I met with Andy today.  Barely hidden beneath his usual cheeriness, stress crackled like static electricity.  A lateral hire at the partner level, he got his job on the expectation that he would bring in enough work to revive a failing practice.  He has been at it a year and has yet to deliver … anything. 

The rainmaker at one firm who can’t even raise a dust devil at another is seen fairly often in the professions.  Why?  When a client buys a professional service, she is buying the ability of a team to solve a serious problem.  She bases her perception of that ability on the reputation of the seller’s firm, on any past experience she has with the firm and on the trust she has in the word of the rainmaker. 

When the rainmaker moves to a new firm, a lot changes.  If not better or worse than the old firm’s, the reputation of the new one is at least different.  The rainmaker may praise the abilities of his new one, but the client knows he was singing a different melody just yesterday, and, rightly is skeptical.  Many will prefer to wait and see, before taking a chance on the new arrangement.

Rainmakers tend to be optimists who overrate their own importance in the buyers’ weighting of factors in their hiring decisions.   The inability to sell to their old clients comes as a devastating surprise.  When that occurs, the rainmaker often loses focus and seeks to sell a broader array of services or recommends the latest miracle marketing service that will get him better meetings or jumps to another firm in hopes that it will go better there.

I don’t want Andy to fall into any of these traps.  In his case I think he should stay the course.  That’s because the input measures are favorable. He is having more meetings with the right people on the right subjects.  Selling is a numbers game. Get the inputs right and the probability that someone will buy grows.  I think he is near a breaking point on several pursuits.  I feel his success coming in my aging bones, as sure as spring follows winter.

It will take courage for Andy to stay the course.  I hope he does.  And I hope I am right and that luck starts to run his way.

A rainmaker has a large network that helps him generate leads and win more business. The value of a network of contacts grows geometrically with the size of the network. This is known as Metcalfe’s Law and is described in more detail in my book, Creating Rainmakers. Though it may interest you to understand the underlying logic and the mathematics (which are quite simple), you really need to know what it means on the ground during your ongoing efforts to sell your services. Though they happened in the air, two encounters I had in plane rides make the point nicely.

When I started my current firm, it was in a new field for me and I had to build a network of contacts almost from scratch. I had been in this business for maybe a year, when I was bumped up to first class on a flight from New York to California. My seat mate was a dignified looking gentleman in a fine grey, pinstriped suit that even my inexperienced eyes could tell didn’t come off the rack at Target.

We exchanged the normal civilities as we divvied up the space between us for our pre-flight drinks. We then both settled in to our individual affairs. I wanted to meet this man, but knew from experience not to move too quickly. Some time during the flight, we began a small conversation. I asked him where he worked and he named a huge media company. I asked what he did there, and he said, “I’m the president.” My mouth opened to say something, but nothing came out. I tried again and sill nothing came out. The conversation ended there. I had nothing to say to the man. I didn’t know anything about his company. I didn’t know much about the media business. A sudden shift of subjects into sports or politics would have seemed odd, and I know almost as little about sports as I do about the media business. I opened my mouth one more time, and once again nothing came out. Some people would have found a way, but I am shy and introverted and I had nothing more to say.

Fast-forward about eleven years, after I had been in this business of showing others how to sell professional services long enough to build a large network. Again I was bumped up to first class on another flight from New York to California. As I sat down, my seat mate was reading USA Today opened full width so that the left page stretched over a bit over the arm rest and into my space. The main article announced the departure of a celebrity CEO from her company. I observed this news by saying, “Oh, she’s out,” to which my seatmate responded, “Yes, and I have nothing to say on the subject.”

Now, that was an advertisement. The man meant that though the world would like to hear his views of the subject, given who he is, he was not prepared to share them. A conversation with this man was easy to start. And here is where the magic of having a large network began. The man was the president for North America of a large biotech firm, so I began to ask about professionals serving that industry. Within ten minutes we had identified four people we knew in common that his firm used and who had been my clients. I had spent the morning with one of them. Another he thought so highly of that he wished she would call more often. Another had a project with his firm that was in trouble, and he said he would be reluctant to hire them again. We talked briefly about the book he was reading and then went back to our individual affairs, talking again only briefly during landing.

The information he had given me provided reasons to call all four people, strengthening my relationship with each one. I was also able to send a book to this man on a topic of interest to him, so strengthening that tenuous relationship. I could do none of this eleven years earlier; my network wasn’t large enough.

