rather than universal, and external rather than personal—sold more insurance and survived in their jobs much longer. What’s more, explanatory style predicted performance with about the same accuracy as the most widely used insurance industry assessment for hiring agents. Optimism, it turns out, isn’t a hollow sentiment. It’s a catalyst that can stir persistence, steady us during challenges, and stoke the confidence that we can influence our surroundings.
Norman Hall has the optimistic explanatory style down. When he was rejected, as he was several times during the sales calls on which I joined him, he explained the rejections as temporary, specific, or external. The jewelry store owner was busy with a customer and couldn’t focus on brushes. The maintenance guy hadn’t carefully assessed his supplies yet. The clothing store manager was probably having cash-flow problems in a tight economy. When I asked him about these rebuffs, Hall was unperturbed. “I’m a damn good salesman,” he told me. “You have to keep going. That’s it.”
Still, the glasses Hall wears have clear lenses—not rose-colored ones. He finds some customers annoying. He admits to taking some rejections personally. He’s had plenty of grim, unpleasant days. But negative events can clarify positive ones. They equip Hall not with weak-kneed dreaminess but with tough-minded buoyancy—the proper balance between downward and upward forces. His is not blind optimism but what Seligman calls “flexible optimism—optimism with its eyes open.” 20
—
T he first thing we hear is panting. That’s followed by the clumpety-clump of four feet on the hallway carpet. Penelope Chronis and Liz Kreher, their dog in tow, are arriving to open their office and begin their day. They are surprised to see Norman Hall—they’d placed their order less than twenty-four hours ago—but are delighted to get their electrostatic carpet sweeper and stainless-steel scrubbers. It also turns out that they know Beth, the woman from the break room, and encourage Hall to use their names as a way for him to gain credibility.
His delivery made, Hall and I walk down the corridor toward Beth’s office. At this point, I feel like my presence is cramping Hall’s style. He doesn’t need a wingman on this sales call, so when he enters her lobby, I head for the elevators.
It’s about 11:00 A.M. when we split paths, and I wait for Hall on the sidewalk in front of 530 Bush Street. Beth had shown barely a crease of interest in brushes or much else back in the break room, so I expect Hall to be down by 11:05. He’s not.
Nor is he down at 11:10. Or 11:15. Or 11:20.
It’s not until nearly 11:25 that Hall pushes through the glass doors on the ground level of the office building and walks toward the sidewalk.
I look at him but don’t say a word. I just open my palms upward and raise my eyebrows to ask, “Well?”
He shakes his head and, with the forefinger of his right hand extended parallel to the ground, he makes a slashing motion across this throat.
No sale.
We walk in silence for maybe eight steps. Then the last Fuller Brush Man in San Francisco turns to me and says, “But I think there’s going to be a chance to get her next time.”
SAMPLE CASE
Buoyancy
Be like Bob: Practice interrogative self-talk.
Next time you’re getting ready to persuade others, reconsider how you prepare. Instead of pumping yourself up with declarations and affirmations, take a page from Bob the Builder and pose a question instead.
Ask yourself: “Can I move these people?”
As social scientists have discovered, interrogative self-talk is often more valuable than the declarative kind. But don’t simply leave the question hanging in the air like a lost balloon. Answer it—directly and in writing. List five specific reasons why the answer to your question is yes. These reasons will remind you of the strategies that you’ll need to be effective on the task, providing a sturdier and
Enid Blyton
Michael Anthony
Isolde Martyn
Sabrina Jeffries
Dean Lorey
Don Pendleton
Lynne Marshall
Madeline Baker
Michael Kerr
Humphry Knipe