Read Living the Significant Life Online
Authors: Peter L. Hirsch,Robert Shemin
Your Body Language
Body language represents 55 percent of your communication. There are so many aspects of body language you can mirror: people’s gestures, posture, relationship to the surrounding space, breathing, touch, movement, facial expression, and much more.
As you begin to mirror and match another person’s body language—hand movements in gestures, facial expressions, posture, distance of standing and sitting in relation to you—you’ll discover an amazing thing. You will actually begin to feel the way the other person is feeling.
Stop, Look, and Listen
The importance of mirroring and matching is that it tells us something interesting about our habitual communication styles: most of us talk too much!
It’s true. People generally talk much more than they listen, but we actually learn only when we’re listening; we learn nothing by talking. We’ve heard it many times before: the Talmudic teaching that we’ve been given two ears and one mouth because we’re supposed to listen twice as much as we talk has a lot of merit.
If you’re going to succeed in any relationship or business enterprise, you’ve got to care about people. Perhaps you’ve heard the expression “People won’t care about how much you know till they know how much you care.” It is quite true, and the best—and quickest—way in the world to show people how much you care is by listening.
There is nothing more effective for raising people’s self-esteem, self-confidence, and self-worth than showing them we care, and we do this primarily by listening—
really
listening.
That isn’t as easy as it might sound. Focusing on another person means shutting down everything on your own list, paying complete attention and hearing every word the other person says. Some people call this “listening without an agenda.” It means setting aside your own concerns, your evaluation in process of that person and what he or she is saying, and simply listening.
There’s a great expression that speaks directly to this point: “The mind is like a parachute: it’s of no use unless it’s open.”
Listening to people openly—not thinking about what you are going to say next—without the inside-the-mind comments is the most effective way to show people you care, and it’s the very best way in the world to learn and encourage.
Make a commitment to be aware of the importance of listening to people. Be aware of body language—yours and theirs. When appropriate, lean forward, smile, and put interest and attention in your eyes. This lets people know that you are fully present with them and are invested in their self-worth (as well as your own); it affirms their importance to you and gives them confidence in you.
It is vitally important to let people feel safe in opening up to you—and the best way to do that is by asking questions.
The Right Questions
There are two types of questions: open-ended and closed. Open-ended questions can lead to all sorts of places and open up possibilities. Closed questions lead nowhere. They ask for nothing more than one specific answer—usually yes or no. They are like emotional short circuits.
We gain very little information from closed questions: “Well, Bob, did you like the training?”
Whether Bob answers, “Yes, I did,” or “No, not really,” the conversation still goes
clunk!
You really haven’t moved forward at all. This is because closed questions are not structured to reveal people’s genuine desires. Open-ended questions do just that: “Bob, what was the best part of the training for you?”
It is only when you understand other people’s desires that you will be able to see how you can benefit them. Always remember that’s what people care about: how you can benefit them, what your value is to them.
The worst mistake that anyone who deals with people can make is to talk facts, figures, and statistics. Nobody really cares about them. People want benefits, and benefits alone. People are after value—we are all value-driven homing devices.
Last year hundreds of thousands of refrigerators were sold in the United States. And guess what? Not one person actually
wanted
a refrigerator!
What they really wanted was fresh food, cold food, and frozen food. They wanted the convenience of food stocked up near them so they could fix meals without having to go out to shop every day. They wanted the
benefits
that a refrigerator would bring them: fresh vegetables, food that lasts longer, cool drinks, ice cream, and so forth.
Do you know how many drill bits are sold every year in this country? Millions. Do you know what every one of those drill-bit buyers is really after? They don’t want drill bits. They want holes.
When you ask questions, ask those that give you the greatest opportunity to really listen; questions that cause people to tell you what they want, what their feelings are; questions that reveal their desires and how you can help them achieve them.
Asking open-ended questions also provides you with a fringe benefit: you will find yourself living everyday life with much more interest and involvement. People are like snowflakes: there are no two exactly alike. If you give people time and attention, if you listen to them, and if you reveal their desires, they will open up to you. They will come into partnership with you in a combined effort to achieve all of your goals and theirs as well. That kind of powerful, inspiring relationship with others is a major key to success and happiness.
“Mom! Mom!
Mom!
”
Justin burst into the house like a freight train. He’d run all the way from the bus stop at breakneck speed and now tore through the house, looking for his mother.
“I’m in the kitchen,” his mother, Christine, called, but Justin was already flying into the room.
“Igettogotospacecamp! Igettogotospacecamp!” he said.
“What? Slow down.”
“I get to go to space camp! The one where you get to spend a whole week learning about space and astronauts and planets, and I get to go!”
