A SUCCESSFUL MONDAY MEETING
My Monday night meetings were proving very beneficial, and one, in
particular, had been very interesting. It had been something of an
innovation.
The secretary of the hardware association had been in town, and I had
asked him around to the house for lunch; and while there, I had told him
about our weekly meetings. He thought it was an excellent idea.
"You are doing a good thing," he said, "and you'll get a lot closer to
your boys. They work better for you, don't you know."
It was Betty who had suggested the idea. It hadn't occurred to me at
all. She was in the kitchen, getting the lunch ready, and I didn't think
she was paying any attention to what Mr. Field and I were talking about.
Then, as she was placing the lunch of chops and grilled sweet potatoes
(grilled as only Betty can grill them) on the table, she had remarked:
"If Mr. Field is staying in town to-night, why not ask him to attend
your meeting with you?"
"That's a dandy idea!" I returned enthusiastically. "Will you come, Mr.
Field?"
And the big, rosy-faced, jovial secretary chuckled and said:
"Very glad to."
I had been told a number of times that Mr. Field was one of the
best-natured men in the world, which perhaps accounted somewhat for his
success. His readiness to comply with my request tended to show that
what I had heard about him was true.
"And, boy dear," said Betty sweetly, "Mr. Field has several stores of
his own. Why not make him an ex-officio member of the company for
to-night? Perhaps he could give you some good ideas on selling."
"Say, that's bully!" I cried, smacking my knee. "I'll tell the boys this
afternoon!"
Betty smiled:
"Wouldn't it be just as well to ask Mr. Field first, if he would do it?"
"Why, yes, of course," I replied, blushing. "How careless of me! You
will, won't you, Mr. Field?"
"Only too glad to be of service," he returned, "if you think there is
anything I can say that will help them."
"I'm sure there is," I said impetuously.
We then settled down to our lunch. A few minutes later Betty suggested:
"Won't it make it pretty late for Mr. Field to get his dinner after the
meeting, since it doesn't start until 6:30?"
Then a brilliant idea struck me.
"Betty," I asked, "will you make us coffee and buy some doughnuts and
send them down to the store about quarter past six? That will keep us
from starving until the meeting is over."
Well, we had our coffee and doughnuts before the meeting started. Mr.
Field had a chance to mix with the boys, and got them all into good
humor. Then the meeting was called to order, and I announced that,
before Mr. Field began to talk, we would clean up any left-over matters.
I brought up the matter of the Cincinnati Pencil Sharpener agency. The
boys seemed to fight shy of doing any outside selling, and I, in a fit
of bravado--caused, I think, by the keen twinkle I saw in Mr. Field's
eyes--said:
"Well, I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll go out myself to-morrow, and see
what can be done with it. If I start the ball rolling, you fellows will
follow it up all right, won't you?"
And this was agreed to--somewhat half-heartedly, I must say.
Wilkes, who was delivery and messenger boy, and general boy of all work,
then asked if it wouldn't be a good idea to sell toys at Christmas time.
Jones laughed at this; but Larsen said nothing. I, myself, thought the
idea rather ridiculous, although I didn't say so, of course; but a
glance at Mr. Field's face showed me that he didn't think the idea was
foolish.
"Tell you what we'll do," I said. "Let's leave that until next week, for
we want to have some good ideas from Mr. Field while we have him here."
Mr. Field, in his good-natured, friendly manner, started in by inviting
us to interrupt him at any time and ask any questions we wanted, because
he wasn't going to make a speech, but was just going "to talk."
I wish I had put down verbatim what he said; but, as I didn't I will
outline the main points he brought out--and some dandy pointers on
selling he gave us.
He was talking about courteous service to customers.
"Courtesy is something more than mere politeness," he said. "You have
to have the real feeling of wishing to do something for the customer,
and you have to show the customer you want to help him by every word and
action. Such a feeling, don't you know, will make you, when you see a
customer coming, go to him instead of standing still and waiting for him
to come to you."
"That's just what Mr. Barker was telling me last week!" I exclaimed.
Mr. Field then spoke about introducing other lines to the customers
while they were waiting.
"Have you ever noticed," he said, "when you go into a store to buy
something and you are waiting for the parcel to be wrapped, or waiting
for your change, that the salesman will usually make some remark about
the weather, or talk about the ball game, or the election returns?
That's all right and very interesting, perhaps, and it helps to make the
customer like the salesman. But it would make the cash register work
harder--and you know, boys, there's no Society for the Prevention of
Cruelty to Cash Registers--if, instead of talking about the weather, or
something of that kind, the clerk talked about something that might make
the cash register 'ting.' See what I mean, boys? Instead of saying, 'A
nice day, isn't it?' why don't you say 'This is a nice safety razor,' or
'do you use a safety razor?'"
Larsen broke in with:
"You ask him to buy something after he got what he wants? He get mad?
no?"
"Well," said Mr. Field, "he might, if you were to say to him, 'Wouldn't
you like to buy this safety razor?' But, of course, you would merely
pass the safety razor over to him, as you mention it, saying, perhaps:
'This is a new kind of safety razor which works differently from the
ordinary kind--what do you think of it?' You do not ask him to buy it;
but you just try to get him interested in it. The difference between
being interested in an article, and wanting to own it, is one of degree,
and not of kind. See what I mean?
