Cat Guts and Blood

'I am up to my elbows in cat guts and blood, what the hell do you want?!?!' The man's voice crackles through the phone, dripping with irritation. My heart races, and I grip the receiver tighter, knowing this cold call is about to go off the rails before it even begins.

I'm a year into my misadventure as a stockbroker.

I wince, feeling an imaginary pain at his reaction. My muscles tense, bracing for the verbal battle that's sure to follow. A year into my stint as a cold-calling stockbroker, I should be used to this, but each hostile response still hits like a punch to the gut.

My eyes drift to the window, seeking solace in the distant, snow-capped peak of Mt. Hood. As I focus on it, the mountain seems to draw closer, its serene presence a stark contrast to the chaos around me. The cacophony of other brokers yelling into their phones fades away as I take a deep breath, centering myself for what comes next.

I mentally gear up for verbal combat, my shoulders tensing as I grip the phone even tighter. But in a moment of clarity, I choose a different path. Instead of matching his aggression with my own, I opt for empathy.

'I understand these calls are annoying, doctor..,' I begin, my voice calm and measured. 'And I certainly wouldn't want to take you away from an important surgery, but...' Before I can finish, I hear a heavy sigh on the other end of the line. The tension in the air shifts, ever so slightly.

Suddenly, the doctor's frustration pours out. He tells me about the constant calls from Boca Raton, Florida, pushing stocks of companies he's never heard of. 'It drives me nuts!' he exclaims. I listen, really listen, as he shares the challenges of being a rural veterinarian, constantly interrupted by sales calls. He speaks of his desire to invest but his inability to trust strangers or unfamiliar companies.

I resist the urge to jump in, to sell. Instead, I let him speak, offering only occasional acknowledgments. 'Yeah, I can understand that,' I say softly, encouraging him to continue.

As time passes, I sense a change. His words become softer, more gentle. The initial anger dissipates, replaced by a cautious openness. And then, like music to my ears, he says it: 'You seem like a reasonable person. What would you do for someone like me?'

My heart leaps. This is it - my 'buy signal'. The moment I've been waiting for, earned not through aggressive selling, but through genuine listening and empathy."

I take a deep breath, ready to guide him through this transformation. 'Dr., what sets us apart is our approach,' I begin, my voice steady and confident. 'We only deal in companies you've heard of - household names you can trust. Our goal isn't just to make a quick sale, but to build a relationship over time, working to make our clients money consistently.'

I explain our process, our commitment to transparency, and our long-term vision for client success. As I speak, I can almost feel the doctor nodding on the other end of the line. When I finish, there's a long silence. My heart pounds in my chest as I wait.

Then, like music to my ears, I hear the words every salesperson dreams of: 'Well, how do I open an account with you, Tony?'

I resist the urge to jump out of my seat and shout. Instead, I smile, feeling the sweet taste of success. In my mind, I hear the satisfying 'cha-ching' of a deal well done. What started as a hostile interaction has transformed into the beginning of a promising business relationship.

Looking back, that call was a turning point for me. What started with 'I'm up to my elbows in cat guts and blood' ended with a new client and a profound lesson. More empathy and more listening have guided my communication ever since, and it has made all the difference in the world.

In sales, as in life, it's not about pushing your agenda. It's about truly hearing people, understanding their needs, and responding with genuine solutions. That day, I learned that the most powerful tool in my arsenal wasn't my pitch or my product knowledge – it was my ability to listen and empathize.