Justin had been fascinated by space for years. It had started simply enough when he’d received a book about the planets for his fifth birthday. He’d looked through the photos and illustrations over and over, and the book had become mandatory reading each night before he went to bed. Although he wasn’t able to read most of the words, it hadn’t been long before he’d memorized the entire text. More books followed, plus toy rockets, astronaut Halloween costumes, and a collection of posters that covered the walls of his bedroom. Now, at age nine, he knew more about the solar system than most adults, and he followed every space shuttle mission like a religion.
“Okay, hold on a minute,” Christine said. “Slow down and explain this to me.”
Justin took a deep breath. “Okay. You know my science teacher, Mrs. Kirwin?” He paused, waiting for confirmation that his mother did indeed know his teacher.
“Yes, I know Mrs. Kirwin,” Christine said with a smile.
“Okay. Well, she’s organizing a trip to space camp this summer. You have to be at least nine to go, and now that we’re nine, we’re old enough.”
“This trip is for your whole class?”
“Yeah, anybody who wants to go. Well, I guess not anybody. She can only take fifteen kids, so the first fifteen who sign up get to go.” He reached into his backpack and pulled out a manila envelope. “Here, you have to read this stuff, and you and Dad have to fill out some papers. I can go, right? Please?”
“Well, your dad and I have to read this information and see how much it costs, but it sounds like a good opportunity.”
“Okay, you’ll talk about it as soon as he gets home?”
“We’ll look at the papers after dinner, I promise.”
“Great. I’m going to call Nick and tell him I can probably go.”
“Okay, but homework starts in fifteen minutes,” Christine said, but Justin had already disappeared from the kitchen.
During dinner, Justin chattered animatedly about his upcoming adventure. He’d looked up information about the camp online and learned about the activities for his age group. “We get to learn all about Mars and pretend that we really go on a trip there,” he said. “We get to do experiments and collect rocks and other stuff. And we get to meet a real astronaut. I’m going to tell him that I’m going to be an astronaut, too.”
Later that evening, Justin’s father, Steve, found his wife sitting at the kitchen table with the papers about the trip spread out in front of her. “How does it sound?” he asked.
“It sounds great,” Christine replied. “Two teachers will be going, so it’s well supervised, and the program sounds like something Justin would really love.”
“And the big question: How much does it cost?”
“The fee is eight hundred dollars, but listen to this. The kids have to earn the money before they can go. Parents aren’t allowed to foot the bill directly.”
“Well, that’s a first,” Steve said with a laugh. “How is a nine-year-old supposed to earn eight hundred dollars?”
“The school is organizing several fundraising opportunities for them. Selling wrapping paper, selling poinsettias for Christmas, selling those discount coupon books for restaurants, several things like that.”
“That’s a lot of selling, especially for a shy kid like Justin.”
“What’s a lot of selling?” asked Justin as he came into the room.
“We’re talking about your trip,” Christine said. “You and the other kids have to earn the money before you can go. Parents aren’t allowed to just pay for it. I guess they think it will make you appreciate it more.”
“What do I have to do?” Justin asked. His demeanor changed rapidly as his mother explained the fundraisers. “Who would I sell all that stuff to?”
“You could go door-to-door in the neighborhood, maybe call the parents of your friends who don’t want to go on the trip, ask people at church.”
“Can’t you guys just give the money and say I earned it?”
“Sorry, kiddo,” Steve said. “You have to turn in the information about who bought your stuff, and besides, that wouldn’t be honest, would it?”
“I guess not,” Justin said.
Several days later, Christine was putting Justin’s lunch into his backpack when she saw a thick envelope inside. Pulling it out, she discovered that it was the sales packet for the wrapping-paper drive.
“Justin, how long have you had this?” she asked.
“A couple of days, I guess.”
“We need to get started on this right away.”
Justin didn’t say anything.
“What’s wrong? You still want to go to space camp, right?” Christine asked.
“Sure, but I don’t want to sell all that junk. It’s going to be hard, and I don’t like talking to adults.”
“I’m an adult. You don’t have any trouble talking to me.”
“You’re my mom. That doesn’t count. I have to go before I miss the bus.”
“Okay, we’ll talk more about this tonight. Have a good day.”
That evening, Steve and Christine sat down with Justin and his sales packet. As they made a list of the people he could approach, Justin looked like he was being tortured.
Christine put her hand on her son’s shoulder and spoke quietly. “Look, honey, I know how hard it is for you to do things like this, but sometimes we have to do things that are hard for us. It’s just part of life. You’re getting older, and you need to start learning that if you want something badly enough, you have to work for it, even if it means doing something that makes you uncomfortable.”
