Pitch Anything: An Innovative Method for Presenting, Persuading, and Winning the Deal: An Innovative Method for Presenting, Persuading, and Winning the Deal (6 page)

Sound outrageous? It’s not, I promise you.
When you rotate the circle of social power 180 degrees, it changes everything
. The predator becomes the prey. In this instance, what your target is feeling is a kind of moral shame—they have wronged you—and they feel obligated to make things right.

Initial y, you walked in with low status. Just another pitch in a long string of pitches. Over many experiences, these people have learned how to have their way with salespeople and presenters like you. But now, you’ve broken their power play. They wil apologize, appease, and try to correct for the social gaffe, and in most cases, if Mr. Big is in the building, they wil find a way to get him in front of you.

In a moment, I’m going to address what happens when you encounter
time frames
and
analyst frames
. Before going into these aspects of framing in greater detail, though, I think it might help to prepare the ground if I recount how I came to develop and use frames over the years. As you wil see, the practical side of frames grew out of my personal experiences, sometimes in high-stakes situations where there was much to be gained and lost.

Remember, when you own the frame, people respond to you. Let me share an example from my own experience.

The Avocado Farmer’s Money

I looked down at my phone. Fourteen missed cal s, al from the same person, D. WALTER. I’d turned off my ringer for less than 30 minutes, and the phone blew up. I listened to one of his messages:

“Oren, I have a serious problem,” he started.

His serious problem was a deal that had already gone bad, and now it was my job to help.

Dennis Walter was an avocado farmer, a guy who got his overal s dirty, a guy who put in long days in the hot sun. After 35 years, he was ready for retirement. He had money saved, but a good portion of it ($640,000) was in an escrow account, control ed by a man named Donald McGhan.

Dennis wanted his money now, and it was his, legal y. But he was unable to get it back despite repeated attempts. This was now affecting an $18

mil ion deal that both Dennis and I were in. If Dennis couldn’t wire his money to me, al $640,000, then the deal—a large property we were buying in Hawaii—would start to unwind. So his problem was now my problem, too.

To retrieve Dennis’s money, I would have to sit down with McGhan and make an appeal to have the money returned. This is how I was thrust into a pitch that clearly was doomed to fail. It wasn’t life and death, but it was close. This was a man’s life savings.

I knew a little bit about McGhan. He had a reputation as a successful businessman, primarily in the field of medical devices. Intriguingly, while at Dow Corning in the 1960s, he helped to invent the first generation of silicone breast implants. Today, he owned two companies: MediCor and Southwest Exchange.

MediCor’s breast implant business had looked promising for a while. But the success enjoyed there was short-lived, and McGhan turned desperate. To keep MediCor solvent, McGhan began siphoning money from Southwest Exchange.

Southwest Exchange, which McGhan bought in 2004, gave him instant access to over $100 mil ion in escrow accounts. Real estate investors, like Dennis, had used Southwest Exchange to hold their money while looking for new investments.

Soon after acquiring Southwest Exchange, McGhan, according to federal investigators, transferred $47.3 mil ion from Southwest Exchange to MediCor. Just like that. Including $640,000 from Dennis, the avocado farmer.

Now I was on our corporate jet, en route to Las Vegas, on my way to help Dennis attempt the impossible.

I thought about McGhan and what it might be like to confront him face to face. At the time, I had no idea I was walking into a $100 mil ion problem involving hundreds of investors. Or that McGhan was a bad guy, a criminal, presiding over a large-scale Ponzi scheme. Al I knew was that this wasn’t going to be pleasant.

As I drove to Henderson, a Las Vegas suburb, I had a strong sense of purpose. Not only was McGhan harming Dennis, not only was McGhan in the wrong, but the lost $640,000 also was holding up my Hawaii deal.

I pul ed into the Southwest Exchange parking lot, and I met Dennis for the first time in person. He was a nice guy, looked like your typical farmer, and looked like a guy who real y needed my help.

