Monday, August 30, 2010

EVALUATING SALES PERFORMANCE



It happens in most sales organisations: A salesman gets dismissed and the rest of the sales team and the whole company, for that matter, view this unfortunate person with disappointment and contempt. And they soon consider this matter finalized by starting to advertise for another sales person, expecting him to obtain more orders than the past one.

But was it really that person’s fault? Does the company not take at least part of the blame for that representative’s shortcomings?

When investigating this matter and talking with the bosses, we will discover a kind of prevailing shallowness, aloofness and, yes, ignorance in this matter.

They may state with irritation: ‘Oh, he didn’t get his act together!’ or ‘he didn’t pull his finger out!’ or similar unprofessional platitudes.

Further probing is necessary: ’ What, exactly, was wrong with him?’ ‘Well, he didn’t pull his finger out!’ was repeated – clearly not an expert’s answer!

Here are some of the questions that should be answered:

1. Was it lack of motivation?

Was he appreciated in the company?

Did he receive any encouragements? Does he have any

opportunity for advancement?

2. Were there problems with time-management?

Was he shown how to organise himself best? Was

he shown how to use a day- book, a customer file, how to process his

Orders or sent to a course to learn word- precessing?

Did he receive too many private phone calls when out on calls?

Was he given too other, non-sales- tasks that were cutting into his

selling time?

3. Was it possible for him to get around quick enough in his territory?

Was his sales territory profitable at all or were they remote, deserted,

country towns in the middle of a drought and therefore without any hope

of obtaining orders?

Did a superior spend some time with him on the road to asses his sales

skills?

4. Did he have enough product knowledge?

Has he received sufficient company training or was he simply ‘thrown to

the wolves'?

5. Did he have the necessary social skills?

Being introverted is not necessarily a bad thing but did he have

manners, dress agreeably, and conversed in an educated way? All these

skills are needed for social and business interacting!

6. Did he have any sales training?

The nicest person will not make a product change hands if he does not

know how to probe for buying signals, how to identify a prospective

customer and how to close a sale.

7. Did he have the right sales support?

Has the company been supporting him in his sales activities?

That is, did he have enough samples, catalogues, swatches, point-of-

sales material and was there enough stock to sell from? Was there prompt

delivery and friendly customer service?

Sometimes, a superficial superior may have a quick remark in this

matter:

‘Well, everybody else is in the same boat and they are doing all right!’

But was he getting his fair share of everything?

8. How long has he been ineffective as a sales person?

If it took the company a year to find this out, isn’t there something

wrong

with that person's superiors?

9. Did he have any personal problems?

Maybe he was going through a nasty relationship breakup, was grieving

for somebody dear to him or is studying in the night for more qualifications? Has he

a gambling problems, substance abuse, or is there an illness that is

impairing his work?

These probing questions may be considered inappropriate by some superiors or even sissy. ‘We do not mollycoddle our employees..’ may be their reply. But are they justified in saying this? Or is it merely a wiggling-out of a manager’s responsibilities?

When following-up on these questions, we will invariably find a management that is wanting, to say the least! It may show Insensitivity bordering on brutality, ignorance and superficiality. And problems with the superiors may come to the fore, highlighting their incompetence and dishonesty to their company.

And that’s where the improvements must start! Right with the employment of the salesman’s superiors which is, of course, the task of the higher management.

And suddenly, we may find the whole competency of an organisation being questioned, which is always positive step. Top managers and CEOs may need to avail themselves of the services of an industrial psychologist to establish the true aptitude, intelligence and skill of their managers they entrust with a team of people.


Peter Frederick

http://www.peterfrederick.org
http://www.life-on-the-road.com

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Wednesday, August 25, 2010

AGAINST THE WHOLE TOWN!

Clearly, I had the whole town against me! It was, admittedly, a small country community, but most of the population seemed to be here. Town councillors, the town engineer and financial controller, the hospital C.E.O., the local flooring company, including the floor layer who installed the vinyl flooring in this newly built hospital, the local press – at least I hoped that they were local and not state-wide – the hospital cleaner, the head nurse, they all were there waiting for my reaction at seeing their brand new hospital flooring.

