, help the prospects that need helping, and let the rest shop in peace. Reserve the pail sales for those on their way up the hill, because after the tumbling is over all anyone really wants is a cool cocktail, not a bucket for their water.

In that moment I realized how dependent this blog’s flow is on my previously insatiable need to talk and, in the absence of a subject with a suitably sarcastic pulse, I’d just talk to “you” instead. While fleeting waves of missed deadline guilt still wash over me weekly, I’m really not that upset about it. I mean how could I be? My turbo extroversion and endless nighttime energy has finally met its match. I’m satisfied. In fact, I’ve even been shopping less (which only exacerbates my writer’s block) because after an episode of conversational poke-the-bear and dance, I’m ready for bed not browsing.

Still, I couldn’t help but wonder if this might be why people choose to buy a single replacement part over an all-in-one, more comprehensive solution – even tho it’s the poorer long term choice. Are some prospects just so content with the way things are that the simplicity of a bandaid beats out stitches, even when they “know” that’s the smarter play? Or are customers merely putting their personal preference for the “easy way” before the long term success of their employer?

Like me, blatantly risking readership for the sake of a single conversation, some people just want the quick win, and as purveyors of complex solutions we must identify these traits before they retard our opportunities. If your product can be partitioned, consider plugging future power but don’t dwell. And if the offering can’t be slimmed, slim your scope instead. Either way the goal remains: help your prospect make the best for them, even if they don’t feel like it.

So this week, differentiate, don’t complicate! By telling people only what they need to hear, showing them only the software they need to see, and satisfying only their most emergent desires, you will free the time necessary to unveil how these simple steps actually do further a larger goal. Once they see how your solution helps them do both – helps them to lazily address today’s desires while still being a good corporate citizen – they’ll surely come along for the ride.

Throughout my career, spanning a myriad of roles and responsibilities, two facts have emerged. 1) During the time when the company focused on the fruits of my labor, I thrived. And 2) when my boss started worrying more about how I looked and what I wore, than what I did or said, I matriculated. It will always be the case that there are times for thinking and times for doing, times for opinions and times for operations, times for innovation and times for obligation. With a big birthday now behind me I’ve accepted that my happiness is more often found while a member of the former party of those tuples.

This categorical epiphany (of sorts) made me think about assumptions. During my less socially aware moments, aka when I’m on a roll, I sometimes forget that “normal” people don’t classify argument as the same benevolent sport that I do. It made me wonder, how – as salesmen – we might fall into a similar autopilot-fueled trap. We talk about our often complicated product or service every single day. We know the jargon, memorized the abbreviations, and dish out business shattering ideas with all the authority of a certified industry expert.

That’s all well and good, but eventually… eventually we all go stupid. Eventually we commit the cardinal sin of sales. Eventually we put our prospects in a place where they have to choose between embarrassment and burden. Eventually …. we ask them what *they* want. That’s right, I said it. I just equated asking what customers want to the party foul of all party fouls. Now please, hang on to those pitchforks for a second, and indulge me for a moment.

I’m not saying you shouldn’t discuss a customer’s needs, expectations, goals, requirements, fears, concerns, aspirations, or timeline. In fact, please do! I’m saying once you’ve done all that and secured yourself a position as the trusted advisor after you’ve presented a solution outline that they love – don’t go muck it all up by expecting your decision maker to choose between technology specifics – the likes of which fall outside the lines of their expertise. If you did your job well you’re having a business conversation, and your team – your SEs, consultants, project managers, and their counterparts on the customer side – had the technical conversations. Since the project has the green light, go for the close don’t ask them what color to paint the door.

So this week, do what you do… well. Don’t try to fill every role in the deal; don’t try to make DJs wear suits; don’t mistake lack of mascara for lack of professionalism; and don’t ask your customer to design *your* solution. By confidently focusing on what you do best, you will more promptly deliver a signed deal which lets your customer return focus to their business. Win, win.

What really makes this story so alarming, however, was what happened one year following the rollout of the scholarship fund: several businesses began to close! All three of the 7-11s in town shut their doors when the franchisees followed their sons and daughters out of town. Many of the local fast food joints saw dips in sales upwards of 50% as quality of product declined. Even the KFC/Taco Bell/Pizza Hut three-in-one restaurant had to take on a new name – Cluckers, Burritos, and Slices – after YUM! Brands pulled the franchise license.

What strikes me is the community claims to be baffled. Local officials were quoted as asking: why did all these business fail? I think the bigger questions is: how did the town not see this coming? Furthermore, why are they fighting so hard against stereotypes?

Look, stereotypes develop for a reason: some people are just better at certain jobs. It’s not like people flock from far and wide to try to the great authentic ethnic cuisine hidden among our large collection of our flyover states. And that’s okay. America’s melting pot has allowed people to develop niches, effective strategies, proven selling styles, and habits that pay. We just need to stop trying to fix what isn’t broken!

So this week, stick to the shibboleth. We both know, all this talk about adaptive business and the era of the customer is just analyst smoke-blowing designed to sell consulting engagements. The complementary moniker of a “typical salesman” didn’t develop because it didn’t work… it’s because “typical salesman” sell. It’s a new quarter, no sense in rocking the boat, just get out there, show ‘em some software, and watch the contracts roll in.

But last week I finally bit the bullet and dialed for doctors. Five offices, four days, three blind disconnections, two unreturned messages, one validated point, and zero appointments later… here we are. Pouting, I turned my attention to Twitter, where I stumbled on an article about how customers admitted their willingness to vendor hop when faced with a vendor who provided more, or more preferred, communication channels. “Oh yea, ZocDoc!” I thought as I opened another browser, logged in, and updated my insurance info. My search returned a single doctor, on the beach, in my insurance plan. Done!

She was attractive, had no disparaging reviews, went to a school I’d heard of, donned a last name I could pronounce, and had availability on Monday. Perfect. I clicked away and locked down a time. No receptionists; no voicemails; no worries.

I realize my doctor selection criteria is unorthodox, but the fact is you probably have gone head-to-head with prospects with equally odd yardsticks. But quirkiness aside, ask yourself – what barriers to buying to you throw up? How many hoops do you force your customers to jump thru just to place an order? Do your clients invest the bulk of their time in the right parts of the prospecting process?

As a person who obviously personifies the modern customer whose choices are driven by channel and convenience, you may be inclined to dismiss the warning. Do so carefully, because even analysts agree these numbers will only increase over time as people realize their preferential stubbornness will be placated, if not outright rewarded.

So this week, stop blocking the money. Take a moment to ask your customers, and the ones who went another way, how they wanted to buy. When you offer solutions via the channel people want you remove the handicap and will close more, and more loyal, business.