What Does Your Pickup Say About You?

I've spent a lot of years riding around in pickups with salespeople, customers and just about anybody else involved in the truck business.

And I've learned something. You can tell quite a bit about somebody by the way they take care of their pickup.

Now, before somebody gets their underwear in a bunch, I'm not talking about what brand you drive, how much you paid for it or how many miles are on the odometer.

I don't care if it's a brand new $90,000 pickup or a fifteen year old truck with 200,000 miles on it.

I'm talking about how you take care of it.

Are the windows clean? Are the tires in good shape? Is the maintenance being done? Or is the cab full of empty coffee cups, fast-food wrappers and enough junk to fill a dumpster?

There's a difference between a pickup that's dirty because somebody's been working and one that's simply being neglected.

Mud on the tires doesn't bother me. Neglect does.

Let me tell you why.

Over the years, I've been on plenty of customer visits with salespeople. Sometimes I'd ride along to meet a fleet operator, see his operation and spend a little time discussing how we could help his business.

You spend the morning walking around equipment, asking questions, listening to what the customer has to say and hopefully making some progress toward earning his business.

Then somebody suggests grabbing a quick bite.

Sounds good.

The salesman volunteers to drive.

"Everybody can ride with me. Just give me a minute to move some stuff out of the back seat."

Oh boy.

Now we're standing in the parking lot while he's rearranging everything he's been hauling around in that pickup. Moving things from one seat to another. Shoving stuff behind the front seats. Maybe tossing a few things into the bed.

All so the customer has somewhere to sit.

And I'm thinking...

C'mon. You knew we were visiting this customer today.

Think about what just happened.

You spent the entire morning talking with this fleet operator about his equipment, his operation and how you could help him solve problems. You might have made some pretty good progress.

Then you walked out to the parking lot.

And whatever progress you made that morning, you may have just given a good piece of it back.

Not because your pickup was dirty.

Because you weren't prepared.

You put your customer in an uncomfortable situation. He's standing there watching you make room for him in a pickup you knew you were going to drive to his facility that morning.

And here's the kicker. The salesman probably doesn't even realize what just happened.

Everybody eventually gets in. You go to lunch. You have a nice conversation. Maybe even a few laughs.

He thinks everything went great.

But I wonder what the customer is thinking.

If this guy can't organize something as simple as his own pickup, how organized is he when it comes to my business?

Will he remember the details we discussed this morning? Will he follow up when he says he will? Will he pay attention to the little things that matter when my equipment is being built, delivered or serviced?

Fair questions.

Because when a customer puts his business in your hands, he's trusting you to manage things that matter to him. And sometimes the little things tell him more about you than the big sales presentation you spent all morning delivering.

Now, don't misunderstand me.

I've climbed into plenty of pickups with muddy floors, dusty dashboards and work boots sitting behind the seat. That's part of working around trucks, equipment, construction sites and quarries.

I don't expect somebody who's been working in the mud all morning to show up looking like he's headed to a car show.

But I do expect him to take care of his equipment and be prepared for the people he's doing business with.

There's a big difference between working out of your pickup and living out of a rolling dumpster.

And this isn't just about salespeople. The same thing applies to the service truck that pulls into a customer's yard, the equipment you're responsible for maintaining or the way you organize the work you do every day.

Attention to detail isn't something you turn on when the customer is watching.

It's a habit.

And those habits have a funny way of showing themselves when you least expect it.

We've talked plenty about earning trust and respect here in The Yard. About showing up, keeping promises and understanding how the mud gets on the tires.

Well, sometimes earning that trust starts before you ever open your mouth.

Sometimes it starts when you pull into the customer's parking lot.

And sometimes you can lose a little of it just by opening the back door.

So here's something to think about the next time you climb into your pickup.

If your customer saw how you take care of your own equipment, would he trust you to take care of his?

And while you're thinking about that...

Take a look in the back seat.

See you next week…

The journey continues.

— HAMP

One Strike and You’re Invisible

Eddie didn’t call only when he needed to buy something. And I didn’t show up only when there was a sale to be had.

Sometimes Eddie needed a sounding board. Someone who understood the trucks, the equipment and the operation well enough to let him vent about what upper management didn’t understand about the yard.

There wasn’t always a quote waiting at the end of those conversations. No purchase order. No commission. Sometimes there wasn’t anything for me to do except listen.

But I kept showing up, and Eddie kept talking.

Somewhere along the way, he began testing me. Not with an order. With conversations.

He needed to know whether he could tell me what was really happening without hearing it repeated somewhere else. Whether I was listening to understand his problem or collecting information I could use on my next sales call.

The test wasn’t complicated. Eddie would tell me something, then wait to see if it came back around.

With Eddie, it wasn’t three strikes and you’re out.

It was one strike and you’re invisible.

Those conversations were sacred ground. If Eddie told me something in confidence, it stayed between Eddie and me. Period.

I didn’t run back to my company and use it to make myself look important. I didn’t drop it into another conversation to prove how much I knew. And I sure didn’t use it as leverage to push Eddie into buying something.

I kept my mouth shut.

Trust got me into the conversation. Integrity kept me there.

That trust wasn’t built with a deal sitting on the table. It was built during all those conversations when there wasn’t anything for me to sell.

As the years went by, I changed companies, positions and products.

Eddie was still Eddie.

The relationship didn’t stay behind when I changed jobs because it was never built around a company logo. It was built between two people.