Judging by their damning looks they had already made up their mind: ‘This flooring installation has gone wrong and it is the manufacturer’s fault! Why, the floor layer himself, is most upset about all this and since he was a ‘bloody good bloke’: a good member of the golf club, a shouter of drinks at the pub, and with a wife who is well known for her local charity work, it cannot possibly his fault'. Such was their reasoning.

‘And here comes this outsider from Melbourne, representing an overseas manufacturer, in a business suit, why, he looks as guilty as hell. Just look at him – he’s never done any real work!’

This was the message their dark and bitter looks conveyed to me when I introduced myself. Upon offering my business cards, a lot of hands snatched them out of my hand. The architect stepped forward, since the hospital committee and the local council were his clients.

‘Peter, this is the floor we talked about on the telephone. As you can see, the installation is unacceptable!’

We were standing at the entrance and looking inside, towards the reception and further down the hall into the interior. Since the daylight was excellent we all could see the complaint immediately. There were so-called ‘bubbles’ everywhere, the vinyl seemed to be blistering, and in the light, everything was so much more noticeable.

Now the crowd all raised their voices in disgust, trying to outdo each other.

As a routine, I said nothing but went through my standard procedure of checking my facts, point by point. However, it was difficult to make my assessment, to concentrate and ignore the background commotion.

Yes, the substrate was smooth enough, my moisture meter showed a negative reading, the blisters, when depressed, did not stay down, even for a moment before bouncing back with a ‘click’, the seams of the vinyl sheets were heat-welded to a good standard…

I continued my investigation and when I pulled out of my satchel an electric microscope, placed in on the floor and squinted at he vinyl pores, I seemed to gain a few points in the eyes of the onlookers.

Step-by-step I continued and by process of elimination, kept narrowing down the possible cause of this terrible installation. When I finally pulled back a corner of the installed vinyl and saw a whitish, powdery substance, with no trace of adhesion, the cause was clear. I straightened up and brushed the dust from my suit, especially from my knee area. Sweating slightly, I looked at the notes I’d made so far and knew from years of experience that there was uproar in store for me.

‘Well? What do you have to say for yourself?’ the floor layer said, stepping forward, with a defiant lower lip and his chin jutting out.

Everybody else seemed to be searching for the right words of condemnation for me and my flooring product.

I ignored him and directed my words to my client, the architect. ‘I am sorry, John, but this flooring has been installed with the wrong adhesive.’

‘Whaaat?’ An incredulous shout rent the air.

‘Yes,’ I continued ‘It has been installed using a latex-based adhesive whereas we specify a water-based acrylic adhesive.’ All eyes went to the floor layer who assumed a scandalised expression.

‘Which adhesive did you use? I asked him.

‘Well,’ he shouted at me enraged ‘which adhesive do you recommend?’

‘There are a number of very good adhesives that can be used for our vinyl floorings’.

‘Name one!’ he cried defiantly.

‘One such would be Orion 606, another one that can be used is…..’ but I did not get any further.

‘That’s the one I used!’ moisture was spraying my face as he bawled out his words.

‘That is very unlikely as the powdery residue shows a latex glue……’ To interrupt one seemed to be the acceptable standard in this town.

As everybody was siding with him, the floor layer continued:

‘Listen mate, I am using no other adhesive but the one you recommend.’

The crowd nodded as if they had known this all along. And with encouraging looks they seemed to appeal to him to go on and ‘sort this fella out’.

‘For your information, I am using no other adhesive – I have no other adhesive in my car! So, how can I have used the wrong adhesive? Tell me that, ha?’

Again this logic worked on everybody present.

I had to say something: ‘Well, I do not know what’s in your car, but this flooring has been installed with the wrong adhesive, hence nothing sticks properly. The material expansions are due to the air temperature causing the vinyl to lift off the floor and also around the edges……’

Suddenly the pandemonium reached a new level and I would not have been surprised if somebody had shouted ‘Hang him!’

‘Do you want to come to my car and have a look? Do you want to see what’s in my car? I have no other adhesive products in my car than the one you recommend! Do you want to see? Do you, do you?’ Again the floor layer screamed, clearly in a rage.

As everybody started to turn and walk towards his clearly marked panel van, parked at a short distance away, I had no choice but to collect my instruments and papers and head for the car as well, with the hostile crowd escorting me.