"There is another thing that's helped sales in my own stores very
much--the use of suggestion. Whenever a customer buys anything, we
always suggest something that can go with it. For instance, I sell
stationery. Suppose a customer comes to our stationery counter and asks
for a box of note paper. We always suggest post-cards, blotting paper,
pen and ink, or anything else that is associated with the goods she has
purchased.
"If a customer asked for a safety razor, don't you think it would be
poor salesmanship not to offer him something else? A machine could do
that much. But it takes a real salesman to sell him something else and I
know you boys are real salesmen. You mustn't have the customer feel that
he's been forced to buy something he doesn't want, but make him pleased
with his new purchase. When you're asked for a safety razor, and have
made this sale you should ask him what kind of shaving soap he uses, or
tell him that you have some good shaving brushes which will help to make
his shaving comfortable. If a man buys nails, suggest a hammer; if he
buys screws, suggest a screw-driver. It doesn't matter what you're
selling, there is always something you can suggest that will go with it,
and which is quite natural to suggest. I tell you, boys, a customer
will very often thank you for reminding him of something that he wants."
Larsen brought up a problem, and the way Mr. Field answered it, I
thought, was fine. Certainly it was something I never would have thought
of, and I knew that none of the boys would have known how to get around
it.
Said Larsen: "A lady, she come in the other day and ask for an oil lamp.
I show her a nice one, bronze finish. But she says no, she want brass
finish. We don't carry brass finished lamps--no call for 'em. I tell her
bronze finish is better, keep cleaner and more stylish. But no, she
won't have it. She want brass finish and I couldn't sell her. What would
you do about it?"
"Of course," replied Mr. Field, "you can't sell to everybody. Some folks
have certain likes and dislikes, and it's a waste of time to try to
change their whims and fancies. I don't think I would have tried to
swing her into line on the question of the finish of the lamp, I would
have ignored that altogether and talked about some other advantages of
the lamp. Do you see what I mean? Here, how's this? Instead of talking
about the finish, why not say: 'Yes, madam, it's just a matter of taste
whether you prefer brass or the bronze finish. Most people prefer the
bronze and that's why we keep it. I know the brass finish looks well
but, after all, it's only a small matter. Isn't it more important to get
a lamp that does its work properly? Just notice this duplex burner,' and
then I would go on to describe all the other features of the lamp, its
burning qualities, its economy, its durability, and things of that kind.
You see, I would have tried to side track that objection to the finish
of the lamp by talking about other things. If necessary you could tell
her that she wouldn't have to clean the bronze finish as often as she
would the brass. Now, if that isn't clear to you, Mr. Larsen, say so.
Don't hesitate to speak up. You know I get more out of this than you
boys do, if you ask questions."
As no one asked a question Mr. Field went on:
"I don't believe you should argue with a customer on something which is
a matter of taste or fancy. If it was something about whether or not the
lamp gave a good light, you could prove that it would, for that's not a
question of taste, like the color or finish. In my stores we make it a
rule to give way to the customer on little matters. That makes him feel
good tempered, don't you know, and it's easy then for us to win our
point on something important if its necessary to getting the order."
"I saw in one of the Sunday papers," remarked Jones, "an editorial which
said to give way on little things, and you will gain the big ones."
"That's about the idea," replied Mr. Field. "I think that's very well
put."
There was one other point that Mr. Field brought out, and one on which I
was not certain whether he was right or not--the advisability of showing
better class goods all the time. He said that if he had a store like
mine he would want to offer solid silver goods during the Christmas
trade for presents, and nice cases of cutlery.
"Don't you know," he said, "that people in this town buy those nice
things? If you go into the better-class homes you will find beautiful
silverware, and cut-glass, and expensive cutlery, and all that kind of
thing; but they don't buy them in the town because your business men
seem afraid to stock up on really good stuff like that. When folks want
that good stuff, they have to go to the big cities for it."
"Think of the money it runs into, though," I said.
"Yes, but think of the extra profit you make by it."
"Huh," interjected Larsen, "that sounds nice, 'extra profit.' Suppose
you don't sell the goods! There you are flat on your back, with a lot of
expensive silverware and things on your chest!"
We laughed at Larsen. When order was restored, Mr. Field said:
"With a little maneuvering it is possible to get such goods on
consignment. We make a point, in all my stores, of offering the best
goods we have to the customer. It's easier to come down than to go up,
don't you know. I know a store in a small town, that never used to sell
pocket-knives for more than fifty cents. They told me they didn't think
it possible to sell anything more expensive, there, forgetting that
there was a lot of money there. A salesman one day got them to put in a
line of pocket-knives selling, retail, up to $2.00 each. They were
afraid of them, in spite of the salesman's confidence that they could
sell them, if they showed them so the salesman finally agreed to send
them a lot on consignment. That was--let me see--a couple of years ago.
When I was in the town a few days ago, I was talking with the owner of
that store and he told me that now they very seldom sell anything less
than 50 cents, and that their average price for pocket-knives is a
dollar to a dollar and a quarter. He said they sell a lot of them up as
high as $3.50 each, and they sell more knives now than ever they did
when they carried only cheap ones."
A buzz went around the store from my little force as this fact sunk
home. Then Mr. Field sat down, and we broke into hearty applause.
Larsen got up, before we closed, and suggested a vote of thanks to Mr.
Field for his most instructive talk, which suggestion was followed out;
and the meeting then adjourned.
I felt that it was a mighty good thing to have an outsider come in and
talk like that, and I decided to try to get some people to do it. Barlow
was a mighty clever man, but I thought some of these little stunts I was
pulling off were better than anything he could think of.