This column is being written on a sixth grade reading level so Marvelle Stump can understand it. Even so, America's worst printing salesman will call me and ask me to explain the column.
Every once in a while I do the unthinkable and think. I'm doing that now while I try to come up with a topic. This is pressure. Thinking up a topic is pressure.
Pressure. Wait that's it! I'll write about selling under pressure! I'll lay a little pressure on you and maybe you'll sell a little better. Let me tell you about pressure. I'm talkin' about intense pressure.
This is the week for the Goshen Country Fair. The carnie people are in town with the rickety rides they haul around on semis. The local volunteer fire department runs all of the food concessions, so God help us if we have a serious fire during fair week.
The fair features a livestock competition, as well as local rock and country and western entertainment each night. No pressure so far.
But, each night there are also vegetable, fruit, flower, baking and photography competitions. I entered my Asiatic Lilies, Black-eyed Susans and Coneflowers. I also entered the Hershey's chocolate cake baking contest ($25 first prize) and entered four digital photographs.
Standing in Judgment
The judging occurs about 8 p.m. and is absolute, totally pressurized agony. The judges move around in packs of four or five, hovering over the entries and holding them up to peer closely at each one. Then they take notes. It must be important for them to look like they know what they are doing. They have badges and clipboards and have perfected looking "official."
Well, folks, your old Mañana Man was awarded the blue ribbon for the Asiatic Lilies, second place for the Black-eyed Susans and fourth place for the Coneflowers.
Now I'm sweating the Hershey's cake and photography competitions. I couldn't enter my tomatoes, squash or cucumbers because they weren't ready to harvest. More pressure.
I cope with the pressure of waiting for the judging results by watching the crowd. I've got nothing else to do. I can't eat. I'm on this stupid diet.
I can't ride the rides. I'm 62, a wimp and I quit going on rides in 1964 after I swallowed a wad of bubble gum when my horse on the merry go-round suddenly reared and bolted for the exit. I don't even go on the rides at Disney World with my grandchildren and assorted other family members every year. I pay, but I don't ride.
Rides are too much pressure. Paying is no pressure.
So, I survive the judging suspense by watching the crowd.
There are swarms of teenagers. Packs of five or six girls always led by the lead point girl. The lead girl is usually the most flamboyant and sets the fashion pace for the others. The fashion nowadays includes how-did-they-get-them-on unbelievably tight jeans with skimpy tops that are too short and show their stomachs and lower backs. Often their navels are pierced with jewelry and their lower backs are tattooed.
These packs move in perfect swarms around the fair, giggling and using a highly perfected special walk (too complicated to explain). Must be a lot of pressure being a teenage girl. Got to fit in those jeans, perfect the walk, find a pack to swarm with and sneak out of the house before their parents see them wearing those "tops."
The girl packs are usually closely followed by swarms of leering teenage boys. Usually football player-types wearing shorts and their football jerseys, even in 90° heat. Lots of pressure for high school football players. I remember that pressure.
Then there are other packs of teenagers who I am told are called "Goths." They have dyed black hair, lots of facial piercings in some very unlikely places, very pale skin and black clothing. I think they believe in some stuff that I don't want to know about. Must be tough being a Goth. They have to get all those piercings, keep their hair dyed and sneak out of the house to avoid parents who may want to know about their secret Goth philosophy, which is probably way too complicated for me to understand and must involve a lot of study and meditation.
Lot of pressure being part of a group.
Then you've got your punks, your computer geeks, your hip-hop kids, the skateboarders and, finally, some really unusual adults at the fair.
There are always adult biker couples at the fair. They wear real old, tattered jeans, black Harley Davidson tee shirts, big leather belts with chains and some important keys attached, and black boots. Some even wear black leather jackets in the August heat. Biker couples have multiple tattoos and earrings. I'm told some bikers are lawyers, doctors and bankers. Maybe some are print salespeople. If I ever have brain surgery, I hope the doctor is not a biker. I could handle a lawyer or a banker, but not a brain surgeon biker.
