The old hands in the air force knew that if you
‘looked busy’ no one would bother you. Standing
or wandering about, with a clipboard and some sheets of paper really did allow you
to do whatever you wanted. It was the
ultimate in ‘sleight of hand.’ I was
taking this prestidigitation to an extreme.
The Station Commanders daily brief was at eight o clock every morning in
flight planning. He, the Station
Commander, and most of the operational Wing Commanders, would get together and
produce their actual statistics and projected statistics for combat availability. Someone would have to collate all this
information and then send off a double top secret signal to command. I would probably be breaking the official
secrets act if I told you who had to do this every morning before nine o clock,
but someone like that would probably have the most loveliest legs in Ireland.
Using the clipboard technique I uncovered an ancient
duty for flight planning where whoever was in charge of flight planning had to
visit the squadrons, on a regular basis, and make sure all their charts and documents
were up to date. Then there were the Q
Sheds, which was another secondary duty I didn’t give up, as being an inventory
holder allowed me a lot of scope, especially getting stuff for the Shotley
drama group. So I would often have to
visit them and make sure they hadn’t been stolen. And don’t forget the Station Commanders
briefing room in station headquarters, where I would have to put together and
coordinate slide shows which took an awful amount of time.
Basically once the stations senior management team
had ‘left the building’ so to speak, the day was my own and I could do what I
wanted, which was mainly get into Ipswich and learn as much about sales as I
possibly could. I promise you, most days
I was in Ipswich before lunch time. The
basic training at Bournemouth was a sort of general introduction to the actual
products that Abbey life sold. It was
simple and straight forward, although not everyone thought so. The South African ex-army policeman type didn’t
think so, for first thing on the second morning he had been asked to leave the
course. One factor for his dismissal was
spending the night in the police cells but the second factor was the vicar with
the mascara.
What we were not aware of is that he was on the
course too. Now I promise you, my focus
was on getting some sales experience which would help me take up my position
with Tim Hirschman and get back home to Ireland. I had been quick and willing enough to judge
all my fellow air traffickers so why wasn’t I applying the same criteria to
these sales people? It was a bit of a surprise
arriving in the training suite to see the vicar sitting in reception. I wasn’t worried in the slightest as I knew I
hadn’t done anything wrong. Graham, as
you may have expected, had told everyone else on the course that he had sorted
the problem out. I was asked to go to
the general manager’s office for ‘a chat’ and was pleasantly surprised to find
that the guy was an ex air force squadron leader so we spoke the same language
and the whole thing was forgotten about.
Unfortunately, and it’s something I have
learned to live with, especially when you are cursed with having the loveliest
legs in Ireland, Graham wasn’t the only one seeking my attention for the
remainder of the week. Back in Ipswich I
was to be taught the ‘art’ of selling. I
was quite amused with the terminology they were using and couldn’t understand
what could be so hard about selling stuff.
There was a small group of about four or five of us and we were sitting
around a circular desk. We were each
given a telephone, a telephone book, a sheet of paper and a pen. Jack, the branch manager was in charge of the
training.
“Right,” says Jack. “Open the telephone book at a random page.” We all did.
“Place your finger anywhere on one of the pages.” We did.
“Now, telephone that number and get an appointment to go visit them.” I know I froze, I don’t know about the others,
but we all had our finger on a number and we all knew how to use a telephone
but I promise you, no one was dialling.
Jack then took one telephone and using the receiver smashed the thing to
pieces. “It’s only a bit of plastic!” he
was shouting. “What is there to be
afraid of?” It was interesting because I
don’t think I was afraid, I was thinking more along the lines of what do I
say? That was my introduction to cold
calling. I didn’t mind it and believe it
or not the whole process had a mathematical formulae attached to it. Any sales person telephoning you is working
to a set of figures.
I can’t remember the exact figures, but it was
something along the lines of if you cold call twenty people you will get five appointments
from which you will get either one or two sales. And another aspect of the job that I found
interesting was that you considered your earnings arse about face. You could actually, and by the way were encouraged
to, calculate how much you wanted to earn in that year and you could then break
that down into how many telephone calls you would have to make each day to
achieve that figure. There were other
ways of attracting people or encouraging them to invite you round for a cup of
tea and a chat.
I came in one day to see the guys screwing
freshly printed letters into balls then flatten them out, put them into envelopes
and put them in the post. The letters
were a form of cold calling but began with the line. In order to save you time and effort we have
pre crumpled this letter for you.
Another was to send out the second page of a letter, which would begin,
so you can see from the information I have provided that this scheme will be
extremely profitable for you. With this in mind I shall telephone within the
next day or two to arrange a convenient time for us to meet and discuss this
matter. The whole branch went to Cambridge
one day for a presentation from a bunch of motivational speakers and experts.
One fellow stood up and said that most people
were stupid, rather than chase them, using whatever method you chose; he had
the people chase him. Interesting, I
know. He said that rather than spend
half a day a week cold calling people and getting abuse, he opened a small
office in his local town and said that it would cost two hundred pounds to see
him, oh and book early for he was booked up.
He had a queue of people down the street waiting to see him. It certainly was an interesting approach; I
do remember that we were all on a high, bubbling with ideas, when we left
Cambridge. Jack actually made the coach
stop at a small country pub which he took over.
He was behind the bar serving drinks and I don’t think he had ever been
in the pub before. Money seemed to be no
object and most people were emulating the Harry Enfield character of Load’s of Money,
pulling out wads of cash and revelling in the Thatcher credo of self, self,
self.
Jack taught me a great deal about sales and how
to handle different situations. On one
Rank Xerox sales course some poor sod was brought out and was told that he had
to sell Jack one JCB digger. We had
listened to all the spiel, watched all the videos, graphs and statistics. Jack sat by the desk at the front, the guy came
in. “Hello,” said Jack. “Do you sell JCB’s?” “Yes,” said the guy. “Good,” says Jack.
“I want two.” The guy didn’t know
what to do. He had expected abuse or
some argument and he only wanted to sell one JCB. It was a lesson on being able to think on
your feet. But the most succinct approach
was how to deal with people who just didn’t want to buy. You may have been there; the salesman had
been with you for two hours. You’re bored
silly and just want them to leave. Jack told
us how to handle that.
As you moved through the meeting you should
have filled out all the details on the form.
You’ve asked time and time again if they would like to proceed, but they
keep coming up with excuse after excuse, maybe next month, let us think about
it, I’ll check some other companies. Jack
said, “Turn the form around, offer them a pen, and say ‘If you’ll just sign
here, I’ll get this set up for you.”
According to Jack they would explode with rage, but as they began
shouting at you, they would tell you exactly why they didn’t want to commit to
the sale which you would now address, turn around, complete the sale and come home
a happy boy.
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