I was clearly nervous. Although I almost always enjoy pitching deals, it’s usual y for new business. Making this kind of pitch, to get money back—a lot of money—from a bad deal, is mental y and emotional y tough.

To calm myself, I thought about frame control and al the other methods that I had spent countless hours learning, and trying to master. As I mentioned before, no situation has real
meaning
until you frame it.
Frames
are mental structures that shape the way we see the world and put relationships in context. The frame you put around a situation completely and total y controls its meaning. But you aren’t the only one framing.

People are always trying to impose frames on each other. The frame is like a picture of what you want the interaction to be about. And the most powerful thing about frames? There can be only one dominant frame during any interaction between two people.

When two frames come together, the stronger frame absorbs the weaker frame. Then weak arguments and rational facts just bounce off the winning frame.

Dennis and I spoke for a few minutes in the parking lot. I prepared my frame. Then, just like that, I was ready, so we walked into the building together, and I went looking for the one guy who had caused al these problems: Donald McGhan.

It was 9 a.m. when we walked into the building. It was a generic looking office with a black leather couch and magazines spread neatly on the coffee table.

“Good morning. How can I help you?” a receptionist asked.

“I don’t need help,” I said. “Just tel me which office Don McGhan is in.”

She began her gatekeeper script: “I’l see if he’s in.”

Rituals like these are meant to reinforce status hierarchies. But I was there to establish my own status and frame control and certainly not to supplicate a gatekeeper.

I strode past the front desk and down the hal way, the gatekeeper chasing behind me. She tried to keep me out of the office, to keep me from finding Dennis’s money, so I had no choice but to start throwing open doors to various offices, interrogating anyone and everyone. What were they going to do, cal the cops? Back at the office, my partner already had the local police and the FBI on speed dial.

“Where’s Don McGhan?” I bel owed!

There were plenty of people now trying to stop me, but I wasn’t going to stop until I’d spoken to McGhan. And I wasn’t going to leave without Dennis’s $640,000.

As I made my way through the building, office by office, Don McGhan hustled himself out the back door, not wanting to deal with me. Instead, he sent his son, Jim, who final y came out to “handle” things.

Jim McGhan, in his early 40s, was dressed in an Armani suit and had a confident, arrogant way about him. He was tal , and he looked down at me. We sat in a conference room, and right away, he was trying to take control, trying to frame things by saying,
There’s a rational explanation for
all of this.

So
that
was his game; he was playing with the
analyst frame
, which relies on facts, figures, and logic.

I had a better frame prepared, the
moral authority
frame, and it’s an analyst disruptor.

“Jim, you cannot hold Dennis’s money,” I told him. “We’ve requested it properly, and you’re going to get it for him right now.”

Jim was a player. I saw it in his eyes. But he knew that his scheme was fal ing apart, and he wasn’t interested in giving Dennis the money.

Instead, the money probably would be wired to McGhan’s attorney by day’s end, and then, we’d never get it. He knew what he was doing. He was using his status and authority to confidently explain the so-cal ed facts.

I give him credit for one thing: Jim pul ed off a beautiful analyst frame. He was completely unfazed, arrogant, and acting puzzled as to why we were there. Then he began with a rational, highly detailed, and analytical explanation of why the money couldn’t be transferred right away.

This was the squaring-off phase.

He was trying to spin. He thought he could put us off and have us leave empty-handed.

Of course, I wasn’t having that. I came in with a moral authority frame—that we were right and he was wrong—a nearly unshakeable frame when used correctly. The game was on. He knew my frame, and I knew his.

Next came the moment of first contact. It’s that moment when two opposing frames are about to col ide with ful force. You can feel it—usual y as a pang of anxiety in the pit of your stomach. It is at this moment when you need to strengthen your resolve and commit completely to your frame. No matter what happens, no matter how much social pressure and discomfort you suffer, you must stay composed and stick to your frame. This is cal ed
plowing
. So you prepare yourself to plow, as an ox might plow a field.
Always moving forward. Never stopping. Never any self-doubt.
And, as you are about to see, when two frames col ide, the stronger one always wins.