Eddie also did a pretty good job of telling his buddies in the oil patch about me. Those referrals earned me a lot of business.

I was no longer the greenhorn with the clean truck.

Eddie had put his name beside mine. In the oil patch, Eddie’s word was gospel.

Burn the bridge with Eddie, and a whole lot of other bridges burn with it. Immediately.

If I gave Eddie a reason to stop trusting me, I wasn’t just invisible to him. I was damn sure going to be invisible to his buddies, too.

Keep in mind that when Eddie had a problem to solve, I got the phone call before the deal hit the street.

Most of the time, I had the opportunity to help write the specs because I was already privy to the problem he needed to solve.

I wasn’t waiting for a bid package with every other salesperson. I got to taste the meat before it was put on the porch for all the other dogs to eat.

That is when you become what I’ve always called the brother-in-law in the deal.

Every deal has one.

The brother-in-law is the person the customer trusts enough to call before everybody else knows there’s an opportunity, the person who gets the straight story, understands the problem and has the first chance to help shape the right solution.

Being the brother-in-law doesn’t guarantee you the order. It gives you a fair shot before the whole deal gets reduced to price.

But you don’t become the brother-in-law by asking for the next order every time you walk through the door. You become one by being useful when there isn’t an order.

You listen when the customer is frustrated. You tell the truth when your product isn’t right for the job. You do what you said you would do.

And when somebody trusts you with information that isn’t yours to repeat, you keep your mouth shut.

That’s not a sales technique.

That’s trust and integrity.

A lot of salespeople want the early phone call. They want to help write the specs. They want to know about the deal before it hits the street.

But they only show up when there’s something to sell.

I wasn’t there because there was a deal.

I was in the deal because I had always been there.

Consistency built the relationship. Trust opened the door. Integrity kept it open.

So, when you’re trusted with an Eddie conversation, does it stay in the vault, or end up on social media?

One strike and you’re invisible.

See you next week.

-HAMP

You Probably Don’t Want to Drive That Clean Pickup Down There

Selling truck equipment into the oil and gas industry can be very rewarding. It can also be a little frustrating, especially when you’re on the road making cold calls.

The environment can be muddy, sometimes dark and usually off the beaten path. Pretty much the opposite of cold calling an executive sitting in a modern office with a formal gatekeeper whose job is to keep you out.

The oil patch has gatekeepers too. They just look a little different.

They’re the guys standing next to the equipment watching you pull into the yard. You can almost hear the conversation before you get out of your truck.

“I wonder what this greenhorn is selling.”

It’s a lot like showing up at a party without an invitation. And you learn pretty quickly that you can’t fake credibility. They’ll figure that out about the time you step out of your pickup.

“Watcha want?”

Usually the first words you hear.

“Is Eddie around?”

That’s who my buddies told me I needed to see.

“He’s down in the bottoms. You probably don’t want to drive that clean pickup down there.”

There it was.

I could have asked if somebody would go get Eddie. I could have left a card. I could have decided maybe this wasn’t the best day to see him and come back another time.

Instead, I asked one question.

“How do I get down there?”

I didn’t know it at the time, but that was the first move toward what would become a great relationship. Those guys weren’t just giving me directions.

They were giving me a test.

Would the greenhorn actually go down there? Would he get that clean pickup muddy? Or was he just another salesman who wanted to talk about their business without getting close enough to understand it?

I didn’t pretend to know how to get down there. And I surely didn’t care if my truck got muddy.

I had just passed test #1.

I made it down that slippery slope and eventually found a temporary field office with equipment sitting everywhere. I got out of my now muddy pickup, walked to the door and went inside.

Three guys wearing Carhartt's were sitting there.

They just looked at me.

“Is Eddie around?”

One of them looked back at me.

“I’m Eddie.”

And the conversation started.

I wasn’t there to sell him anything that day. I didn’t have some big pitch I needed to get through before he threw me out.

I just wanted to meet him.

Maybe if I did that right, I’d get invited to the party the next time.

And eventually, I did.

Years later, after Eddie and I had worked together on a couple of equipment projects, he told me something I never forgot.

I was the first salesman who had ever driven down to that field office just to meet him.

Think about that.

Plenty of people wanted to sell Eddie equipment. Apparently, not many were willing to drive down a slippery hill, get their pickup muddy and meet him where he actually worked.

There was no sales presentation that day. No quote. No proposal. No order.

Just a muddy pickup, three guys in Carhartt's and a conversation.

But something happened.

We respected each other.

Over the years, I delivered a lot of equipment to Eddie. More importantly, that mutual respect lasted until the day he passed away.

I still think about him.

And I think about how easily that entire relationship might never have happened. All I had to do was decide that those guys standing in the yard were right.

Maybe I really didn’t want to take my clean pickup down there.

Instead, I asked:

“How do I get down there?”

There’s a lesson in there for anybody who makes a living selling something.

Sometimes the most important call you make is the one where you don’t try to sell anything.

Show up. Respect where your customer works. Don’t pretend to know things you don’t. Be willing to get a little mud on the tires.

And maybe earn an invitation to the party next time.

Funny.

We’ve talked about understanding how the mud gets on the tires before.

I guess I learned that lesson a long time ago.

Sometimes you have to be willing to drive down into the bottoms and find out for yourself.

You can’t fake shop credibility.

And you sure as hell can’t earn it from the top of the hill with a clean pickup.

See you next week…

The journey continues.

— HAMP