focus on relationships
Fourteen years ago, I owned a beat up sedan with hundreds of thousands of miles and various and assorted problems. I was early in my career, did not have a great credit score, and was working on a twelve-month plan to save a down payment on a new-to-me car. I stopped into a car dealership just to see what used cars cost, and a salesman approached me.
His objection handling was incredible:
I was worried about my credit score: he could arrange financing.
I didn't have my (arbitrary) $1200 saved yet: he said that was fine.
I didn't have my checkbook: he suggested I drive home and get it – in the new car!
I didn't have anyone with me to drive my current car home: he encouraged me to leave it there on the lot and pick it up at my convenience.
Perhaps he couldn't find anyone else who wanted this old two-door sedan with a manual transmission, but I couldn’t believe at the time that anyone would sell me a car of any kind. He gained a customer and I got a car.
His name is Jason, which I still remember because he has sent me a Christmas card and a birthday postcard every year since. Sometimes in the Christmas cards, he is dressed up as Santa, or a postcard shows him holding out a birthday cake. These are not fancy images or customized messages, but they are very well timed. My birthday is in May, which is a particularly effective schedule for this strategy – every six months or so, year after year, I received a note in the mail reminding me of his name, face, and phone number.
Seven years later, I had put plenty of miles on that car. The two-door model was no longer ideal, as I was struggling to secure an infant carrier in the back seat while leaning over the folded forward passenger seat. I had a solid credit score and interest rates were near zero. Armed with a recent postcard from Jason, I called to see what my options were. He was happy to lease me a brand new car – with four doors! When my lease ended a few years later and used cars were widely unavailable (remember when the economy ran out of cars?), I called Jason and arranged to buy out my lease.
I kept getting the cards, twice a year.
When my mother-in-law needed a car and asked about mine, I remembered that a birthday postcard had referenced a referral program. When I sent my mother-in-law to Jason and she bought a new car from him, the dealership sent me $100!
Last spring, I called Jason. I told him which car I wanted and offered him my previously leased and purchased vehicle, for a trade. A few days later, I traded in my car for a new one. All sorts of emails and websites and mobile banking apps offered to arrange for me to sell my car and buy a new one, and after considering various options for nearly a year, I found it easier - more familiar, more predictable, more friendly - to call Jason and make a deal.
In the last 14 years, Jason has sold three cars to me and one to my mother-in-law. They’ve been progressively nicer (read: more expensive) cars over the years, and most recently he also got the trade.
If he hadn't maneuvered such spectacular objection handling in the first place - all with a smile - I never would have bought that first car from him.
If he hadn't sent me a Christmas card and a birthday postcard every year since, I wouldn't have remembered what dealership he worked at, never mind his first and last name.
And without that referral program, I would have never thought to point my mother-in-law his way.
How can you go above and beyond to earn a customer or attract a donor? Consistency wins over fancy, every time. What extra things can you do – small, personal, inexpensive – that would make a difference? How can you stay connected, beyond the normal automated messages of today, to be memorable and to build trust?