Any minute, any second, football fans know the score. Even beerguzzling Big George, dozing in front of the TV set on football
Sunday knows. Poke his pudgy pot, and in a wink, he'll tell you
who's winning, who's losing, and by precisely how many points.
Key players in the game of life are like George. Even when
you think they're dozing, they are constantly aware of the score
between themselves and everyone in their life—friends and family included! They know who is winning, who is losing, and by
how many points.
When two Japanese businessmen meet, it's obvious who is on
top. You measure it in millimeters from how close to the floor their
noses come when bowing. (Bottom man's nose dives lower.)
In America, we don't have carefully choreographed bows
showing the score in a relationship. But boys 'n' girls in the business big league know who is top dog and who is bottom dog today.
(It can change tomorrow.)
Bottom dog must curtsy deeper. He or she must show deference. Bottom dog must offer to meet at top dog's office, pick up
the restaurant tab when appropriate, and be respectful of top dog's
time. If bottom dog fails to show the proper deference, he doesn't
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the Right Moves
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Copyright 2003 by Leil Lowndes. Click Here for Terms of Use.
get his nose rubbed into the ground. He simply disqualifies himself to bark in the big league.
That's what happened to my girlfriend Laura, who had developed the healthy milkshake. (Remember her from Instant Replay?)
When we last left Laura, she was blowing her chances with Fred,
the top banana of a supermarket chain, by grilling him for details
of his mailing address, complaining her pen was out of ink, making him wait while she got another, writing numbers down wrong,
ad nauseam.
I didn't tell you the worst part. After Fred was generous
enough to invite Laura to send him samples of her health shake,
she dropped another bomb by asking him which shipping service
she should use. He must have said FedEx because I heard Laura
say, "Well, my milkshake needs to stay refrigerated. Does FedEx
have refrigerated trucks?"
At this point I knew she had strangled the deal by her own
phone chord. She shouldn't nudge Supermarket Czar with dinky
shipping details. In fact, Laura should be so grateful, she should
personally deliver the drink the next day—rolling it all the way to
his supermarket with her nose if need be. Laura was obviously not
aware of The Great Scorecard in the Sky. That day the tally was
Fred everything, Laura nothing.
Big winners—before putting pen to paper, fingers to keyboard, mouth to phone, or hand to someone else's to shake it—
do a quick calculation. They ask themselves "Who has the most
to benefit from this relationship? What has each of us done
recently that demands deference from the other?" And what can
I do to even the score?
Friends Keep Tabs Too
The Great Scorecard in the Sky is not just bobbing over businesspeople. If family members and friends look carefully over their
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loved ones' heads, they'll spot it. And, like an over-the-counter
stock, it goes up or down every day. When you mess up, you have
to even your score by doing more for the one who didn't. To keep
love alive, keep your eye on The Great Scorecard in the Sky.
Several months ago, I met a nice chap named Charles at a convention. We started discussing our favorite foods. His was homemade linguine with pesto sauce. I liked Charles and I make a mean
pesto sauce. The remarkable coincidence of these two elements
emboldened me to invite him to dinner at my place. "Great," he
said. We set it for seven-thirty the following Tuesday.
Tuesday afternoon, I begin preparations for the big date. The
cuckoo clock on the wall monitored my progress. At five cuckoos,
I run to the store to find pine nuts. By six cuckoos, I'm back home
grinding basil and garlic. At seven cuckoos, I'm folding napkins,
setting the table, pulling out fresh candles. Whoops, running late.
I change clothes and spruce myself up. When seven-thirty strikes,
I am all ready. The pesto and I await his arrival.
Eight o'clock rolls around and no friend. Well, I figure, I'll
open the wine and let it breathe. Another hour passes and no
Charles. The cuckoo calls me "cuckoo" nine times now. I begin to
believe the bird. It is evident Charles isn't coming. I have been
stood up.
The next day Charles called with halfhearted apologies and a
semiplausible excuse. His car broke down. "Gee, I'm sorry," I said.
(I wanted to say, "Did Martians capture you? Were you transported to another planet where there were no phones to call me?"
I resisted the sarcasm.) However, he did sound contrite so I was
almost willing to forget it. Until his next question.
He obviously wasn't aware of how he'd slipped in The Great
Scorecard in the Sky because, instead of inviting me for linguine
with pesto at a fine Italian restaurant to make up for his blooper,
he asked, "When can we reschedule at your house?"
