There was a pause now as Keith
contemplated what he’d just heard. Bosco
knew this was the time to be quiet and he put his finger to his lips and looked
at me carefully. I nodded and waited for
Keith to speak.
“Now you think this is ‘sick’, right
Michael?”
“Well, yeah. Someone’s going to sue our guy and then where
are we?”
“Why’s he going to sue?” Keith was probing now and he was making sure
that my objection was real.
“Well, you shaved his friggin’ head,
didn’t you?”
“So what?” asked Bosco. “Nobody forced him. Hell, we even ask his permission, you okay
with that?”
“Do we need to have him sign a release
form?” Keith asked.
“Better than that. We show him the service contract before we
even start shaving. We let him know everything
about it. We answer all his questions,
heading off any other objections at the same time. By the time he agrees to have the hair put on
his head, he’s ready to sign the contract anyway.”
“But what do we have to protect our guy if
the prospect gets pissed?” I persisted.
“You don’t need anything,” Bosco answered
quickly. “What’s he going to do, say
that we drugged him and slapped a unit on his head while he was sleeping it
off?”
“We’re not doing anything like that,”
Keith responded quickly.
“No we’re not,” I agreed. “My point is that we need to protect
ourselves in case we piss off the wrong prospect.”
“We’ll let the lawyers figure that one
out,” Bosco said with a little smile.
“Fine, fine” said Keith. He was gearing himself up for a final flurry
of questions and this time his attention was entirely on Bosco. He spoke slowly this time, like he was
working on a difficult puzzle that he was close to finishing.
“Bosco, how does all of this help us sell
more units? Now, before you answer that,
I want you to consider that you’ve just made the goddamn things completely
worthless by giving them all away.”
“Exactly!”
Bosco replied. “We’ve shifted all
of the value in the sales process to the service. This makes the studio more valuable to the
guy wearing our hair than ever before.
If the studio makes more on service and gets his clients into the habit
of coming in every six weeks to make everything look good...”
“And this service plan is all pre-paid,
right?” Keith interrupted.
“Right!
So there’s no excuse financially for the client not to come in. Hell, he can come in every four weeks for all
we care. The more units the studio gives
away as part of the prepaid service program, the more units we sell to the
studio!”
You could almost hear Keith’s mind work on
the other end of the line. He was
looking at Bosco’s proposal from every possible angle, looking for the flaw
that would kill it. I was doing the same
thing, but I had to admit that I thought it was very clever. None of us spoke as I watched Bosco lean
forward to the speakerphone. This was a
tense moment and I had to marvel at how Bosco could keep himself in check. A less disciplined man would have asked Keith
a question, looking to surface any objection he might have, but Bosco knew that
at this time, it was best to wait.
A long minute passed before we heard
anything out of the speakerphone. Keith
exhaled into his phone and then he heard him laugh. Bosco sat upright and turned to me with a big
smile on his face. Keith began to laugh
harder and then Bosco joined in.
“Brilliant, Bosco!” Keith exclaimed. “No, no that’s really brilliant! It’s so simple and so pure!”
“Thank you.”
“I swear to god, Michael, your old boss is
the slickest operator in the world.
You’re a lucky guy to have spent so much time working with him. There are people in our business who would
pay…hell, who have paid a fortune to have him come in and work with them
for just a few days. And you’ve been
with him for years. Dammit! You’re a goddamn genius, Bosco!”
Bosco was really animated now. He was standing up and walking around the
room, speaking loudly so that he could be heard on the speakerphone.
“The tough part is going to be training
all of the studios how to get over their own belief that the hair is actually
worth anything. We’re going to have to
work hard to beat this. These guys spend
tens of thousands of dollars a year on our hair and we have to get them used to
spending even more.”
“You think we should send the salesmen out
to their clients?” Keith asked.
“God, no!
Keith, you do that and this will all fail. No, we have to offer them real education by
qualified instructors. PhDs. I mean it.”
“Where the hell you gonna find a professor
of sales?”
“You’re talking to him.”
“Oh Christ.”
“Come on, Keith. Who the hell else knows this as well as I
do? No one! We’ll run a three-day class somewhere, Vegas
maybe. We’ll invite them to come out and
learn the greatest, most fantastic way to grow their businesses, charge ‘em a
few bucks and they’ll climb over each other to get there. Because nothing’s working, Keith. They know it as well as we do. The infomercials are failing. The leads we’re getting from newspapers and
TV suck. Men are shaving their heads. If we don’t do something to change the way
hair is sold, a lot of these guys are going to go out of business and I know
how much you don’t want that to happen.”
No, Keith didn’t want that. I looked over at Bosco, who was looking
intently at his telephone, waiting for the response. It felt like a full minute passed before we
heard anything.
“No, Bosco” Keith said softly. “I sure as hell don’t.”
“So, we’re good?” Bosco asked.
“Hold on!” Keith said sharply. “Let’s open this up and see what some other
people think. Michael? I want you, Allen, Les and Bosco ready to
talk about this in an hour. I’m going to
get something to eat here and I’ll call in then.”
That would mean that Keith would be sated
with a nice meal, some nice wine and perhaps he’d even be a bit groggy at a
little after 9PM Manila time while we’d all be growling for coffee in New
York. These were the prescribed ingredients
for any successful meeting at Slip-Not when Keith was out of town. But we were in no position to argue the
point.
The next installment will be posted on January 13.
If you'd like to read the entire book today, GO
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