Sam Smiley went into sales because everyone told him he’d be a natural. He was affable, caring, beloved by old ladies and gents, wee babies and young nannies. Sam took to sales like a duck to water until business fell off and he had to sink or swim. No matter how much Sam sweet-talked his customers and asked about their children, he wasn’t able to meet his sales targets. Now he’s going to lose his job.
Sam doesn’t understand why other sales people make their numbers and he doesn’t. Sure, they’re more aggressive than he, but Smiley’s all personality and when you’re all personality, how can you lose? He describes himself as warm, witty, and with all humility, rather wonderful; the guy you trust with your kids, your grandma, and your private thoughts. Sure, he has flaws, but good ones. For example, he doesn’t like conflict, but who does? He’s been known to put up with people who offend, and take advantage, but doesn’t that demonstrate strength, not weakness?
No matter how gray the day, Sam has a ready smile and a snap in his step as he does what he loves to do most; sell himself. When that’s what is required, he’s the most successful salesman of them all. Regrettably, for Sam, it takes more than that.
Sam Smiley was shocked when he was fired. Why, it was downright unseemly that it could happen to such a nice fellow.
Sam is representative of many employees for whom harmony and the acceptance and approval of others are prerequisites for self- confidence. They have an ever optimistic, albeit naïve belief that they can manage around difficult people and troublesome issues by avoiding or ignoring that they exist. When the worst case happens, and the bad situation explodes, the Smiley’s implode. They’re overwhelmed by miscalculation and inevitability. They collapse into a compost of conflicting emotion. Their characteristic warmth, grace, and charm morph into fear, anger and anxiety. Let’s call it the “What will the neighbors think?” syndrome. What do his colleagues think? Let’s ask them.
Mr. Smiley’s Boss: “Sam Smiley is one heckuva nice fella. We loved having him around. I can’t tell you that he accomplished much, but he sure was pleasant. His customers loved him like a brother, and vendors preferred dealing with Sam to the rest of us. That’s not a surprise. Sam would give you the shirt off his back. That’s a nice personal trait but if Sam didn’t have a shirt, he’d give you ours. He refused to negotiate. He was so afraid of customers getting angry with him, he’d say yes to any proposal they’d make. They’d take advantage of Sam’s good nature and as a result, we’d lose money. For a long time I saw it as a trade-off: Sam had great relationship skills so customers were loyal to him. That worked as long as business was good. Business isn’t good now. We need relationship people who are looking out for us. Sam doesn’t have what it takes to work in a tight and competitive market. We’ll miss him, but we can’t afford to keep him.”
Smiley’s peers were glad to be rid of him. When Sam would promise a customer a delivery date that he couldn’t meet, he pass the blame to the warehouse or distribution center for missing the target. When Sam would cut a deal that was too good to be true, he’d blame his boss for killing it. Sam wanted to look good and it was always at the expense of his co-workers and his company.
Customer service staff was often on the receiving end of a very different Mr. Smiley. To them he was moody, evasive, and difficult to predict. Rather than ask him questions and tempt his unpredictable temper, they’d leave him alone. Sam seemed to prefer it that way.
Sam, you can continue to avoid problems but you can’t avoid the consequences of them. You’re older now and less resilient, in a market that’s mature and less forgiving. It’s too late to rescue this job, but not too late to rescue your career.