On the way, nobody talked to me and I had the feeling that somebody was already slinging a noose over a tree branch!

Leading the way was the floor layer his face leathery and expressionless but his body language was clearly saying to everybody the immortal words: ‘J’accuse!’

Finally we reached his car and without hesitation he opened its back door to invite a public inspection of its interior. It was full of pailes of adhesives, for all purposes and all brands – except the one he should have used to install the hospital flooring!


Peter Frederick

http://www.peterfrederick.org
http://www.life-on-the-road.com

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Saturday, August 21, 2010

HIS DAUGHTER'S EYES......




HIS DAUGHTER’S EYES, THEY FILL WITH TEARS.

IT’S FOR MY FAMILY, SHE FEARS,

BECAUSE I MARRIED THE WRONG MAN

AND LOVED HIM AS A WOMAN CAN

HE DOES NOT WORK AND SITS AT HOME,

TO THE PUB HE DOES SOMETIMES ROAM,

WITH DEPTS ALL OVER OUR PLACE,

IT’S FOR THE FAMILY HE SAYS.


THE DAUGHTER’S EYES, THEY PLEAD FOR HELP,

FOR FOOD THE LITTLE CHILDREN YELP,

MY PRIDE IS GONE AND ALL MY DREAMS,

MY BEAUTY WANING FAST, IT SEEMS,

I BEG YOU DADDY, FOR SOME MONEY

I AM IN TROUBLES, IT IS NOT FUNNY,

MY DREAMS ARE GONE……….


AT THE BEGIN, ALL SEEMS SO WELL

THE BUSINESS BOOMING, WHAT THE HELL,

IF LITTLE BILLS REMAIN UNPAID,

LEAVE IT JUST TO ME, HE SAID.

WITH LOVE AND TRUST I WENT ALONG

IGNORING PHONECALLS AND REMINDERS,

TRUST ME……..


Peter Frederick

http://www.peterfrederick.org
http://www.life-on-the-road.com

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Saturday, August 14, 2010

From my book ‘ON THE ROAD AGAIN’

Back in Melbourne, it took me a while to recover from the bout of this new strain of flu which, in the meantime, had reached our shores. I still cringe at the thought that I may have started this flu epidemic here. But eventually, I was on the road again and busily calling on my customers and clients, physically somewhat weaker but wiser in product knowledge.

It was our monthly sales meeting in the office of my managing director, Declan Doherty. As usual, we were all there: myself, my colleague Ken Butterfield and our receptionist, the lovely Marilyn Bevan who had just brought us our morning coffee, steaming hot with a biscuit on the side. Sometimes our bookkeeper lady, Norma Hazelwood, would join us with her concertina-type computer readout for her various comments about our customers and their payment patterns.

Ken Butterfield, an extrovert, was as noisy as ever. ‘Hey Pete, what did you get? Cappuccino? I like my coffee like my women – black and strong!’ He nodded happily to himself and took his first sip. An ‘Ah!’ emanated from his lips, followed by further sipping sounds.

‘Thank you all for being on time – so let’s start this meeting!’ The resonant voice of Declan, my boss, sounded this morning especially fruity and well-rounded. It was like hearing a Shakespearean actor and It never failed to impress me. I could picture him on stage or maybe in a pulpit, dressed as a bishop. He was always well-shaven and in his tailor-made suit, with his elegant manners, he was the epitome of a successful company executive.

Ken, my colleague, eased himself back in his comfortable chair and tried to draw another careful sip from his cup which was still far too hot for a proper gulp. For a moment, he looked bothered because this was the time of the day when he really needed a cup of coffee.

He was a pleasant colleague, with great knowledge of the flooring industry, but he was also equipped with lots of gossip and funny anecdotes which sometimes bordered on the weird. Also, he had the habit of uttering words and phrases that were rather uncommon: ‘When cocky was an egg’, for example. If a landmark was imposing and could not be missed, he described it as ‘standing out like dog balls’.

Also with us this morning was Lionel Harting, our sales representative from South Australia, a well dressed, quiet gentleman whose heavily lined face showed the stress and strain he faced obtaining business in his state. But despite all these worries, he was also a scoutmaster with a very successful group of boys who were winning awards at state-wide scouting competitions.

