Remember the fundraisers when you were in high school or the Scouts? You had to sell chocolate bars, cookies, magazines or coupon books.
You didn't want to look like a loser, so you pleaded with your parents for help. That was good for that first year, but come year two your parents didn't seem so caring; it actually made you begin to wonder if you were adopted.
I remember in my junior year we had to sell three packs of Betsy Ross chocolate bars, and it was the first time my parents flat out told me, "No, we are not going to help." (I always knew my sister was their favorite.)
I thought "Wow, are you kidding me? I'm your flesh and blood!" But my father told me to get off my butt and go sell them. It sounded easy enough so I started with the soft touches, the sure things: family, neighbors and friends.
To my shocked disbelief, when they saw me coming up the walk with the box of candy, they purposely did not answer the door! Even though we could literally see each other through the window, my grandmother didn't move a muscle.
I had to change my strategy. It was time to venture out into lands unknown (well not really, just a couple of more blocks from where I lived), where clueless people would unknowingly open their doors. Then boom, before they knew what hit them, I'd launch into that killer sales pitch the candy company rep drilled into us: "Hi, I'm selling chocolate bars to raise money for my school, would you like to buy one?"
The answer was always a swift and piercing "No!", and then just before closing the door, they gave me that look — you know, the one that silently tells you you're a loser.
After 23 straight rejections (more times than I was turned down for the junior prom) I began to feel, dare I say it, like a loser!
Then one dreary, depressing night after my father still wouldn't buy from me, he took me aside to share the secret to selling. At this point I was desperate. I had lost my self-respect; my girlfriend was not taking my calls and my grandmother was still pretending she wasn't home.
My father said, "Stop trying to sell them and start having a conversation. Ask them about their day, their kids, anything. Then when the time is right, tell them about what you're doing and why." Simple advice, but it changed everything. The next day I sold out. Not because I had a better pitch, but because I started treating people like people, not targets.
That's the secret that 90% of salespeople never learn. Selling isn't about the pitch, the close, or the objection handling. It's about connecting with another human being. Once you do that, the rest takes care of itself.