Pitch Anything: An Innovative Method for Presenting, Persuading, and Winning the Deal: An Innovative Method for Presenting, Persuading, and Winning the Deal (9 page)

Prizing 201 offers additional lessons beyond the previous learning:

1. There is a great temptation to use trial closes because we’ve al been told this is how sel ing should be done: “So, are we in the bal park?” or

“What do you think so far?”
Don’t do it. This shows you as being too eager to get a deal done.
Anyway, trial closes are crude and ineffective.

2. Instead, take the time to step back, to withdraw. Work to control the underlying prize frame—then you don’t have to push your ideas so hard.

Instead of a trial close, you might issue a chal enge (do it with humor or it wil feel forced): “So many buyers, yet only one of me. How are you going to compete for my attention.” I left out the question mark for a reason—because you are not seeking validation from the target. You don’t have to ask it as a question; just issue it as a statement. It’s important to get used to making statements instead of asking questions.

Doing it this way shows that you aren’t constantly seeking validation.

3. Make the target perform a legitimate task to earn the deal. For example, BMW has a special-edition M3 that requires you to sign a contract promising to you’l keep it clean and take care of the special paint. The company won’t even let you buy one until you promise this in writing.

4. What fol ows might sound like advice from the positive-mental-attitude crowd, but it’s an important part of the learning: The prize frame works best when you change your attitude about money—ful y realizing that money is almost useless to any buyer/investor until it purchases what you have. Oh sure, the investor’s money can earn a few bucks in Treasury bil s or corporate bonds. But that’s not what money wants to do. It wants to go to work by investing in deals and buying products. How does this work in the real world? This can seem a little abstract until you ful y internalize the fol owing fact: Money cannot do anything without you. The money needs
you
.

When you combine the elements in Prizing 101 and 201, at first it feels like you are walking up the down escalator. This is a natural reaction.

Don’t worry, prizing does not mean that we have given up the pursuit of buyers—that would be an absurd notion. It means we must give up the concept of ABC, or “Always Be Closing,” a phrase popularized by the sales gurus of the 1980s. Instead, you must embrace the idea that money is a commodity, that it is available in a thousand places, and that it’s al the same no matter where it comes from. Knowing this, it is more likely you wil embrace ABL—“Always Be Leaving.” And it’s also likely that you’l embrace the money that comes with it.

Money is a commodity. Every investment banker and economist you’l meet wil confirm this. Imagine that—Investors reframed as a commodity, a vending machine for money. When you think about it, this makes perfect sense because there are many places to source money, but there is only one you. Your deal is unique among al others. If you think of yourself and your deal in this way and build frames around this idea, you wil be pleased at how it wil change the social dynamics in your meetings with investors.

If you want to get started with this, in a simple, low-risk way, here is a phrase I often use to set the prize frame firmly in place: “I’m glad I could find the time to meet with you today. And I do have another meeting right after this. Let’s get started.” This is always a good start because it tel s the audience that there are many like them but only one of you.

As you move into your pitch, find moments to reinforce the other frames you hold. For example, make appropriate comments about the value of your time to strengthen both your time frame and your prize frame.

If someone asks a question that is relevant yet veers toward an analytical tangent, let the question just bounce off your stronger power frame.

Save the discussion of details for later, after you have said what you want to say.

Remember, smal acts of defiance and denial, combined with humor, are extremely powerful in maintaining your frame control and in reinforcing your high status. Humor is important here—don’t leave it out, or I guarantee that you wil encounter unpredictable responses.

Status plays an important role in frame control. How others view you is critical to your ability to establish the dominant frame and hold onto the power you take when you win the frame col ision. But most people in business and social interactions view status incorrectly. You don’t earn status by being polite, by obeying the established power rituals of business, or by engaging in friendly smal talk before a meeting starts. What these behaviors might earn you is a reputation for being “nice.” They do nothing for your social position—except
reduce
it.

Another common mistake is underestimating the value of status. People confuse status with charisma or ego, which are entirely different things.

And they mistakenly believe that working to raise one’s social value is foolish or just an act of peacocking. Nothing could be further from the truth.

Unless you are a celebrity, a tycoon, or the guy who just landed your company the largest deal it has ever done, in most cases you enter a new business setting with a low social position. The harder you try to fit into this social scene, the lower your perceived social value becomes.

Yet fitting in and having high social status are essential. Every interaction is affected by pecking order—who is the dominant group member and who are the subordinates. And the moment you enter a room to pitch is a beautiful example of how the social animal inside you works. In those first moments, the alpha and beta social positions are up for grabs. But it’s not a physical skirmish—it’s the rapid and sometimes instant assessment of each other’s social position. When it comes down to finding the alpha, nobody takes the time to draft a balance sheet of who owns the most assets, who commands the most wealth, and who is the most popular. It’s a subconscious and instant recognition of status.

Within seconds, we each need to decide, for the sake of our own self-preservation,
who in this room is the dominant alpha?
And if it turns out that someone else is the dominant alpha and we are the beta, there is a second, even more valuable question: In the short amount of time we have to orient ourselves in this social interaction,
can we switch out of the beta position and take the alpha?

People wil judge your social status almost immediately, and changing their perception is not easy. But it’s important because your social status is the platform from which you must pitch.

If you are pitching from a lower-level platform, or low social status, your ability to persuade others wil be diminished, and your pitch wil be difficult, no matter how great your idea or product. However, if you hold high social status, even on a temporary basis, your power to convince others wil be strong, and your pitch wil go easily.

What I am saying—and what I have proven to myself and to others—is that you can alter the way people think about you by creating
situational
status.
Let’s look at how situational status plays out in a familiar social structure, one we have al encountered at one time or another.

