chapter3.1

I often went fishing up in Maine during the summer.

Personally I am very fond of strawberries and cream, but I have found that for some strange reason, fish prefer worms.

So when I went fishing, I didn't think about what I wanted.

I thought about what they wanted.

I didn't bait the hook with strawberries and cream.

Rather, I dangled a worm or a grasshopper in front of the fish and said: "Wouldn't you like to have that?"

Why not use the same common sense when fishing for people?

That is what Lloyd George, Great Britain's Prime Minister during World War I, did.

When someone asked him how he managed to stay in power after the other wartime leaders—

Wilson, Orlando and Clemenceau—had been forgotten, he replied that if his staying on top might be attributed to any one thing, it would be to his having learned that it was necessary to bait the hook to suit the fish.

Why talk about what we want? That is childish. Absurd.

Of course, you are interested in what you want.

You are eternally interested in it. But no one else is.

The rest of us are just like you: we are interested in what we want.

So the only way to influence other people is to talk about what they want and show them how to get it.

Remember that tomorrow when you are trying to get somebody to do something.

If, for example, you don't want your children to smoke, don't preach at them, and don't talk about what you want; but show them that cigarettes may keep them from making the basketball team or winning the hundred-yard dash.

This is a good thing to remember regardless of whether you are dealing with children or calves or chimpanzees.

For example: one day Ralph Waldo Emerson and his son tried to get a calf into the barn.

But they made the common mistake of thinking only of what they wanted: Emerson pushed and his son pulled.

But the calf was doing just what they were doing; he was thinking only of what he wanted; so he stiffened his legs and stubbornly refused to leave the pasture.

The Irish housemaid saw their predicament.

She couldn't write essays and books; but, on this occasion at least, she had more horse sense, or calf sense, than Emerson had.

She thought of what the calf wanted; so she put her maternal finger in the calf's mouth and let the calf suck her finger as she gently led him into the barn.

Every act you have ever performed since the day you were born was performed because you wanted something.

How about the time you gave a large contribution to the Red Cross?

Yes, that is no exception to the rule.

You gave the Red Cross the donation because you wanted to lend a helping hand; you wanted to do a beautiful, unselfish, divine act.

"In as much as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me."

If you hadn't wanted that feeling more than you wanted your money, you would not have made the contribution.

Of course, you might have made the contribution because you were ashamed to refuse or because a customer asked you to do it.

But one thing is certain. You made the contribution because you wanted something.

Harry A, Overstreet in his illuminating book Influencing Human Behavior said："Action springs out of what we fundamentally desire …

and the best piece of advice which can be given to would-be persuaders, whether in business, in the home, in the school, in politics, is: First, arouse in the other person an eager want.

He who can do this has the whole world with him.

He who cannot walks a lonely way."

Andrew Carnegie, the poverty-stricken Scotch lad who started to work at two cents an hour and finally gave away $365 million, learned early in life that the only way to influence people is to talk in terms of what the other person wants.

He attended school only four years; yet he learned how to handle people.

To illustrate: His sister-in-law was worried sick over her two boys.

They were at Yale, and they were so busy with their own affairs that they neglected to write home and paid no attention whatever to their mother's frantic letters.

Then Carnegie offered to wager a hundred dollars that he could get an answer by return mail, without even asking for it.

Someone called his bet; so he wrote his nephews a chatty letter, mentioning casually in a post-script that he was sending each one a five-dollar bill.

He neglected, however, to enclose the money.

Back came replies by return mail thanking "Dear Uncle Andrew" for his kind note and you can finish the sentence yourself.

Another example of persuading comes from Stan Novak of Cleveland, Ohio, a participant in our course.

Stan came home from work one evening to find his youngest son, Tim, kicking and screaming on the living room floor.

He was to start kindergarten the next day and was protesting that he would not go.

Stan's normal reaction would have been to banish the child to his room and tell him he'd just better make up his mind to go.

He had no choice.

But tonight, recognizing that this would not really help Tim start kindergarten in the best frame of mind, Stan sat down and thought, "If I were Tim, why would I be excited about going to kindergarten?"

He and his wife made a list of all the fun things Tim would do such as finger painting, singing songs, making new friends.

Then they put them into action.

"We all started finger-painting on the kitchen table——my wife, Lil, my other son Bob, and myself, all having fun.

Soon Tim was peeping around the corner.

Next he was begging to participate.

'Oh, no! You have to go to kindergarten first to learn how to finger-paint.'

With all the enthusiasm I could muster I went through the list talking in terms he could understand——telling him all the fun he would have in kindergarten.

The next morning, I thought I was the first one up.

I went downstairs and found Tim sitting sound asleep in the living room chair.

'What are you doing here?' I asked. 'I'm waiting to go to kindergarten. I don't want to be late.'

The enthusiasm of our entire family had aroused in Tim an eager want that no amount of discussion or threat could have possibly accomplished."

Tomorrow you may want to persuade somebody to do something.

Before you speak, pause and ask yourself: "How can I make this person want to do it?"

That question will stop us from rushing into a situation heedlessly, with futile chatter about our desires.