Kurt and the Caveman Close

Kurt woke up one morning and knew he was now middle-aged. His 2 sons were in college and his daughter was married and gone with her own kids now. He got in his truck and drove to his job which, somehow, he had now had for 22 years.

In the small town in central Oklahoma where he grew up and lived, Kurt felt time slip by, and he was discontent. He picked up a newspaper and scanned it for possible jobs, thinking to himself “What could I possibly do other than sell heavy machinery?” In the town where he lived, everyone knew everyone else. He worked for his wife’s cousin. Bought his car from his brother-in-law. Got his hair cut by his sister. Lived next door to his parents. It was simple, but on this day, Kurt, now 45 years old, was ready for a change. He had done a brief stint as a medic in the army back in the ‘70’s, so he thought he would try to take on the field of biomedical sales.

He got a job for the sole purpose of getting out of that small town and moved to “the city”, as everyone referred to Oklahoma City, to work for my company, and that’s how it came about that we had our first meeting.

I liked him immediately—he was disarming, honest, and he really liked to laugh. He was patient while I showed him around and taught him some of the tedious technical information that was critical to sell our equipment to our biotech customers and hospitals, and he would repeat things back to me as though he knew them.

Training with our company usually consists of a couple of weeks of filling out paperwork, getting demonstration equipment together, and riding around with a few of us that have the same job, just to get a perspective of the sales process in our specialized field. Then you’re on your own. It can be a little intimidating at first to walk into a laboratory where the customer has relatively complete control of the situation and knowledge of your machinery that you don’t even have, and then try to convince them to buy it from you. To top things off, our company’s equipment is priced at a premium, so we are always faced with the fact that it costs more than our competitor’s—this requires some persuasive skills to justify the price difference, and technical knowledge to point out the subtle differences in quality.

For people who are unfamiliar with sales, a "close" or "closing technique" is the method that a salesperson uses to take the customer through the buying process with the logical conclusion of buying the product from you. It usually ends with a closing statement similar to a lawyer's summation--it incorporates the facts and puts the story together with a directed statement that motivates them to place an order. Zig Ziglar's "Secret's of Closing the Sale" is a great reference which lists very common closing techniques that are helpful.

When I think of the method that I usually use to close this type of sale, I consider it to be my own creation that perfectly fits technical sales:“Closing with Competence”—I demonstrate that the equipment works well, then I justify it by giving a little bit of technical data about the design to help the customer appreciate the difference. I am very professional, almost formal, in my presentation--I don’t talk about personal stuff at all, don’t joke around, and I follow up promptly in writing and with either a follow-up visit or call. It worked very well for me: In my first year, I outsold most of the veteran sales staff. In my second year, I outsold everyone.

I’m not sure why Kurt decided to get creative with the process, but I suspect he couldn’t remember the terminology very well—I noticed that the terms didn’t’ seem to hold much meaning for him, and he was more interested in the operation of the equipment than learning how it worked. When I first observed this, I thought “Fair enough” and thought that the terminology would come with time…but never seemed to get there.

Kurt started out on his own and took a while to get going. He wasn’t making many sales at all, and the manager asked me to ride along. He had his equipment set up and running perfectly, but when it came time to speak to the customer he stumbled through the presentation pretty badly. I could tell he was struggling, so I helped him out when he really got stuck—we ended up making the sale, but I don't think Kurt was too proud that it was necessary for me to help out.

In hour-long car ride to the next appointment, I mentioned to Kurt that the customers were probably picking up on the fact that he wasn’t comfortable with the equipment, and maybe it was coming across as forced or insincere. “It just takes a while to get it down,” I told him, but I could tell he was a little worried and frustrated.