And that is why a person with a big network does better at finding new clients, than does someone with a small one. So, how many people will you meet this month and where will you meet them?

I recently gave a speech to a group of architects during which I referred to a structural engineer, whom many of us knew. One of the architects corrected me, saying, “He’s not really an engineer, though. He’s a salesman.” “Yes,” I agreed, “he certainly is a big rainmaker for his firm. But why do you say he’s not an engineer?” “Because he’s not practicing his profession,” said the architect. To which I responded curtly, “Yes, he is . . . at the highest level.” We looked each other in the eye and then decided not to have that argument and went on to other subjects. Pity. If we had argued, we might have learned something.

So, instead of debating with the architect, I have done so with myself, as I often do. After winning and losing the argument from both sides several times, I called the engineer (or former engineer) in question and asked him what he thought. He was extremely busy and, I sensed, thought me either mad or with far too much time on my hands to be bothered by such an angels-on-pinhead issue. And he stunned me with his answer. He wasn’t sure, but leaned towards the view that he wasn’t a real engineer any more.

Instead of a definitive answer, I came away with a second question, is it important whether an engineer or actuary or architect or accountant or lawyer or consultant is practicing her profession when selling? I find it best to deal with these questions simultaneously.

The first question comes down to what practicing your profession means. The simplest definition is using one’s specialized education and training in a specific area to solve a problem. 

The answer to the second question—is it important whether or not selling is practicing your profession—depends, of course on your point of view. Here is mine:

One of the pernicious aspects of the professions is the pecking order among specialists. This is, arguably, most egregious among architects, where designers look down on project architects, who look down on construction administrators, who look down on specifiers. Name a famous architect and it will be a designer.

Pecking orders exist in other professions, too. Strategy consultants outrank all other types of management consultant, for example. Trial lawyers outrank other litigators, who are effective at negotiating settlements. Structural engineers outrank their more common brethren, the civil engineers.

In some professions, like architecture, the rankings remain rigid over time. In others, the rankings have changed. Over the past twenty years, the prestige of mergers and acquisitions attorneys has risen from the dregs of the profession to one of the most acclaimed specialties. The status of the general counsels, working inside a corporation, has also risen over the years, as the corporations have given them more power.

There are two strong arguments I can make for saying that a professional who sells her firm’s services is practicing her profession. First, she uses that education and the knowledge she has gained from experience to understand the client’s business issue, translate into a set of technical needs, assemble a team that has the right set of technical abilities to address those needs, and then with the team, develops an affordable solution to the business problem. She may not work at a drawing table or CAD machine, she may not write briefs or argue a case in front of a judge, or do many of the other tasks which she studied in school to earn a professional degree. To say that doing this is not practicing a profession is like telling a pianist that he is not really a musician, because he composes music.

The second argument for including rainmakers among those who practice their profession is based on an analogy. If a general counsel or in-house architect is still considered to be practicing her professions, then logic dictates that professionals who sell their firms’ services are, too. One is the buyer and one is the seller. Both buyer and seller use their technical knowledge to structure and negotiate the transaction. Why should the person on one side of the deal be considered to be practicing her profession and the other not? The general counsel doesn’t plead cases before a judge or write contracts and the in-house architect doesn’t design buildings any more than the professionals who sell do. But they do use the specialized knowledge in other ways.

To say that a professional is no longer practicing her profession, because she makes her contribution to the firm by selling, is not only inaccurate, it is harmful. It is pernicious, because the person who says that selling isn’t practicing a profession is attributing a professional inferiority to sellers and is most likely justifying his own sales ineffectiveness on the grounds of professional purity. He is saying, “I studied to be an architect and want to remain one, so, of course I can’t sell anything.” This form of elitism is not good for the speaker nor for the one who has supposedly given up his profession. Because I like a good rant from time to time and because I feel a passion about this subject, I want to say, :”Stop being such an ineffectual dweeb and be a real architect (or actuary, accountant, engineer …) and sell something.”

Maybe it’s just as well that the architect and I didn’t have that argument after all.

There is a lot of good information about trusted advisor relationships, including the excellent book, entitled Trusted Advisor by David Maister, Charlie Geen and Rob Galford.  Another good book, Clients for Life, by Jagdish Seth and Andrew Sobel, deals with the subject without using that term.  Blogs, such as www.trustedadvisor.com  and www.davidmaister.com/blog/ are devoted to the subject or deal with it frequently and other blogs and ezines mention it sporadically.  It’s a worthwhile subject.
 
