Power Questions: Build Relationships, Win New Business, and Influence Others

2
If You Don't Want to Hit Bottom, Stop
Digging the Hole
Even when I think about it today, it still makes me cringe. It was an
embarrassing moment of youthful naïveté. I wanted to shine, but I fell flat
on my face.
The 1960s pop group Procol Harum said it perfectly when they sang, “My
befuddled brain is shining brightly, quite insane.”
We're meeting with a major telecommunications company that my
consulting firm wants to do business with. I'm a newly promoted partner in
the firm. I am eager—oh, so eager—to make my mark by acquiring a major
new client.
I'm determined to make this meeting a success. I arrive armed to the teeth.
Masses of supporting evidence. We will establish ourselves as not just the
best choice but the only consultant of choice for this company.
There are three of us and five of them. Several of their group are vice
presidents with significant responsibilities. Not at the top, but senior
enough. They invite us into a spacious conference room. It's not the
boardroom—the table has a black laminated top instead of hardwood. But
it's sufficiently elegant. We look around approvingly.
I bring thick binders for them. Hefty decks of PowerPoint slides. Plenty
of in-depth documentation.
It turns out that was absolutely the wrong kind of preparation.
I should have studied Woodrow Wilson. He said, “If I am to speak 10
minutes, I need a week for preparation. If 15 minutes, three days. If half an
hour, two days. If an hour, I am ready now.” I was certainly not prepared for
brevity.
Then the first question from the client, the initial salvo. It's a softball
pitch. Hard to mess that up.

---

“Tell us a bit about yourselves.”
I want to leave no doubt in their minds that we are uniquely qualified to
help them. I tell them about the history of our firm, how it was formed by
the merger of two other consulting firms. Having lived through it myself, I
thought the story fascinating.
I describe our client base. I walk though some of our most important
methodologies. I tell them about our joint-team approach to collaborating
with clients. About how well we listen (I am too young to appreciate the
irony of that claim).
I cannot bear to spare any of the essential facts. Facts that I know will
impress them and make them quick to retain us. On the spot.
I am so focused on our qualifications, however, that I pretty much forget
the client on the other side of the table. I don't realize how fast time flies
when you're talking.
After nearly 30 minutes, my colleagues and I finally stop our
presentation. There is silence.
One of the vice presidents reaches for something in a pile of folders. Is it
a copy of their strategic plan they want to share with us? An organization
chart to illustrate who else we should speak to at the company?
No. She is grabbing her appointment book. “This has been very helpful,
thank you. I really do have to run to another meeting now.”
It's too late! We have built little personal rapport—actually none. We have
achieved virtually no understanding of their goals, their issues, or their
challenges. We lost our chance. Now we're being escorted out.
(Writing this, I hear the refrain from Bob Dylan's song “My Back Pages”
echoing in my head: “Ah, but I was so much older then, I'm younger than
that now.” I'm reminded there are no mistakes in life, only lessons).
Fast forward. It's now a year later. I am on a very similar sales call with
my senior partner, DeWitt. He is a veteran of hundreds of such meetings. A
wise sage. And the client asks us the same question: “Why don't you start
by telling us about your firm?”
DeWitt pauses thoughtfully. He looks up, and asks, “What would you like
to know about us?” Then he is silent.
(Often, we ask a question, and when there is even a small silence we ask
it again in slightly different words. We can't resist filling the silence. Not

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DeWitt—he is very comfortable with silence. He long ago told me, “Once
you've made your pitch, or you ask a question, shut up!”).
The client suddenly gets more specific. “Well, we are of course broadly
familiar with what you do. I'd like to understand in particular what your
capabilities are in Asia, and also how you work together internally.” This
leads to an interactive and engaged conversation.
“I'm curious. Can you say more about ‘working together internally’?”
DeWitt asks. “What prompted you to raise that?” He poses some more
thoughtful questions. He shares with them a few examples of our recent
client assignments. These are interesting stories that highlight how we have
helped similar clients.
Because of DeWitt's questions, we learn about a bad experience this
company had with another consulting firm. That firm had advertised
themselves as being global, but the parts did not work together well. We
learn about the client's expansion plans for Asia. We find out why they are
seeking outside help.
DeWitt does something else I've never forgotten. He praises me to the
client. Me, not himself! Instead of talking about his 25 years of experience
—about his commanding knowledge of the industry—he talks about how
lucky he is to have me on the team. He says I'm one of their brightest young