Way of the Wolf: Straight Line Selling: Master the Art of Persuasion, Influence, and Success

And, with that, the prospect has set themself up to gracefully bow out of the sale, while the salesperson, if they were naïve enough to buy into this charade, has not only eliminated any chance of closing the deal but has also been set up for massive pain when they start dialing through the list of callbacks, which consists of people who had no intention of buying in the first place.

Before we move on, I just want to dispel any notion you might have that Straight Line’s strategy for handling objections is going to promote, support, or even remotely recommend the use of high-pressure sales tactics in any way whatsoever.

Simply put, it won’t.

See, what I was talking about before was something entirely different—namely, that it serves both the prospect and the salesperson to be honest and forthright with each other during a sales encounter, and that anything else is a complete waste of time.

With the Straight Line System, we don’t leave a crucial outcome like honest communication up to chance. We ensure it by making it the sole responsibility of the salesperson, and then providing him or her with a bulletproof formula to achieve that outcome every time.

So, with that, let’s go back to that very Tuesday evening, when the idea for the Straight Line System came bubbling into my brain. Coincidentally, it was the subject of handling objections that first got me thinking about a better way to train salespeople, and that led me to that groundbreaking statement that every sale is the same.

At precisely 7 p.m., the meeting started.

It was a meeting that would change the lives of millions of people all over the world, rich and poor alike, and create more top sales producers than every other sales training system combined.

2

INVENTING THE STRAIGHT LINE

“I’M READY TO GO ALL night,” I said to the Strattonites threateningly, and slowly I locked eyes with each and every one of them and let each feel the full weight of my stare. They were sitting behind old wooden desks, arranged classroom-style, and on each desktop sat a cheap black telephone, a gray-colored computer monitor, and a stack of maybe a hundred three-by-five index cards that I’d purchased from Dun & Bradstreet for 22 cents a piece. Each of these cards had the name and phone number of a wealthy investor on it, along with the company they owned and its annual revenue for the prior year.

To Danny and me, these D&Bs, as they were called, were as valuable as gold—with every two hundred cards yielding ten qualified leads, from which we would open between two or three new accounts. And while those numbers might not sound overly impressive, any broker who did that for three straight months would be on pace to make over $2 million per year; and if he did it for a year, he’d be on pace to make more than triple that.

Unfortunately, the Strattonites’ results hadn’t been quite as impressive. In fact, they’d been downright awful. For every two hundred D&Bs they dialed through, they were averaging only five leads, and from those five they were closing an average of . . . no one.

Ever.

“So you might as well get comfortable,” I continued, “because we’re not going anywhere until we figure this out. So let’s start by getting brutally honest. I want you guys to tell me why you’re finding it so hard to close rich people, because I really don’t get it.” I shrugged. “I’m doing it! Danny is doing it! And I know that you guys can do it too.” I flashed them a hint of a sympathetic smile. “It’s like you have some sort of mental block against this, and it’s time to break it down. So, let’s start by you guys telling me why this is so hard for you? I really want to know.”

A few moments passed, as I just stood there at the front of the room, looking holes through the Strattonites, who seemed to be literally shrinking in their seats under the weight of my stare. They were a motley crew, all right. There was no denying that. It was a miracle that any of these clowns had even passed their broker’s exam.

Finally, one of them broke the silence.

“There are too many objections,” he whined. “I’m getting hit with them left and right. I can’t even get a pitch off!”

“Me too,” added another. “There are thousands of objections. I can’t get a pitch off either. It’s a lot harder than with penny stocks.”

“Exactly,” added a third one. “I’m getting smashed with objections.” He let out a deep sigh. “I vote for penny stocks too!”

“Same here,” added another. “It’s the objections; they don’t let up.” The rest of the Strattonites began nodding their heads in agreement, as they muttered their collective feelings of disapproval under their breath.

But I wasn’t the least bit fazed. With the exception of that one reference about “voting”—as if this were a fucking democracy!—I’d heard it all before.