The niceties didn’t last long. I spoke plainly and looked Jim right in the eyes. “We want Dennis’s $640,000, and we are getting al of it back from you, today, right now.”

He hemmed and hawed. He threw out a bunch of promises, half-truths, and MBA double talk. But I saw through the jibberish. And I had the stronger frame:
moral authority
.

I plowed.

“Look,” I said. “Your lips are moving, but I’m not listening to a single word. Your words have no meaning. Stop talking. Start transferring money.”

He blinked. He tried one more time to explain, to argue, to rationalize why the money hadn’t been transferred to Dennis, something about misplaced wire-transfer numbers. But rational explanations wil never override a moral authority frame.

At one point, I saw the realization cross his face. He knew that he had picked the weaker frame. In fact, he tried the moral authority frame out for himself, “You know what, I’ve had enough of this. Get out of here now, or I’m going to cal the cops.”

But it was too late for him. He had already picked a weak analyst frame and had overcommitted to it—and was about to pay for doing so. It was time for
frame disruption
. I was ready to pulverize his frame into a puff of fine mist.

I pul ed out my phone and dialed a col eague, Sam Greenberg. I put him on speaker and discussed the logistics of getting the FBI involved.

Dramatic? Yes. But Jim McGhan knew at that moment we were 100 percent committed to fol owing through. I was activating the primal fears in his croc brain. As soon as he became afraid, my frame would crush his, and he would bend to my wil .

“Let me paint a picture for you, Jim,” I told him. “You’ve seen SWAT teams in the movies. It happens
just like that
. They are going to swarm through this door, FBI accountants wearing Kevlar vests and Glock 22s. And the sheriff wil be blasting pepper spray at anything that moves, dogs wil be barking, and they’l be fastening your hands behind your back with zip ties. Is that how you want today to end, hog-tied, pepper sprayed, lying in the back of a black van with no windows? The other option is—you starting transferring money to us.”

SMASH! That was the moral authority frame, delivered with emotional realism, and here, I achieved the
hookpoint
. Our frames had col ided. My frame had absorbed his. The only options were my options. There’s a moment in games of strategy when the other side realizes that no matter what moves it makes, the game is lost. This was
that moment.

I now had his ful attention. Although it was his office and his domain, I had the seized the high-status position. Although he stil had our money, $640,000, I had the
frame control
.

“Jim, starting right now, every 15 minutes, you’re going to give me a deliverable. That means—just so you understand me perfectly—every 15

minutes something happens that benefits
me
. Cancel your schedule, do not leave this room, pick up the phone, and start finding our money.”

He was listening, and I continued.

“I need the money wired to Dennis’s account, right now.”

Just because you have frame control doesn’t mean that someone won’t push back. You
just stay committed to your frame and keep it strong.

You plow.
Jim started with more MBA doublespeak, returning to rationalization mode. So I expanded the frame to include new characters and new consequences.

“Listen, Jim.
Stop
,” I told him. “Get your friends and family and investor’s list and start dialing for money. Every 15 minutes you need to hand me a wire-transfer confirmation.”

This was the point of consolidation. Because I had done everything right, up to this point, there was no need to make threats or create drama.

The frame was set. The agenda was my agenda. Because the social interaction was being governed by my frame, these were the rules Jim had
to follow:

Rule 1: Everything happening must involve Dennis’s money.

Rule 2: Something good must happen every 15 minutes.

Rule 3: The meeting isn’t over until al $640,000 is wired.

I sat with Jim for six long hours as he dialed associates, family members, and friends. The money came rol ing in, in smal increments ($10,000

here, $15,000 here).

As I mentioned earlier, when two mental frames come together, when they col ide, the stronger frame disrupts and absorbs the weaker frame. I’d control ed the frame, started it smal , and expanded it, and Jim’s weaker frame col apsed. His internal state went from nonchalance and arrogance to panic and desperation. His status went from high to low. Responding to my frame, he raised Dennis’s money, and we walked out with al the $640,000—irrevocably secured via wire transfers. Mission accomplished.