All of these sources provide commentary and advice, most of which can be reduced to one sentence, If you want to be a trusted advisor, act in a trustworthy way and know your stuff.  Living our lives by this simple dictum isn’t easy.  It is no wonder that whole books can be written on the subject and should be.  I will call this the behavior model and I don’t reduce all this material to a mere sentence with any desire to disparage it.  Rather, I want to contrast it with another approach to becoming a trusted advisor which doesn’t fall within the broad cover of this sentence.

I am referring to the age model.  The one-sentence reduction of this approach is: If you know your stuff and stay in touch with clients who are clearly rising stars and who are five to ten years younger than you, you have a good chance to become their trusted advisor in five, ten or more years.  I don’t have proof to support this, but I do have lots of anecdotal evidence.  For the past few years I have asked the rainmakers I interviewed their ages and the ages of those who treat them as trusted advisors.  In the greater number of these relationships the advisor is older than the advisee.

There are a number of reasons for this to be the case. It is obvious if you ask a 65 year old rainmaker about the trusted advisor relationships he has today, he will cite more people younger than he is.  But, I don’t believe the bias toward older advisors is solely based on an age ceiling for advisees.

Several other beliefs I have support the age model.  For example, I believe that most people find it easier to accept advice from someone older than they are.  The five to ten year spread between advisor and advisee seems about right for the advisor to be able to understand the advisee’s world.

This is all supposition.  But there is also the nature of networks.  Most networks form a power curve.  To understand what that means, think of the distribution of income in any country.  A few people have wealth beyond imagination, a few more are very rich and a few more are just rich.  Then come the broad middle class and the poor.  The difference in income between the wealthy beyond imagination and the very rich is immense compared spread of income between the middle class and the poor.  A few get most the goodies in a power curve.

There a two ways to end up on have-it-all end of the curve.  The first is to be in the network longer than others.  Our old rainmakers meet that criterion.  The second is to be fitter at the job, meaning know your stuff.  The comfort of confiding in older mentors and other explanations are, then, just the behavior mechanism that creates the power curve.

None of this takes anything away from the behavior model and all the good work that Maister and Green and others have done.  It does provide another path for research that I hope someone follows.

For the professional seeking to develop more business it is an explanation of why rain making gets easier every year you do it.  Older rainmakers know this, but younger professionals either don’t know or don’t quite believe it.  I spend a lot of energy trying convince young professionals that it is true.  In any event, you can’t win if you don’t play.  So, get out there and learn your stuff and build your network, focusing a part of your attention on the up-and-comers in the client companies.

Oh, and one other thing . . . while you’re at it, grow old! 

Do you think you can handle this last part?   If you can, you may well end up a trusted advisor to some important clients.

The answer is a definitive maybe.  It depends on whom you are calling, why you are calling, and how many calls you have made previously over what time frame and on the reason for your call.  With this many variables to combine in different ways, there are thousands of different situations, each one requiring decision on whether or not to leave a call.  Let’s try some simplifying guidelines:

1. The bias is to leave a message. If you leave a messages, you remind the contacts that you are still out there thinking about them.  They see you in their minds eye, however briefly.  That is one thing you are trying accomplish by calling in the first place.  Within limits, people are not troubled by periodic messages, even if they don’t return them.  When you do finally reach them, most people apologize for not returning your call.  (The appropriate reply to such an apology is, “Oh, please don’t apologize.  I just hope my calls haven’t been a nuisance.”  Listen carefully to the response to this statement.)
2. When leaving a message, make clear how urgent the call is.Here are three sample messages: a) It’s not at all urgent, but if you . . . b) It’s not desperate urgent, but it would be a huge help if you can . . . c) If at all possible I would like to talk with you today. . . . Declaring the level of urgency helps avoid the discomfort of the contact seriously inconveniencing herself to return your call, only to find it was for some matter of little importance.
3. Leave a message which states clearly not to call you back if you know she won’t be able to reach you. This reduces her frustration and your discomfort, but still wins you a brief moment of connection.  (“It’s Ford Harding.  I do have something I would like to talk with you about, but I am traveling, so you won’t be able to reach me.  I will call again when I get a break to see if I can catch you.)  This allows you to call back again later, and if your contact still doesn’t answer, you can leave another brief message again.  (It’s Ford Harding again.  I have a break, so I am trying to catch.  You won’t be able to reach me, so I will try again when I get another break.)
4. Assume that many contacts will know who called, even if you don’t leave a message.  Caller identification lets the contact know who is calling, whether you leave a message or not.
5. Do not leave a message when you have called several times over a short period and left messages already.
6. Leave no message when there is a clear probability that the call may be misinterpreted.Clear probability is a high standard.  Better than leaving no message is a statement that you are calling for some other reason.  (“This is Ford Harding.  I am not calling about the proposal.  We are hiring at an entry level and was hoping that with your university contacts, you might be able to suggest a candidate.”)