There are also "matched set" couples. These middle-aged couples wear matching shorts, sneakers and tee shirts that say things like, "I'm his" and "She's mine." I imagine these folks invest heavily in commemorative plates and NASCAR memorabilia. Lot of pressure when you are trying to dress alike and make all the payments on your investments.
Fairs are a potpourri of American culture.
Shelling Out Cash
There are old men who stand and study the livestock, the John Deere tractor booth and the produce displays. I'm in that group. Occasionally, I see younger people approach the old men and speak briefly. The old men will reach in their pockets and hand the young people money. That happens to me when my grandchildren need more money for the rides and games. There's pressure to make sure you bring enough money to the fair.
These kinds of pressure are superficial. One of my printer pals called me the other afternoon and told me that he had arranged for Hideki Matsui to pay a hospital visit on a 13-year-old Japanese boy who is suffering from cancer.
Marvelle probably doesn't know that Hideki Matsui plays outfield for the New York Yankees. The boy worships the great Matsui and has had the nurses tape photographs of the player on the walls of his room. The boy watches every Yankee telecast to follow his hero.
It was the boy's fondest wish to meet the baseball player that he worships. The boy can't attend the games. He is too weak to leave the hospital. Hideki leads the Yankees with a batting average of .303—ahead of Alex Rodriquez, Gary Sheffield and the other stars.
Hideki arrived bearing gifts of autographed balls, a Yankee cap and one of his bats. He entered the room and bowed to the boy and to the boy's father. Then he bowed to my friend. He stayed with the boy, holding his hand and talking, for nearly an hour on a game day.
Just before Hideki left the room he leaned close to the boy and asked if he would watch tonight's game. The boy, unable to talk due to his horrible illness, nodded his head. Hideki said, "Watch my first at bat. It's for you."
My friend walked Hideki to the hospital entrance and asked him why he never celebrates or even smiles when he hits a home run. The ballplayer answered, "That would be disrespectful to the pitcher." There's a great lesson there for our in-your-face society.
My pal finished the story and I was a little weepy.
About midnight I was watching Baseball Tonight on ESPN. The Yankees had beaten the Toronto Blue Jays 11-4. Hideki Matsui had three hits, two home runs, a single and six runs batted in (RBIs). The game highlights were being shown and I watched Hideki's first at bat. He launched a deep shot over the fence in right center field. He hit the second home run even further. I guess that was a little bonus for the boy watching the game from his hospital room.
I got a little weepy again.
I read the paper the next morning and looked at the Yankees' box score to make certain I hadn't dreamed Hideki's performance under such enormous pressure. Yep, there it was.
That's performance under pressure.
Print salespeople have the pressure associated with making a living under highly competitive circumstances. Some of you sell for plants that are unpredictable when it involves things like on-time delivery and quality. Some of you even work with management and fellow workers who are disrespectful.
Sales Support Staff
Then you have the pressure associated with keeping all of the manufacturing and office people employed. Depending on the type of printing you represent, every $125,000 to $200,000 you sell supports one employee. Add $125,000 to your sales and you add one new job to the company. There's some pressure.
The next time you are sitting in traffic worried that you will be late for your appointment with a prospect or a customer, nervous about what you will say when you get there and fearful some competitor will under-price your quote, just think about Hideki.
At least you're not facing a pitcher throwing 95 mph fastballs and nasty sliders. You aren't hitting in front of 50,000 fans and millions watching on TV. There is just you, your pride in good performance, your professionalism and a little pressure.
I'm going outside now to see if any of my tomatoes are ripe, so put this magazine down and get out there and sell something!
—Harris DeWese
About the Author
Harris DeWese is the author of Now Get Out There and Sell Something, available through NAPL or PIA. He is chairman and CEO at Compass Capital Partners and is an author of the annual "Compass Report," the definitive source of information regarding printing industry M&A activity. DeWese has completed more than 100 printing company transactions and is viewed as the preeminent deal maker in the printing industry. He specializes in investment banking, mergers and acquisitions, sales, marketing, planning and management services to printing companies. He can be reached via e-mail at DeWeseH@ComCapLtd.com.