When we got to the next appointment, Kurt stumbled again through the first few minutes of the presentation, then looked up at me like a horse with a broken leg waiting to be shot. I didn’t say anything. Then I saw him take a deep breath and his whole body went limp. And he delivered the most enigmatic speech I’ve heard in sales:

You know, I’m just a country boy from Oklahoma. I worked with the old version of these machines 25 years ago when I was in the army, but I’m really not technically minded. Hell, two months ago I had to sew up a momma cow’s uterus with a roll of baling wire! And here I am selling this equipment now…

(he motions to me) These college boys are brilliant. They can tell you how all these things work in words I can’t even understand, and if you want to know more about it, I can have him tell you. I don’t think I’ll ever know exactly all the science that makes this thing go, but I can tell you what I do know—this is a damn nice piece of equipment, and if I can make it work great like this, I know you can, too! It may cost a little more, but from what I’ve seen, there ain’t nothing like it anywhere else!

Inside, I was completely freaking out. Outside, however, I tried to remain calm and see what was going to happen. We were in Kurt’s turf, and I just trusted his instincts—in fact, it felt like the most sincere thing I had heard him say to a customer, so while it was a little shocking, it had actually sounded pretty good.

Luckily, the customer broke out in a big smile and agreed with Kurt—he had a sale!

I have to admit, I heard that part about the cow’s uterus a few too many times over the next year…and he would vary the pitch a little, but the theme stayed the same. In fact, he didn’t really ever get the terminology down.

A few months later, I was watching Saturday Night Live and I saw the following skit:

One hundred thousand years ago, a caveman was out hunting on the frozen wastes when he slipped and fell into a crevasse. In 1988, he was discovered by some scientists and thawed out. He then went to law school and became.. Unfrozen Caveman Lawyer.

When Phil Hartman delivers the closing statement to the jury, I realize that Kurt had (perhaps unwittingly) plagiarized this for his presentation:

Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I'm just a caveman. I fell on some ice and later got thawed out by some of your scientists. Your world frightens and confuses me! Sometimes the honking horns of your traffic make me want to get out of my BMW.. and run off into the hills, or wherever.. Sometimes when I get a message on my fax machine, I wonder: "Did little demons get inside and type it?" I don't know! My primitive mind can't grasp these concepts. But there is one thing I do know - when a man like my client slips and falls on a sidewalk in front of a public library, then he is entitled to no less than two million in compensatory damages, and two million in punitive damages. Thank you.

When I was describing this to a colleague, I laughingly told him that Kurt had taken my technique of “Closing with Competence” and turned it into the “Caveman Close”—it really only worked because he could work the equipment perfectly, and then act like it was no big deal. The “good ol’ boy” customer related to Kurt on a personal level, while the highly competent customer didn’t seem to get irritated with his admitted lack of competence and was impressed that the equipment was so easy to operate…. In fact, it really seemed to fit the Oklahoma demographic of understatement, hard work, unassuming demeanor, and not taking the technical things too seriously. I thought it was a great move for Kurt to adjust his sales technique to his own style, even though it was a dramatic departure from what most people did. This "Appeal to Simplicity" technique was sometimes part of what we used in our presentation, but for Kurt it was the focus of his presentation. I asked Kurt if that’s the same way he used to sell heavy machinery, and he told me “Heck no—I knew how every little switch and sensor worked on that stuff. I just can’t get the hang of all these levers and buttons on these things.”

I took this information and sometimes I even use it myself. In a couple of situations, usually with highly technical and analytical customers, I have noticed that, if you represent yourself as overly competent, they become challenged with discrediting you. Now, when I sense this, I incorporate a little of the Caveman Close and let them know “I may not be able to explain all the technical ins and outs of this procedure, but what I can tell you is that it’s the number one piece of equipment in the field.” This sometimes causes the prospect to settle down a little and focus more on the equipment and less on me.

As for Kurt—amazingly, after a year of selling, he had produced more in his territory than anyone had done before or has since he left. Our company had gotten him out of the small town and he moved on in a different career happier for the experience and opportunity.

It seems he was destined to leave his legacy in the form of the Caveman Close.