“Sell more, with fewer resources, faster. Oh, while you’re at it, bring me the broomstick of the Wicked Witch of the West.”
How’s that for a quartet of challenges? Yet, most of us have achieved at least three of them--somehow.
Before the banking meltdown, the bad economy, credit crunches, and tech bubbles, we responded. We absorbed higher sales quotas, targeted prospects better, made our lead generation more efficient, and shortened sales cycles.
But time and again, we learn that our sales efforts have a negative impact on customer relationships. Our prospective customers often don’t trust salespeople, don’t like them, and don’t want to communicate with them. Are we pushing too hard? [1] Should we cool our jets? Maybe the time has come for a Slow Sales movement.
Decades of Fast Sales dictums have yielded tactics that clash with long-term strategic goals:
“Close the Sale” versus “Build a Relationship”
“Ramp up sales quickly!” versus “Gain customer loyalty”
“Be the top regional revenue producer” (and hoard tacit knowledge) versus “share knowledge so the entire sales organization can benefit”
“Make the quarterly revenue goal” versus “maximize the total value of the customer”
The Slow ideal has found a growing audience willing to question whether our obsession with collapsing timeframes serves our longer-term interests. The Slow Food Movement [2] began as a counter-force to government and commercial entities that promoted convenience food and economies of scale without regard for sound nutritional and environmental practices. Educators have recognized a parallel danger. Peggy Orenstein wrote in The New York Times (Kindergarten Cram, May 3, 2009) “maybe the current economic retrenchment will trigger a new perspective on early education . . . Call it Slow Schools. After all, part of what got us into this mess was valuing achievement, speed and results over ethics, thoughtfulness and responsibility.” In education, it takes a brave person to question outcomes that are sacrosanct to many. But Ms. Orenstein reframed the question: it’s not about how can a child’s development be sped up, it’s “why are we so hellbent on doing so?”
Similarly, in sales, we must change the overarching questions we’re asking. The problem is, “how do we sell more, better, faster?” sounds better at the Achiever’s Club golf outing than another question I recently heard, “what steps do we need to take with each prospect and when should we take them based on the natural progression of our prospect’s purchase process?” That long-winded question sounds way too kind, and many sales executives would feel silly asking it. But by asking and answering that question we’re possibly more likely to achieve strategic sales success than by relentlessly pursuing tactics to satisfy the first one. Fast Sales rarely comes without high pressure and customer pain—two conditions that damage, rather than improve, financial results.
The promoters of the Slow Food movement exposed exploitation after recognizing a long-simmering win-lose relationship between top producers and end consumers. Large food manufacturers such as Monsanto, ConAgra, and Archer Daniels Midland could meet their financial objectives while at the consumer end of the value chain, people became overweight and undernourished. But Slow Food and Slow Sales are an imperfect comparison. The Slow Food movement encompasses ideals I haven’t seen on the white board for any sales planning meeting I’ve attended: equitable distribution of products and resources, and responsible stewardship of the planet.
Not that we’re unconcerned and mercenary, but in sales, one simple financial reality explains our preoccupation with speed: Net Present Value. Assuming the cost of capital is constant, the present value of a dollar in revenue today is worth more than in any future period. That cold fact drives strategic decisions. Sometimes customers benefit—sometimes they don’t. So through the Net Present Value lens, the juxtaposition of “slow” and “sales” might mean a situation to avoid rather than an inspirational movement.
But the same way fast food brings us Type II diabetes, and high-achieving preschoolers bring us win-at-any-cost adults, tactics to secure short-term revenue bring unwanted side effects that could take more than one generation to fix. Some progressive companies understand this, and not surprisingly, have embedded Slow Sales ideals into their brand. For example, “At Oboz [3] we build shoes for outdoor use—shoes with meaningful innovation, solid performance and recognizable quality. We are also stewards of our rich natural heritage and believe that a business should contribute to the greater common good.”
If that lofty goal conjures up images of American consumers (who want affordable quality footwear, available in local retail outlets) holding hands in the woods with citizens of producing countries (who want jobs, unpolluted air, and clean lakes), it’s probably a mirage. Would Oboz voluntarily curtail sales growth to avoid sourcing materials from non-compliant vendors (a common dilemma in eco-manufacturing)? There are no easy answers, and tradeoffs must be made. But kudos to Oboz! At least I sense this issue has a spot on the white board in the company board room.
Like other Slow movements, Slow Sales requires taking some unpopular stances, and asking uncomfortable questions that put tried-and-true in the cross hairs of change. For some companies, that means looking at selling in a fundamentally different way by regarding a purchase transaction as a point on a timeline, rather than the end-game of a sales process.
Slow Sales won’t work for every company. It requires a long-term planning horizon, and companies that don’t have the resources to go the distance will trade one set of risks for another. But as with food and education, Slow might provide the best way to deliver value that can sustain both producer and consumer now, and in the future.