The French Waiter

French waiters are respected throughout the world for their skil in control ing social dynamics. From the moment you enter their world, they set the frame and control the timing and sequence events according to their wishes. They wipe your status instantly, redistribute it as they choose, and control the frame throughout the exchange. You regain control only after the check has been paid, the tip has been left, and you’re ushered out the front door.

I watched the waiters work their frame magic a few years ago on a bustling boulevard in Paris. I stopped in at Brasserie Lipp on the Boulevard Saint-Germain-des-Pres. My waiter was Benoit, who started there busing tables and washing dishes and moved his way up to head waiter. His father worked at this famous Left Bank
boîfite
before and after World War I , and today, there is nothing about the history of this place that Benoit does not know.

Benoit can show you the table where Ernest Hemingway did much of his writing during the 1920s and can seat you there if he is feeling generous (and senses that you wil be generous in return).

There is nothing Benoit cannot tel you about the menu—every dish, every ingredient, every method of preparation. But to ask questions about the menu is a mild insult. Instead, it’s better to ask him to recommend something. The same goes for the wine list, which is even longer than the menu.

This is his job. He is the expert within the wal s of his restaurant.

I entered Lipp’s with some friends I’d invited out for dinner. I was the host, so I carried myself with authority and high status. After al , I was the paying customer about to drop a big wad of cash. I wanted the maître d’ and waitstaff to understand my status and give me the best they had to offer. The maître d’ gave me a practiced look that said,
Yes, I know your kind. You’re all the same to me.

The restaurant was starting to get busy, but it was not ful . We wouldn’t have to wait long. The maître d’ looked down at his schedule and intoned,

“It wil be a few minutes while we prepare your table, monsieur. Please wait here.” Yet he didn’t move. He looked down, scribbled a note on his seating chart, and began to ignore me.

Fifteen minutes passed. I watched as the best tables began to fil . I looked at the maître d’, anxious, and he held up his index finger indicating
only a minute more.
I returned to my guests, defending my choice of restaurant and commenting on how good the food is.

“I promise you, it wil be worth the wait,” I told them.

Final y, when the right amount of time had passed, the maître d’ stepped away from his podium and said, “Madames et messieurs, your table is ready,” waving us toward our table with an open palm and outstretched arm.

He seated us, handed us menus, and told us that Benoit would soon arrive to take our orders. A trainee brought water and bread, smiled, and then disappeared.

Another 15 minutes ticked by before Benoit appeared, and the first thing he did was flash me a rebel ious look. “Do you know what you would like to drink?” he asked, looking at the hand-tooled leather-bound
carte du vin
(wine list) resting near my left hand. I didn’t recognize many wines on the list, so I played the part of good host and ordered an expensive bottle for the table.

This was Benoit’s opportunity to perform a smal but defiant act and to seize control of the high-status position, taking it away from me. You almost could hear the power transfer, clean and smooth, like the flip of switch:

“Hmm, monsieur, I do not think this wine is the best choice,” he grimaced, taking the wine list away from me.

Benoit turned the page and paused. I was embarrassed, and my face turned red. “While al the wines in our cel ar are fine wines, you must select a better pairing for this evening’s meal,” he said. He scanned our table, making eye contact with my guests, ignoring me.

He suggested various meals for my guests and, after several minutes, final y returned his attention to me. He flipped open the
carte du vin
, stabbing his index finger at a wine that would meet his standard. His recommendation was less expensive than the wine I had chosen. So I gave up on my selection and gave the nod to his.

“An excel ent choice, monsieur,” he announced to the table, pretending to the group that it was my knowledge—and not his—that resulted in the best choice. I was the butt of the joke, and my guests had a fun laugh.

Benoit flashed me a look that said,
This table is mine!

The wine arrived, and Benoit carried out the time-honored ritual of corking, testing, and decanting. He executed the steps with precision, tradition, and respect for his craft. My guests were in awe. Only when it had been established that the wine would meet his exacting standards did he offer me, the host, the first taste.

At this point, he could have served me stale vinegar, and I would have said that it was heavenly, just to save face.

I wasn’t sure whether I was angry with Benoit or just amused that he had turned me into a low-status dork. Benoit had simply and effectively grabbed
local star power.

He had captivated the attention of the table, and now, in ful possession of the social power that I once had, he decided to redistribute some of this power to further strengthen his position with my group.

As Benoit settled into a smooth rhythm of frame controls and status moves, I could see the game unfolding perfectly: acts of smal defiance; seizing status, redistributing it; taunting me to behave like a beta. I was at the center of a master class on frame control.

As the wine was poured around the table, one of my guests smel ed her wine and asked, “Is this a Bordeaux?” Benoit stood tal , placed a hand on her shoulder, and said, “Madame clearly knows French wine. This Bordeaux is from a smal
terroir
that most people mistake for Langedoc. Your palate is very sophisticated.” This comment absolutely melted her, and her eyes were sparkling with emotional pyrotechnics. The table was smiling, and again, I was ignored.

Let’s pause to review what Benoit, this practiced master of social frame control, had accomplished. First, he seized local star power by using simple, seemingly innocent and benign acts. And he isolated me by making me wait.

As I discussed earlier, the croc brain is a social organ that craves acceptance and belonging. No one likes being made an outsider, especial y when there are guests to impress.

Then, after ostracizing me, Benoit swooped in, using his superior domain knowledge, and made me look like a fool. He then quickly rescued me from a “mistake” he had al owed me to make.

He knew that without first understanding what kind of food the table would be ordering, it would be impossible to order the wine. And yet he asked me to make a wine selection first. No matter what I ordered, my order would be wrong.
Thanks, Benoit!