Never, Charlie.
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Your Destiny
We've met many people in How to Talk to Anyone. A few of their
names are changed, but each is very real. Recently, I decided to
track down some of the folks with whom I'd crossed paths over
the years. I wanted to see what they're up to now.
Laura, my old friend who dreamed of milkshake millions but
ignored the Supermarket Czar's scorecard, is now back at her day
job. Sam, who ruffled me by not revealing he wanted me to speak
for his organization, no longer has one. Sonny, who hounded his
brother-in-law's cousin by a too-quick call, is still pumping gas.
Tania, who insisted on immediate tit for tat, no longer has that
terrific job at the talent agency. Poor Jane, the mail-room clerk who
confronted her boss at the Christmas party five years ago, is still
wrapping packages. And Dan, who left the prolonged inspirational
message on his phone, now has an unlisted number—not a good
sign for an aspiring speaker.
Whereas Barry who asks everyone he calls, "What Color Is
Your Time?" was recently chosen Broadcaster of the Year by the
National Association of Talk Show Hosts. Joe, who keeps note of
everyone on his Business Card Dossier, is now a state senator.
How to Make All the Right Moves 339
Technique #92
The Great Scorecard in the Sky
Any two people have an invisible scorecard hovering
above their heads. The numbers continually fluctuate,
but one rule remains: player with lower score pays
deference to player with higher score. The penalty for
not keeping your eye on The Great Scorecard in the
Sky is to be thrown out of the game. Permanently.
09 (293-342B) part nine 8/14/03 9:19 AM Page 339
Jimmi, the expert at Eyeball Selling, was recently written up in
Success magazine. Steve, whose staff insinuates "Oh Wow, It's You!"
to every caller, is one of the most requested speakers on the cable
circuit. Tim, the can-do guy who gets what he wants from workers in every industry by writing Buttercups for Their Boss, now
owns the travel agency. And Gloria, my hairdresser who gives the
great Nutshell Résumé, recently opened a salon on New York's
fashionable Fifth Avenue.
Does this mean to say that just because the first folks irked
me and a few others they were exiled to a humdrum existence?
And the latter group who made people smile would attain great
heights? Of course not. Those isolated moments of their lives we
examined were but one move of many they made each day.
But consider: if you had been who was ruffled by Laura, Sam,
Sonny, Tania, Jane, or Dan and they called you, would you feel
like extending yourself for them? Probably not. The memory of
their ragged dealing would still smart.
Whereas if you heard from Barry, Joe, Jimmi, Steve, Tim, or
Gloria, happy memories of your exchange would flood over you.
You'd want to do whatever you could for them.
Multiply your response by many thousands. As we said in the
introduction, nobody gets to the top alone. Over the years, the
smooth moves of these big winners have captured the hearts and
conquered the minds of hundreds of people who helped boost
them rung by rung to the top of whatever ladder they chose.
How does one become an instinctive smooth mover rather
than a ragged rider through life? The answer became blindingly
clear one snowy day last winter. Lumbering along a neatly
groomed track on cross-country skis, I spotted a Nordic skier
swiftly striding toward me in the same trail. I didn't need to
observe his high kick or his snazzy diagonal poling to let me know
I was obstructing the path of a pro.
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While mustering the energy to lug my throbbing legs out of
the track so Super Skier could soar past, he deftly sidestepped out
of the groove, leaving the groomed trail all for me. As he whizzed
toward me, he slowed slightly, smiled, nodded, and said, "Good
morning, beautiful day for skiing, isn't it?"
I appreciated his deference (and insinuation that we were
equals on the snow!). I knew he was not thinking "Hey look at
me. Here I am!" but "Ahh, there you are. Let me make room for
you."
As I implied in the opening words of this book, the difference in the life success between those two types of thinkers is
incalculable.
Why was Super Skier able to pull off his move so gracefully?
Was he born with the skill? No. His was a deliberate move that
grew out of practice.
Practice is also the fountainhead of all smooth communications moves. Excellence is not a single and solitary action. It is the
outcome of many years of making small smooth moves, tiny ones
like the ninety-two little tricks we've explored in How to Talk to
Anyone. These moves create your destiny.
Remember, repeating an action makes a habit.
Your habits create your character.
And your character is your destiny.
May success be your destiny