Different consultants, seeing the same client situation through different disciplinary lenses, can come up with strikingly different guidance. Three of us, all of whom consult to professional firms, thought it might be interesting to see how our different orientations influence the advice we would give to a client about the same topic: Things you shouldn’t say or do at a competitive presentation of your services to a potential client.

We are: a) presentation coach Sims Wyeth who can show a wet blanket how to set itself on fire when on a podium, b) marketing consultant, Suzanne Lowe, author of Marketplace Masters: How Professional Firms Compete to Win, who can get a burlap bag full of cats, dogs and canaries humming the same tune, and c) me. Our firm helps professionals becomer rainmakers.

I decided to establish criteria by which submittals (all from me) for inclusion in my list of Five Biggest Presentation Don’ts could be rated. To do the rating I assembled a committee of fifteen totally objective judges carefully selected to ensure inclusion of representative members by gender, education level, geography, political leanings, age, race and ability to hold their liquor. After assuring myself that all fifteen could meet the last criterion, I asked them to rate 114 entries for the things you shouldn’t say in a presentation of your services to a prospective client. Each submission was rated on three criteria, which are:

a) Relevancy: Thou shall not talk about things of no interest or importance to the client.
b) Redundancy: Thou shall not say things said by your competitors.
c) Believability: Thou shall not tell any whoppers, or anything that sounds like one.

Ranked from weak to laughable, the committee chose the following five things not to say:

1. We are organized into seven practices (or studios). Only one judge rated this entry, the others falling immediately into a deep sleep upon its being read to them. The insomniac judge’s mark was for lacking relevancy. As he dozed off, too, he muttered, “The client doesn’t care. Tell her about the part of the organization relevant to her and skip the rest.”
2. We want to be your partner on this matter. Three judges revived enough to give this claim three marks on believability. As one judge said, “The last time I tried that one, the client said, ‘Really? How much money do you plan to put up?’ This is just an inflated way of saying you’ll give good service.”
3. You will be our most important client. “I bet you say that to all the girls,” said one judge in falsetto. The other judges tittered quietly at that comment, while the funny one added his mark to five others on the basis of believability. Said another, “Even if it’s true, what will happen to your other clients, if I hire you? If a client comes along who is even prettier than I am, what happens to us.”
4. We are the oldest and largest . . . This got ten marks. The first six for being totally irrelevant. Again a judge said “The client doesn’t care.” To which I said, “What if there are many fly-by-night competitors in this field and you want to show you’re different from them?” “Then tell them that,” snapped a judge. “Say, ‘In a field where a lot of companies come and go, we are committed to being long term providers, and the age and size of our firm prove it.’” One judge also gave a mark each for redundancy and believability, saying, “I once attended competitive presentations where two firms claimed to be oldest and largest. Because their definitions of what they were oldest and largest of differed, both were telling the truth. The selection committee members weren’t impressed.”
5. What makes us special is our people. Every member of our totally objective panel rolled on the floor at this one. One laughed so hard, he rolled under the conference table, and we had to listen to his sporadic te-he-he’s for the rest of the meeting. The other judges marked this one down by 38 points, giving it the lowest score in recorded history. (I know, there were only fifteen judges, but they had become drunk with their power by this time and insisted they had to have more than one mark each to give this one the rating it deserved.) Thirty of these marks are for redundancy. One judge exclaimed “Don’t ever say those words! Don’t ever say them, because everyone does at every presentation!” She began to mimic presenters, saying the overworked words again and again in different tones of voice with mock sincerity, causing a howl of laughter once again. “Your people’s specialness must be in a way that is important to the buyer or he doesn’t care,” explained one. The final mark is for believability. The oldest judge said, “It sounds like so many warm words to me. I don’t want warm words. I want meat.”

We all adjourned to the cafeteria for lunch.