Norma came into the meeting with her voluminous computer readout and dropped it with a heavy thud onto the large conference table, thereby creating the desired attention. With her horn-rimmed glasses, she looked around at everybody. I must say that I felt straightaway guilty because some of my customers were very bad payers of their bills.

Marilyn, having finished serving everyone coffee or tea, left the room. As always, she carried out her tasks with care and kindness. However, I noticed her eyes were somewhat reddish, as if she had been crying and I made a mental note to find out what was the matter with her.

I was brought back from my thoughts by Declan’s beautiful BBC voice. It reminded me of a recent meeting we had with Melbourne’s health authorities. Declan and I had gone to the head offices of this government office for a meeting that was attended by about eight top health officials, all wanting to know about the latest in flooring technology.

Declan took control of this meeting by making a speech about our company, the latest products and how we could help arrest the spiralling maintenance costs in various institutions like hospitals, nursing homes, schools etc. His Shakespearean voice sounded so pleasant, his accent so superior, clear and precise. His speech was peppered with special phrases and words which have such a hold over our lives. There were plenty of ‘however’ and ‘furthermore’ to be heard, plus ‘one ought to appreciates’ ‘it is often said’, and ‘in the light of’. I listened with rapture to his resounding and superior diction, wistfully thinking ‘if only I could speak like that, everybody else seemed to be under the same spell as they listened to Declan’s intonations.

He spoke with gusto, letting the words dissolve slowly on his tongue. But apparently he got carried away by the spell of his own words. He must have listened too much to himself because suddenly he stopped, looked up at me and asked in front of everybody: ‘Peter, what are we talking about?’

The shock I felt was instantaneous. ‘About the resilience of our floorings, their ball bouncing properties, space indentations versus point indentations’. I threw him a lifeline, which he took up immediately and away he went, massaging our eardrums with his speech. I had thus saved the day.

Returning to the current situation, to our Monday morning meeting, I found Declan dealing with sales promotion campaigns, such as giving product presentations to groups of architects. But the largest company promotion was planned for the end of the year - an Apprentice of the Year competition to be held in Sydney, with all important personalities from the trade and Government attending.

‘Peter’, he faced me with a challenging glance ‘I would like you to contact the offices of Albermann & Silver for a lunch-time promotion. They are currently working on important projects, as you are aware of, and I am not sure that they are fully informed of our product range.’ He nodded in self-confirmation. ‘Please give them a call and arrange for a suitable day and time.’

‘Yes, of course,’ I heard myself say, ’now that we have received new samples and catalogues I could make it a really good product presentation!’ ‘Splendid, Peter, I leave the details up to you!’

‘And everybody else, that is, Lionel and Ken, please prepare a list of suitable prospective clients we could approach with similar activities.’ Everybody nodded in agreement. ‘Norma, what do you have to say?’ he handed the meeting over to her. Whereupon Norma burst into a lengthy litany about customers who do not pay their bills. She looked at us representatives with eyes saddened by such human depravity. I noted down some well-known habitual recidivists from my own sales territory and felt a trifle shameful as if it was my own fault.

When she had finished, Norma almost lovingly stroked her thick concertina folder, then took it in her arms and walked out of our meeting. Her back was straight and her chin held high as her mission was accomplished!

‘Well, gentlemen, I thank you for coming and wish you all a successful week! And then Declan followed up with his standard joke: ’Don’t sell too much, ha, ha’

With coffee and biscuits consumed, we slowly filed out of the meeting room and into our main office where we found our desks littered with little notes and messages.

‘Here are some more messages for you, Peter!’ the gentle voice of Marilyn reminded me. Looking up from my clipboard, I noticed again her reddish, sad eyes.

Taking the set of messages I started a conversation: ‘Thank you, Marilyn. And I’ve brought you something from the towns I’ve visited, something for your souvenir spoon collection.’ I handed her three silver-looking spoons with special heraldry at the end of the handle. She had asked me once shyly whether it was possible for me to bring her the occasional spoon from my country trips and I had accepted this as one of my standard tasks. From then on, after every trip, I would bring her some spoons and she must have had a sizeable collection by now.

