The stories we tell
Do you remember buying your first car? The stories you told yourself about what was important about that first car? Did you want a red car (because they go faster)? Was it important to have a bull-bar (because you drive on a road with kangaroos)? What stories did you tell yourself about what was important?
Back in 1995, when I bought my first car, this purchase was heavily influenced by my Dad. He told me that the best cars were Japanese cars. The top three (in his view) were Toyota, Mazda and Subaru. Although I trusted my Dad’s judgement on what made a good car, I bought a Honda. I liked it’s sleek sporty two door look. It suited the image story I told myself. The salesman, sensing my doubts over Dad’s list, reassured me that the Honda was also built in Japan.
In my view, based purely on the upbringing from my Dad, Japanese cars were built better, would last longer and be more reliable. That story didn’t help me when the clutch failed on my (new to me) Japanese built car after the first two weeks of owning it.
Changing stories
I needed that car to get myself to my job and I had to sort it out. The car dealer had the opportunity to contribute to the next part of the story. They wouldn’t admit it was a warranty issue. They implied that because I was a ‘girl’ I probably didn’t know what a clutch was meant to feel like. I was 24 at the time (yes, a late bloomer as far as buying first cars go) and had been driving manual cars since I was 16 or earlier. I’d used a clutch or two in my time…
I had to fight long and hard for the dealer to fix the clutch under warranty. I was without a car for months, and I had to tackle an inconvenient public transport system. The whole experience changed everything for me. For a good long while the story I told myself was that used car dealers were sexist and that they sucked at customer service. (I have since worked in retail car sales and I know a lot of very decent, honest, caring people in that industry. I would never want to tar them with this story brush. Others, though, I would paint in high-vis fluoro to alert people to the danger lying therein – pardon the pun. But I digress…)
We all have frames
Maybe the story is not that we want a red car because it goes faster, but what it is that the red car says about us.
Perhaps we tell ourselves that a red car allows us to be perceived as unique.
Maybe what is important about the bull-bar is not only about the Kangaroos, but about how we feel that extra bit protected with an extra lump of metal between us and the car in front.
The stories we tell ourselves frame our existence. If our view is that ALL used car sales people are jerks, we’re unlikely to go and buy a used car from any of them. Some of us believe the story that says we’ll get a better deal if we buy a car privately. Others hold the belief that a vehicle purchased with warranty is always a better risk.
When it comes to how we do our marketing, it doesn’t matter whether you agree with the story I believe. It only matters that you believe that my story matters to me. That you have empathy for what my experience is. You may not agree with it. It may not be your experience. But that you say “I see your story. It’s not my story. I don’t believe what you believe. And that is OK.”
Which frame will you choose?
The way I see it, there are two options:
“I have this product/service to sell, I’ve worked very hard to make it, I have a lot invested in it. You should buy it.”
Or
“I see you. I realise that you may be nervous about this. How can I help you move past that fear so that you can know what I know and experience what I experience?”
We can appear over-eager, or even desperate. It can feel like all that matters is making the sale. Or we can make the choice to be kind, supportive helpful people who are here to serve rather than just to make a buck. Very few of us don’t need to make a buck, but it’s our choice whether we do it in a way that lifts others.
To do that, we have to see the need – those deeper, more hidden underlying stories that people tell themselves. It means having empathy for their perspective and determining how best to help them, to make the choice to serve with empathy.
If we choose the right frame our approach changes. It moves from being one of desperation and entitlement to one founded in kindness and generosity. The world needs more of both of those things.
What stories do your customers want YOU to know?
PS. If your customer stories seem more like a mystery novel, give me a yell. I’d love to help you see your customers in a whole new way.
