Laura’s Blog

Picture this scenario:

My workday opened with a two-hour meeting at the offices of one of my clients. On the way home, I swung by Costco to pick up some essentials (we have teenage sons, so milk, bread, and bananas are always in short supply).

As I meandered through the pots and pans aisle on the way to “bagel row,” I signed on a new client (imagine me on my cell phone, parked in front of the acrylic “glassware,” madly scribbling notes onto my pocket memo pad).

When I arrived back at my home office, I noted four “must-do” things to accomplish before my day ended:

1. Synthesize notes from morning client meeting and send to the project team.
2. Prepare and send contract and invoice to new client.
3. Finalize curriculum for social media workshop I’m teaching in two days.
4. Accompany my son to a meeting at his school.

I had just finished answering the day’s e-mails and was diving into my notes when a loud rap sounded on my front door. A cute, overly-cheerful young woman greeted me. (My distracted brain struggled to process this anomaly in a millisecond – Jehovah’s Witness? Nope. College-aged window washer? Nope.

She flashed a brilliant smile and asked, “Do you have a dirty carpet in your home that needs cleaning? We’ll dry-foam shampoo an entire room in your home right now, for free.”

This caught my attention. Because teenage boys in the home = dirt on the carpet. Lots of dirt.

“Do you have carpeted stairs? We’ll shampoo your stairs,” she offered.

I eased back from the front door and gazed at my carpeted staircase. Dirty.

Then I thought about our downstairs “man cave.” The video game/TV room. Extremely dirty.

“You said you’ll shampoo any room? Like, say, a largish family room?”

“Yes,” she replied, with a big, almost-genuine smile.

“Will I have to sit through an hour-long sales pitch for a Kirby, because I don’t have time for that today.”

“Oh no,” she promised. “No sales pitch at all.”

That was my first mistake. Everything I had ever learned from attending numerous time-share presentations flew out of my brain and all I could think about was that grimy carpet in my basement. The carpet that would be magically transformed into a better version of itself – for free – and I wouldn’t have to shampoo it.

“You’re on,” I said.

Soon, a three-person team of Kirby-ites hurricaned through my home, lugging in what appeared to be a truckload of boxes. Holy cow! All this, just to shampoo our man cave carpet?

For the next three hours (count ‘em – THREE HOURS), my husband, our older son, and I watched, dazed, as the Kirby-ites vacuumed, pre-treated, re-vacuumed, and shampooed two square feet of our basement carpet (they did not shampoo the entire room, as promised). They did suck the dust out of our laptops and clean the ancient floor mats from our son’s car. They even vacuumed our sons’ sheets and mattresses, and showed us evidence of dust mites and other disgusting things that make their home in our beds. Eeeewww!

During the midst of this marathon demo, my husband and I tag-teamed. He picked our younger son up from wrestling practice and grabbed us fast-food burgers for dinner. I took our son to his meeting at school. When we returned home, the Kirby-ites were still there, vacuuming everything in sight.

My husband pulled me aside. “I told them we’re not going to buy a Kirby,” but they won’t leave,” he hissed.

When the three Kirby-ites (demo guy, trainee, and hard-sell manager) finally packed up and left at 8:10 p.m., our 15-year-old son surveyed our freshly shampooed square of carpet and commented, “Well, it looks clean. But not $3,000 cleaner than it was before.”

That’s right, folks. They were asking nearly $3,000 for a “50^th anniversary edition” Kirby with all the bells and whistles. Gulp.

The next morning, when I had finally recovered enough brain cells to think straight, I pondered the lessons I learned during this direct sales demonstration. Other than having a small area of clean carpet and dust mite-free mattresses, there had to be some meaningful takeaway lessons from my three hours with the Kirby-ites, right? 

Of course there are! Nine of them, in fact. You may wish to apply these lessons when selling your own products or services:

1.  Show up, in person

When I receive e-mail sales pitches, I read the Subject line and then hit the delete key.

When a telemarketer phones, I interrupt with a firm, “No thanks,” and hang up.

But when an energetic “girl next door” type knocks on my door and offers to clean a room of my house for free, it’s really, really hard to say “no.”

Takeaway: When you’re pitching your services or products, do so in person whenever possible. Face-to-face contact sells.

2.  Know your target market.

When Kirby-girl knocked on my door, she told me that their team was canvassing my middle-class neighborhood. “We’re shampooing Mary’s carpet across the street first, then we’re doing Frank’s down the block, and we need to do two more homes while we’re in your neighborhood today,” Kirby-girl informed me.

When she mentioned that Mary and Frank were in the process of getting their carpets shampooed, it subconsciously elevated my own trust level in the Kirby-ites.

The Kirby-ites are aware of the demographics of neighborhoods they target. They know whether the homes are owned or rented. They know the value of our homes and can make fairly accurate guesstimates as to our annual income. As such, they can predict that at least one of the homeowners on my block would fork out $3,000 for a vacuum cleaner.

Takeaway: Do your homework. Before you pitch your services or products, do extensive market research into who your ideal customer is.

3.  Connect with your customer.

Kirby demo guy asked us about our interests, hobbies, and activities. In return, he told us stories about his kids, hobbies, and activities. He did so as a natural part of the conversation, which helped us view him as a real person and elevated our trust in him.

Takeaway: Your customers are not statistics, but real people. Get to know them as individuals, and find ways to show them you care about them.