‘Marilyn, what’s wrong with you? You seem to be very sad or upset today’ I probed. ‘Is there anything I may help you with?’ Whilst her gentle eyes welled up with tears that ran down her pussycat face, she confided in me that Frank, her boyfriend, had been unfaithful to her. It was something she had never expected and this is breach of trust was destroying her.

This was serious! I tried to comfort her as best as I could and she did appear to be a bit relieved to have the opportunity of confiding in someone. .

A phone call interrupted our sensitive moment. Norma was pointing to my desk where a receiver, seemingly impatient, was waiting for me.

‘Hi Pete, it’s Lyle Barkman here. How are you today?’ It was a retailer and he sounded like he wanted something from me. ’Pete, as you know, business is a bit quiet at the moment and I wonder if it is possible for you to recommend me a bit. As you know, I have a floor layer and some staff in the shop……….’

I felt embarrassed about being asked for help. ‘Of course, Lyle, I know you give good service and the standard of your flooring installations is excellent. I shall gladly recommend your services. Would you post me some business cards of yours? I would make good use of them. Don’t worry, times may be tough but we see this through together.’

‘Thank you very much, Pete. I appreciate your help!’ Lyle assured me.

As soon as I replaced the receiver, the phone rang again. ‘This is Joan Madison from the Coonan hospital. We have a complaint about your flooring: it is difficult to maintain……’

I knew from experience that there is no use in trying to convince someone over the telephone about the simplest way of maintaining the floor. By the way she described the floor getting darker all the time, I knew they did not change the mopping-up water in the bucket. Naturally, the water gets dirtier and dirtier until it cannot clean any more but leave a dirty slurry on the floor surface.

The best way to handle this was to go there, get the cleaning staff together and demonstrate this most simple procedure of mopping and changing water in the bucket. I always did this with cheerfulness and used to end the demonstration of a clean floor with the words ‘There you are – and I am only a rep!’ Therefore, I made an appointment with Joan to go and give my cleaning demonstration.

After this phone call, I got up, ready to leave as I had a list of calls waiting for my visits and the office was getting busier by the minute. Marilyn, sweet little Marilyn, was talking to people on the switchboard, finding out what they actually wanted before switching them through to the appropriate person.

A temporary accounts girl was busily processing a stack of data in front of her, accomplishing this task with nimble fingers racing over her keyboard. She was oblivious to everything around her, utterly absorbed by the task.

Norma was on the phone again, speaking with tardy customers about overdue payments with a fixed expression on her face that seemed to say: ‘Don’t give me that excuse!’

Then she dropped everything, stood up, straightened her dress with the flat of her hand then quickly walked through our large office into the ladies room.

I followed her with bored eyes. ‘Nothing unusual here’, I thought, but the pneumatic door may have not been working properly because it took a longer time to close. Just before it did, I had a glimpse of Norma absentmindedly hiking up her dress before entering a cubicle, revealing large grey bloomers before the slow-closing door blocked this not very pretty sight!

‘Oh, for heavens’ sake, pull yourself together!’ I reprimanded myself and impatiently walked out of the office.

My last glimpse was of Declan still talking to somebody in his elegant office and waving me ‘Good bye’ with an elegant wave of his hand that showed off a golden Rolex watch.

Peter Frederick

http://www.peterfrederick.org
http://www.life-on-the-road.com

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Wednesday, August 11, 2010

A BOY'S POEM


I WANT TO BE A DOG


OF ALL THE CREATURES YOU CAN SEE

A DOG IS ALL I WANT TO BE;

I WOULD BE STRONG AND LIKE A KNIGHT

PROTECT FROM ANYTHING IN SIGHT

MY DEAREST HUMAN FAMILY.


IT CERTAINLY GOES WITHOUT SAYING

THAT I JOIN ALL THE CHILDREN’S PLAYING

AND LICK AND SNUGGLE UP AT NIGHT

TOGETHER, EVERYTHING IS RIGHT,

NEVER IN MY DOGHOUSE STAYING.


I WOULD BE KIND AND UNDERSTANDING

AND NEVER OVERLY DEMANDING,

MAKE SURE MY HUMANS STAY TOGETHER,

AS LOVING FAMILY, FOREVER,

WITH MY CARING NEVER-ENDING.


Peter Frederick

http://www.peterfrederick.org
http://www.life-on-the-road.com

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