Earlier this week, a client contacted me and made a simple, straightforward request: She asked for a program I don’t offer. I’m not trained in this particular topic; I don’t write about it, and I don’t deliver modules on it. My mind had a field day with that request. First, I thought about renaming their request:
“Well, I have a program that is kind of similar to this request that deals with prospecting. Maybe I should tell this client that’s what she really needs.”
The request was not for a prospecting module, but my instinct was simply not to give up. Maybe I could find something related that I felt comfortable delivering. Thank goodness I didn’t give in and sell something that was not what the client was asking for. However, my mind wasn’t allowing me to say “no” quite yet. Then I thought about discounting their request:
“You don’t really need a module like that. After all, most people know how to do what you are requesting. They don’t need a module telling them what they already know!”
The fact is that the module she was requesting is something that certain clients can benefit from, but it’s not my specialty. I was very glad I didn’t discount their request and tell them this was something they didn’t need! Oh, my Jolles mind is extremely competitive, and stubborn. Finally, the most dangerous thought of all raced through my mind: I thought about telling the client I could do it.
“Why sure, I can do that. Why I practically wrote a book on that subject. I’m a walking encyclopedia, and people call me a subject matter expert on this issue… yea, that’s the ticket!”
All three of those thoughts are natural, particularly for someone like me, who is bred to compete. I don’t like losing. I don’t even like using the word “losing.” But I also have to be aware of my competitive streak, and I have to watch out for that “I can do anything” attitude that can get in the way. I ended up telling the client:
“This is something I don’t do, and I will never promise you that I can do something I am not trained to do well. I’ll tell you what I can do; I can make a few calls, and see if I can find the best person to do this job for you.”
How often are you faced with little moments of truth similar to this one? How many times do we try to obtain someone’s business, even when we know we really aren’t the best person for the job? Isn’t it more important to let the client know that we are looking out for their best interests, and we can be trusted? Isn’t it more important to let the client know that we are valuing their confidence in our word over valuing the short-term benefits of obtaining their business? They sound like such simple questions, but the truth is our instincts can often cloud our judgment… particularly in a difficult economy. It’s always interesting to notice how much tougher this issue is when we really need the business.
Some years ago, I gave into the temptation of listening to the voices in my head that blurred the line between what I could do, and what I almost could do. I was pushed into a presentation by a client, who doubled my rate, to convince me to teach a subject I knew little about.
Read that last sentence again. It sounds like I was some kind of victim, which is exactly what the voice will tell you. “You were pushed into it – they doubled your rate and convinced you – they had you teach a subject you knew little about.” Oh, and, “If it doesn’t work, it will be their fault.” Of course, that’s not how the game works. If you tell a client you can do something, and you fail to live up to that commitment, it’s no one’s fault but your own. I gave that presentation some years ago, and it was clearly not my best work. At the end of the day, isn’t it our best work that we want to be known for?
So take it from a subject matter expert: Please understand that every time you make a promise to a client that you can do something, you have to back up your promise with a top notch job. You have one priceless asset that outweighs all of the little voices in your head hoping for business: Your reputation.