“Your mom’s right,” Steve said. “You’ve wanted to go to space camp since the day you found out it existed. Now you’ve got a chance to go. I guess the question is, how badly do you want it?”
“Real bad,” Justin admitted. “More than anything.”
“Then I guess you’re going to have to prove that by working for it,” Steve said.
“What would I say to people? I don’t know how to sell stuff,” Justin said.
“We’ll help you figure out what to say. And maybe we should start with somebody easy, like your grandfather. You don’t have any trouble talking to him, and it would be good practice,” Steve said.
“Do you think Grandpa needs wrapping paper? He usually just gives us money on our birthdays.”
“I think he wants his grandson to go to space camp,” Steve said with a smile.
Ten minutes later, Justin had made his first sale. “I’ll take five rolls,” Christine’s father had said. “You pick out some paper you think I’d like, and I’ll stop by with a check tomorrow.” That had been easy.
Justin’s confidence didn’t last long. His grandfather was easy to talk to. Other people would be hard.
“How badly do you want to go, Justin?” Steve asked again. “Five rolls of wrapping paper won’t get you to space camp. Tomorrow you’re going to have to go around to the neighbors and start asking them.”
Christine’s heart broke for her son. She knew what it was like to be shy, but she also knew how much space camp meant to him. This was a perfect opportunity for him, and he’d be sorry later if he let it pass. Maybe there was a way to ease him along gradually.
“I’ve got an idea,” she said. “How about if we start with something easier than going door-to-door? Your school directory has e-mail addresses for most of the parents. What if we sent an e-mail to some of the parents of kids in the other grades? Your dad and I could help you write it. You’d explain what you’re selling, tell them about the trip to space camp and how much you want to go, and ask if they’re interested in seeing your wrapping paper catalog. If they are, you can arrange a time to go over and show it to them. That way, when you got to their houses, they’d already know why you were there, and you wouldn’t have to explain it to them. Would that make it easier?”
“Yeah, I guess I could do that,” Justin said.
By bedtime, Justin had e-mailed his sales pitch to about two dozen parents. He went to sleep looking at his posters and thinking that he might get to space camp after all.
Arriving home from school the next day, Justin eagerly went to the computer and found several responses to his e-mail. A few politely said they didn’t need any wrapping paper, but five people said they were interested and invited him to come over with his catalog. His excitement turned to dread when he realized what he had to do next: phone five strangers, then go to their houses and talk to them in person.
“Don’t worry,” Christine said. “I’ve got this handled.”
She sat down with Justin and helped him write a short script: “Hello, this is Justin Finch. Thank you for answering my e-mail about the wrapping paper. I really want to go to space camp, and this will help me a lot. Could I come over tomorrow after school and show you the catalog?” After practicing his spiel a few times, he made the first call, then the other four. He had five appointments.
The following afternoon, Christine was waiting when Justin got home from school. They spent a few minutes practicing the conversations he might have with his customers, then headed out to the car, where Justin found a bag on his seat.
“It’s for you,” Christine said. “Open it.”
Justin opened the bag and pulled out two books. The first one,
A Complete History of the American Space Program
, was beyond his reading level, but he didn’t care. It was filled with photos tracing every development in the country’s space exploration efforts, and a pocket in the back held a DVD with eight hours of footage. The second book was
Careers in Space.
This one was much closer to his reading level, and it described a wide range of career choices in the aeronautics and space industries. Justin planned to become an astronaut, but some of those engineering jobs looked pretty cool, too.
“Thanks, Mom!” he said.
“You’re welcome,” Christine replied. “Here’s what I’m thinking. The only way you’re going to get to space camp next summer is by selling enough wrapping paper and other things to earn the money, and the only way you’re going to do that is by wanting it badly enough. I know how hard this is for you, but I also know how much you want this trip, so I thought these books might be a good reminder for you. You can look through them while we’re driving to your customers’ houses and think about how much fun you’ll have at space camp, especially since you’ll be going with your friends and Mrs. Kirwin. Every time you have to call someone and ask them to buy something, or go to the neighbors’ houses, or approach people at church, you can use the books to remind you about what you’re working for and how much you want it. Do you think that might help?”
“Yeah, maybe so. You’re pretty smart, Mom.”
“Remember that when you’re a teenager,” Christine said with a laugh.
When Justin returned to the car after visiting his first customer, Christine asked, “How did it go?”
“Good. She was real nice and she bought four rolls,” he said as he clicked his seat belt into place and picked up one of his books. “I told her I’d be back when we get the order forms for those poinsettia things.”