4.  Give away something valuable.

When the Kirby-ites knocked on my door, they promised they’d shampoo a room of my house. Since my carpet was in need of a shampoo, their incentive was of high value to me.

Takeaway: Think about a “loss leader” – a product or service you can give away without breaking the bank – something that will benefit your ideal customer in a tangible way.

5.  Keep your promises.

Unfortunately, the Kirby-ites did not fulfill their promise to shampoo our entire room; instead, they dinked around in the room’s entryway (granted, the entry was the dirtiest spot on the carpet) for three full hours. As a result, part of the carpet in our man cave looks great, and the rest looks… not so great.

Takeaway: People remember negative experiences 20 times more than they do positive ones, and they’re more likely to share negative experiences with others. Fulfill promises you make to potential customers, and you’ll likely earn their long-term loyalty.

6.  Let your product or service do the talking.

The Kirby demo guy asked us to get out our own vacuum cleaner. He poured a mountain of baking soda on our carpet and showed us how ineffective our vacuum is at, well – vacuuming.

He then vacuumed the same area with the Kirby, so we could see how effectively it slurped up every iota of dirt, dust, and hair. He made his point without uttering a word; he simply showed us swatches of black fabric he’d attached to the Kirby, loaded with gunk from our carpet.

He displayed at least 20 fabric swatches loaded with dirt from our carpet in conspicuous locations all over our family room floor. He then looked pointedly at said fabric swatches. And waited for us to get nervous and blurt out, “We must immediately stop paying our son’s college tuition and buy a Kirby instead!”

Takeaway: If you have a great product or service, and you truly believe in it, you won’t have to convince people to buy it. Let the quality of your product or the value of your service speak for itself.

7.  Make the sale.

Partway through the demonstration, Kirby guy handed us a laminated sheet that listed the prices and features for three Kirby systems.

He hauled our old vacuum cleaner outside and left it there, a psychological trick intended to make it easier for us to trade in that “piece of junk” for a spanking new Kirby.

Near the end of the demo, he broke out “the black binder” and walked us through the endless wondrous benefits of owning a Kirby.

At the end of the presentation, he called in the reinforcements – the slick manager guy whose job is to play “bad cop.” Manager guy asked us directly (several times) if we would buy the system. When we said “no,” he didn’t give up right away, but followed up with, “What if I could make you a dynamite deal?”

Takeaway: Many of us spend hours polishing our pitches. But when it comes time for the call-to-action, we get squeamish. Get over it. Don’t be afraid to ask, “Will you buy this? Will you buy it right now?”

8.  “No” means “no.”

When prospects do say no – or when they say “maybe, but not right now,” it’s ok to ask for clarification. But when they get that hostile glint in their eyes and start edging closer to the kitchen knife block, it’s time to pack up and leave.

The Kirby-ites packed their boxes as slowly as possible, deliberately cleaning, scrubbing, and polishing each component. They gently wrapped each tool in plastic bags and reverently placed each item into boxes.

Their goal was to show us how valuable this machine is, and what great care one must take of it. Their ever-so-slow packing procedure gave us plenty of time to ponder whether we’d made the correct decision in saying “no.”

They intentionally made us feel uncomfortable, hoping we’d get impatient and say, “What the heck. I’ll buy this thing, just to get you guys out of here faster!”

The “refuse-to-take-no-for-an-answer” that direct sales people use has always irritated me. I am polite to sales people because I respect the fact that they’re doing their job. But once I make a buying decision, I rarely change my mind.

Takeaway: When you’re selling your product or service, be aware of the body language of the person you’re selling to. Respect their “no” or their “maybe later,” and follow up with the prospect in a few days, after they’ve had a chance to cool off and think about their decision.

9.  Zip your fly.

Kirby demo guy was dressed appropriately for the job. He had on jeans, sturdy (but attractive) work shoes, and a dress shirt and tie. He was professional, well-spoken, and friendly (but not overly friendly). Only one problem. His fly was unzipped, and his tighty whities were on display in all their cottony glory.

Takeaway: Before doing a presentation, sales pitch, or any activity that involves meeting a prospect in person, check and double-check every aspect of your grooming and attire in front of a full length mirror. First impressions do count.

Two additional marketing lessons, updated April 12, 2016:

Readers: Today, I closed the comment thread for this post. Sadly, recent comments have degenerated into a flame war among Kirby distributors, owners, and non-owners.

That was NOT my intention when I wrote this article; the point was to share marketing lessons I learned during the Kirby demo in my home — lessons that any of us who sell products and services can benefit from.

Incidentally, my doorbell rang the other day and it was two young women, huffing and puffing because they had been “running down the block, doing demos for 4 neighbors.”

Word-for-word the same pitch they gave me four years ago. “We aren’t trying to sell you anything,” they gasped, in unison. “We’re just here to offer you a free demo.”

“Are you by any chance doing demos of Kirby vacuums?” I asked.

“Well, yes.”

“I’m not interested. Have a nice day.”

So, I’ll throw in two more lessons I learned:

1) Don’t lie to me and tell me you’re not trying to sell me anything when it’s obvious that selling me something is exactly why you rang my doorbell.

2) Change up your sales pitch every few years (preferably, more often than every few years). I’ve heard the breathless, “We’re in such a hurry… all your neighbors have asked for a demo” line every year for the last four years.

Been there. Done that.