One of the most valuable tips I’ve come across in a while.

I’m more comfortable asking someone what they thought of my pitch, rather than whether they’re eager to buy.

Skipping right to the sale is an effective shortcut to getting the most important feedback of all — even when it’s not comfortable.

It can be remarkably difficult to determine what you want out of a moment, an experience, or even an actual menu.

But if you don’t know what you want, it’ll be a lot harder to get it. Ordering one of everything isn’t an efficient or effective way to choose your entree.

Even a little intentionality can go a long way: simply write down a prediction or desire, then review and revise it as you go.

Lots of little corrections are the best way to keep on course, and they’ll get smaller and smoother with experience and confidence.

***

Time capsule: this is my 200th post in a row. I still enjoy the creative challenge of looking for something to write about each day, as well as the sense of accomplishment that comes from pressing the publish button in spite of my inner perfectionist.

As it has been since the beginning, my intention with this blog is to build my comfort with choosing reliability even over perfection. If you’re in it for the long haul, imperfection is a given — so it’s far better to be human every day than to choose irrelevance by waiting for inhuman perfection.

Waiting for more information.

Thinking bigger rather than smaller.

Perfecting the vision rather than taking action on a specific goal.

Another book, a bigger dream, a more perfect vision isn’t likely to make anything better.

Taking the smallest viable step in the right direction just might.

Deciding to do something is only the first step.

Verbalizing the decision doesn’t make the vision come true.

Deciding to build a house really means deciding to lay a lot of bricks.

Whatever the usual is for you, chop it in half.

How will you approach the newly-shortened meeting? How will you get what you want out of it?

And how will the others in the meeting respond?

If it matters, the least you can do is show up.

And if you’re going to show up, you might as well bring the energy. If you’re the convener, your audience will appreciate it. If you’re in the audience, the convener will really appreciate it. (Your peers probably will, too.)

People are hungry and thirsty for positive leadership. Go first, put on a show, and give kudos. Inspire the others to do the same.

Unfortunately, I had reason the other day to visit a small law firm’s website.

They’re trying so hard to sound personal and personable, yet it’s so clear the lawyers couldn’t resist the temptation to go over their marketing copy.

It’s not the elastic language I mind: it’s no secret that your mileage may vary in law, finance, or medicine. What rankles is the marketing pitch that sounds like it was written by robots trying to assure humanity of their good intentions. Service isn’t a verb except on the stud farm.

It’s hard to write your own marketing copy because you want to tell your own story, but the real trick is to fit into your customer’s story.

That takes empathy, creativity, and practice. But, when you really want to sound human, try this:

• File your first draft: it’s your story as told by and for you. Then re-write it from the perspective of the person you’re trying to serve.
• Use nouns that sound human. Clients are people too, my friends.
• When in doubt, use verbs that are synonyms for help or serve. (And they’d better not be clumsily repurposed nouns.)

Finally, before you publish, read your copy aloud. You’ll do yourself — and the people it’s for — a service.

One of my favorite exercises is to occasionally write out my thoughts and intentions, then try to work out exactly what I mean by the inevitable word salad.

Of course I’d like to stand out, engage, and impact (or dare I say “leverage?”). But so does everyone else, and those words don’t mean much on their own — they’re just the everyday corporate cruft that dulls thinking.

Before you engage and leverage that space for maximum impact in your final marketing copy, it’s worth knowing exactly what you mean in plain language. Otherwise, how will you and the people you’re seeking to serve know that you’re both looking for the same kind of “impact?”

When I was in fifth grade, my favorite library book to borrow was about the Screaming Eagles of the 101st Airborne Division.

Long before I came across Band of Brothers, words like OVERLORD and MARKET GARDEN and the Bulge were part of my vocabulary.

At age 10, the soldiers who landed behind German lines by glider and parachute seemed impossibly mature, and General Eisenhower — “Ike” — seemed larger than life.

Today, I think about how all of those soldiers were younger than me, and I marvel at how those kids could throw their unprotected bodies out of airplanes and into uncertain but certainly terrifying fate. I think of the German kids who did their best to kill the English-speaking ones who came from the air and the sea. And I think of Eisenhower ordering all those ships and planes and kids into action.

Three-quarters of a century later, you can’t say we’ve forgotten. But I fear we’ve made all those kids into a myth — which might be worse than not remembering at all.

When you go to the shoe store, you’ve already decided to spend some money. You know you’ll have a lot of options, some familiar and some not. But you’ve probably also got a price point in mind.

You walk in, the clerk asks if she can help you, and you say yes, you’re looking for some shoes. The clerk smiles, tells you she has just the thing, returns, and opens the box.

“This is a fantastic pair of shoes for you,” she says. “They’re the best in the store.”

You like the shoes — and then you inevitably check the price. It’s five times what you were prepared to pay. Now you’re in a pickle: will you spend the money to relieve the tension of saying no, or will you say no to relieve the tension of spending much more than you planned?

It’s tricky enough at the shoe store. You didn’t know you wanted shoes like that. What if the salesperson is disappointed? What if you’re disappointed with a pair that’s within your budget?

It’s much more difficult when the stakes and the sale and the relationships are less clear than they are in a shoe store. What happens, for example, when the boss offers you an undreamed-of opportunity that will nevertheless cost more time, money, or energy than you’d budgeted? In that case, you know you’ll have to face the salesperson again tomorrow — and she’ll still be your boss.

Most of the tension in these situations comes from personal dynamics, and many of those dynamics are driven by uncertainty. Faced with a choice you didn’t expect, you’re not sure how to respond, and your social brain is doing a million calculations a minute to figure out what the right thing is.

The truth is, you don’t have to take what’s on offer. And the best way to reduce the tension is to depersonalize and clarify the situation: “Thanks for the offer. I’m honored, but I ran the numbers, and it doesn’t fit my budget right now.” At that point, the tension is reversed: the salesperson can either figure out how to make the sale fit your budget, find another option to sell, or walk away.