You Can't Always Get What You Want

Perception and Persuasion

A friend spent some time working in the real estate department at Chick Fil-A. They’ve now got nearly 3,000 locations but the company was built on a foundation of modest beginnings and the founder’s force of will. My friend had a middle management job, not even close to being a big shot within the company, but the founder, Truett Cathy, still found time to speak with him.

Each conversation was the same, whether passing in the hall or in the elevator, and after some pleasantries and questions about how the site selection process was going, Mr. Cathy would place his hands on my friend’s shoulders, look him in the eye, and say: “remember son - no matter how much those sellers want - always offer half.”

I’ve watched another friend, a prominent and well-fed real estateur, employ the inverse tactic. On a vacation, we - my fat friend, his wonderful and caring wife, and I - stopped by a specialty grocery store for provisions. I pushed the cart chatting with his wife and he returned from another aisle, beaming, with a prepared charcuterie plate the size of a trash can lid.

“What the hell, Dan - are you trying to have a heart attack?” his wife asked.

He gave a nod of acquiescence and removed the charcuterie plate, returning with another salami platter, half the size, but still massive.

“Thank you, much better” she said, with less exasperation.

Dan gave me a wink and whispered: “anchor high”.

You can't always get what you want, but if you try sometimes

you just might find
you just might find

you get what you need.

My daughter went through a phase in second grade where she couldn’t be bothered with schoolwork or her elementary school’s authoritarian regime. Not to be kept down by the man (or woman, in the case of her teacher, Ms. Teasdale) my daughter decided it was much more fun to tell jokes than sit still during circle time.

The ongoing problem came to a head when she brought a note home from her teacher. I had a firm, frank, and one-way conversation with my daughter and explained she would stay in her room for the evening and write an apology letter.

When I checked on her later that night, she was asleep and angelic and on her desk was a handwritten note folded as only a second grader can fold:

Dear Ms. Teasdale,

I’m very very very very very very very very very sorry for cutting up in class.

Love, (my daughter)

What made it persuasive, though, was that also folded in the apology note was a $10 bill.