If you would like to submit additional things that shouldn’t be said or done in a presentation, Suzanne, Sims and I would be glad to pass them on to our totally objective board of fifteen judges for rating. To see a marketing expert’s choices for presentation don’ts, go to Suzanne Lowe’s blog. To see a presentation coach’s choices, go to Sims Wyeth’s blog.

How would you react, if the following happened to you over the course of a month as you tried to develop new business?

• Three unreturned phone calls to the same former client.
• Being stood up for meetings two weeks in succession.
• Learning that a former client has a new project only after it has been awarded to someone else.
• Four losses in a row to competitors.
• Realization that you have been calling and meeting with contacts at a large prospective client for a year without winning any business.

If you work at developing business long enough, you will have a month like this.  Events like these don’t bother rainmakers.  Where other people would blame themselves and get discouraged, rainmakers depersonalize such events.  They know that their luck will soon turn and they will start to win.

“You never know where the next piece of business is going to come from.”  I have heard those exact words from at least a dozen rainmakers I have interviewed over the years.  For all the targeting and prioritizing that we do when selling our services, there is still room for some healthy opportunism.  These unexpected opportunities remind us how imperfect our judgment is when picking targets and result in us winning some major assignments.  Here are three people who have unexpectedly given me opportunities and lessons to be learned from each.  Names have been changed.

Stephen

If you passed Stephen in the street, you wouldn’t notice him.  He is short, quiet and lacks pretension.  He seems shy by nature, though he engages easily one on one and has taught himself to work a room. 

I first met him doing just that at an association meeting.  There he focused on other people, getting them to talk about something that interested them, so that later, reflecting on the conversation, I was more likely to remember the person doing the talking, than to remember Stephen.

On the last day of the conference we found ourselves the first to arrive at a breakout room to hear some speaker I have long since forgotten.  He asked me questions and, like others I had seen the night before, I was soon talking about myself and finding it a pleasant subject, while he sat there quietly, a twinkle in his eye. He suggested that we get together some time after the meeting.

That was twelve years ago.  I didn’t believe then or for quite some time that his firm would hire us.  But it did.  It took him four years to get us in, but he did it. Since then he has become a friend.  I have boundless respect for this man, as do many others.  Still, if you put him in a crowd, he will become inconspicuous, almost as if he had protective coloration that helped him disappear into his surroundings.

Lesson:  Stephen is a reminder that substance is more important than show, something we all know, but need reminding of from time to time.  He is also a good example of how valuable it is to have a sponsor in a client organization.
 

Rachel

I also met Rachel at an event, this one sponsored by a team that consulted to law firms from a Big Four accounting firm.  Not having learned how to get a good seat at such an event (see posting of  June 2007, entitled Three Ways to Get a Good Seat.), I took pot luck by grabbing an unoccupied seat between two other participants.  Rachel sat on my left.  She worked at a mid-sized law firm as director of marketing.  The firm didn’t sound like one we would be eager to work for.  Still, she seemed a nice person, and to me that counts for something.

I sent her one of my books and called her a few times.  She wanted to bring us into her firm, but clearly lacked the influence to do so.  I put her into the call-twice-a-year category and went about my business.

Three years later, I answered the phone and it was Rachel.  She had moved to a prestigious firm and brought us in to what was a strategically important account.

Since then I have gotten to know her.  She has dealt successfully with things that would bring most people down, and remains irrepressibly optimistic.  She is truly heroic.  But it took me a long time to learn that.

Lessons:  People move around.  Someone who is a poor fit in one company may be a star at another.  You can’t always recognize a hero when you see one.
 

Jake

A partner at a large firm, Jake was under pressure to sell more work.  To help him, the firm put him into one of our programs, and I worked with him for six months.  He was openly skeptical, but did what we suggested.  He took direction, worked hard at developing business, and hung in there for six months.  But the business didn’t come.  Not long after our program ended all his hard work began to pay off.  I learned this from others and called to congratulate him, but he didn’t respond to my voicemail message, nor to any other message that I left him. 

I did a lot of work for his firm, and when I was in town would stop by his office.  When he was available, he was cordial, but undemonstrative, the conversation was stilted.  He left the firm and I called him at his new employer.  Again there was no response. I didn’t try again.

Last year I got a call from someone in his firm asking us to come pitch our services.  The oman said that Jake was among their most successful rainmakers and had recommended us.  One of my colleagues went for the sales call.  Jake introduced him to the assembled crowd, saying that if they followed our advice, they would eventually win work, that by following our teachings, he could confidently generate the revenues he was equired to, year after year.  We got the assignment and are still working with his colleagues.  With that kind of endorsement, it is no surprise.

I called to thank him, and we had another stilted conversation. Since then he hasn’t returned my calls.

Lessons:  I am reluctant to say, “Expect the unexpected,” because you might puke.  Other than that, all I can say is thank you, Jake.  You may not have returned my calls, but you were there for me when it counted.  To the rest of you, all I can do is point out that you never know where the next piece of work will come from.

Most of us are afraid to turn down a client, fearing that if we do, we will never have another chance. I did, too, until David told me the story of the Amazing Flip.

David worked for a creative firm that I will not describe in detail, in order to protect its identity. I will call it Cool & Awesome. The firm was founded on the belief that to have the best firm you had to hire and retain the best people and that to get the best people you had to offer them the most interesting work. This belief was put into practice by allowing any professional in the firm to turn down work she disliked. This meant that before anyone sold a project to a client, he had to make sure he could find people willing to do it. Each project had to be sold twice, once to the client and once to the firm’s professionals.

David, who is among the most accomplished rainmakers I know, was new with the firm and still adjusting to this peculiar two-way selling, when I first met him. One day an executive from a Fortune 100 company called to discuss several projects he want David’s firm to do. As he listened to the descriptions of the projects, David realized that he wouldn’t be able to sell them inside. Still, it wasn’t everyday he got a call from a company that big from an executive that senior. So, instead of telling him no over the phone David flew to the client’s city and took him to dinner.

Over dinner he told the client about the firm’s unusual practice of letting its professionals turn down work. “For any of them being willing to do it,” said David, “it either has to be technically challenging, have high visibility, or do significant good to society. I don’t think I can sell your projects internally. I think you would be better served by going to another . . .” Here, the client interjected, “Are you trying to say that our projects aren’t cool enough?” All David could do was shrug his shoulders.

A week later the man called David, asking to meet with several of the key members of the Cool & Awesome professional staff. The day of the meeting the man stood before the Cool & Awesome talent and put up his first slide. It read:

Why XYZ Corporation
Wants to Work With
Cool & Awesome
And Why
Cool & Awesome
Should Want
To Work With XYZ

That was the Amazing Flip: Roles had reversed. The client had become the seller and the professional firm had become the buyer!

Having learned that saying no can make you more attractive, rather than less, the very next week, I called a client and told them we would not be pursuing work with them that they had asked us to bid on. The client paused for a moment and then responded, “Well, if you don’t want to work with our New York teams, let me tell you how it would work in Boston.”

Flip!

To finesse a sale is to maneuver around facts that might hurt your chances of winning the prospective client’s business were she to know the whole truth. Those who know the term use it to describe words or acts which are legal but deceptive. We can legitimately call finessing a sharp practice. Or is it?
The Lowest-Common-Denominator Finesse (hereafter referred to as “the LCD Finesse”) is, perhaps, the most common. Many a rainmaker uses this finesse effectively to win work. They use it most often to make past client work seem relevant to the current prospect when she might not see it that way, if she knew the whole truth. If we are selling to a bank and have limited experience with banks, we might describe work we did at an insurance company as being for “another large financial institution.” When talking with a prospective client from a Zurich-based bank about work we did for a pharmaceutical company based in Geneva, it becomes “another large Swiss company.” By this logic, hotels and airlines are lumped together as travel-based businesses.

A little of this is innocent enough. After all, the descriptions we give are true. But we are withholding information which might make the client uncomfortable with our credentials. How far can this go before we cross the line into unethical behavior? Years ago, while pitching to a precision aircraft parts manufacturer, I referred to a former client in an anecdote as “another metalworking company.” This was an exceedingly low common denominator. The company in my story made the metal straps that tie goods to pallets to for shipping. The two companies had almost nothing in common, and the aircraft parts manufacturer would almost certainly have discounted my story, if I had told him the whole truth.

But the story did have a message, one important for the client to hear and that was relevant to his situation. Was I wrong to tell the story in a way that made it compelling to him? I am not sure. Would it have been better to tell it in a way that made the differences between his company and the one in the story blatantly clear and in doing so risk his rejection of a point that was imprortant for him to hear? That doesn’t feel right either. I can say that we did use the LCD in the story we told, he hired us and later provided us with a good reference many times.