I wrote a letter of sympathy today to a long time friend who lost his father. Whenever I have something serious to convey, I say it in a letter. And, not just any old letter. I use a fountain pen with black-blue ink and very good stationary.

Someone recently told me that writing letters is a lost art. I hope not, because a letter, for centuries, is how a person best communicates their most personal thoughts, I think.

I like writing letters. Being the hopeless romantic that I am, I always feel that writing letters is the most optimistic of acts. When you sit down to write a letter, you have to be optimistic that someone will open it up and read it.

A letter never intrudes. A phone call nearly always intrudes. An e-mail intrudes most of the time. But, a letter can be opened up and read whenever a person wants–and, can be kept to be read over and over again.

There you have it–from a hopelessly romantic optimist, who doesn’t like to intrude!

Where is that pen and paper, anyway?

A few kind words go a long way, I have found.

I attended a late afternoon board of directors meeting, yesterday, for a non-profit organization that I have been involved with for many years. As is the organization’s custom, there is a small reception (wine and hors d’oeuvres) at the conclusion of the meeting, so that the board members can socialize and get to know one another better before they scurry on home. Lovely idea.

During the reception, I noticed that there was one member of the board, a rather elderly gentleman who has been on the board for many, many years, standing by himself, precariously balancing his glass of wine and plate of hors d’oeuvres. This particular person probably is in his late-seventies, and has been retired as an executive from a rather prominent Chicago company (which was a very long-time client of my father’s) for over a decade, I would guess.

And, he was standing alone. No one was stopping to talk with him. They simply looked right past him, as they strolled by.

This is not an uncommon occurrence in Chicago’s business cocktail reception scene, by the way. It seems that people only want to talk with you if you are perceived as being prominent, or powerful, or most important, if YOU can do something for THEM. Because, that is what they are most interested in–themselves! And, clearly this man has been retired for many years, and can’t do anything for anybody anymore–or, at least that is how he is perceived.

So, I went up and talked with him. (I have known him for many years). We made “small talk”  for about fifteen or twenty minutes about the company that he once worked for–and, I told him stories about my father’s involvement with this company, and the people that he knew.

He seemed to be having a good time. After we had been talking for awhile, I excused myself to get another hors d’oeuvre. He looked me in the eyes and thanked me profusely for the conversation. He left the reception, shortly thereafter.

I hope that I made him feel needed and appreciated. I know that I felt good about myself.

A few kind words go a long way, I think.

Chicago really plays in the summer. I hadn’t really noticed that as a young man working downtown, but have come to appreciate it in my later years. Maybe it is our long, cold winters, with our gray leadened skies and our gritty snow, that forces Chicagoans of all stripes to come outdoors and play during this wonderful time of the year.

What fun it is to see people flooding into our many parks near our wonderful lakefront. Office workers stream out of their antiseptic air conditioned towers in the Loop at noon to enjoy the warmth and sun, as they scurry to lunch, or simply sit outside and enjoy a smoothie or iced frappacino. The women look beautiful, as they stroll along in their summer dresses, their hair blowing in the wind and glistening in the sunlight. Maybe they are going to argue a case in court, attend a corporate board meeting, or are hurrying to a “power lunch”–but, you’d never know it from the smiles on their faces. The men, on the other hand, many in serious suits, toting serious briefcases, have serious looks, as they tug at their collars and sweat profusely, lumbering to their presumably serious appointments.

Tourists abound, with their folded maps and fingers pointing to the many architectural wonders and magnificent public art that populates our downtown, everywhere. Since I work near the Sears Tower, with its Sky deck being a de rigure stop for tourists, both foreign and domestic, I encounter these wanderers from many lands on every street corner, speaking languages that we seldom hear in Chicago at other times of the year.

Summer in Chicago. Carpe’ diem! Enjoy it while you can!

“And what is so rare as a day in June. Then, if ever come perfect days. Then Heaven tries Earth if it be in tune, And over it softly her warm ear lays”.

–James Russell Lowell

Overheard today in the men’s locker room at the health club:

“Hey, Bill, I lost 21 pounds, since I saw you last”.

The retort:

“If you’d take off your money belt, you’d lose 21 more”.

Touche’!

Father’s Day. Time to reflect on my own performance as a father, and on the father that I had.

I tried to be the best father that I could to my three children. I am sure that most fathers say that–but, in my case, at least, I truly mean it. I hope that my children understand that, and forgive me of any short-comings, as they were growing up. Since all three are bright, loving, kind, gentle and very successful young adults out in the working world, I suppose that I didn’t do a bad job. But, even though I tried my best, I am certain that I could have done better. Maybe, that is a common feeling among most fathers, who truly love their children. I am very proud of them. I know that they know that, because I have told them that repeatedly on numerous occasions. I know that I don’t match up to my father, however, and all that he did for me.

I had the best father a guy could have. Full of Irish wit and humor (my mother once confided to me that she married him because he was so humorous), dad was a very, very successful businessman, and the consummate salesman. He had great respect among his colleagues and customers, both nationally and in Chicago’s business community. He was very devoted to my mother, and tenderly took great care of her during the last years of her life. (My mother died of cancer in 1987. My father died of his fourth heart attack on Valentine’s Day, 1994).

I learned much about business from my father. He taught me all about client service, and putting the customer’s interests before your own. He was so successful in the fine printing paper industry that his clients wouldn’t let him retire. He had served them through “thick and thin” for more than fifty-three years. They didn’t want to deal with anyone else….a problem for both my father and the company that employed him. God, what salesman can say today that he is so valued by his clients that they don’t want anyone else to handle their accounts? Remarkable!

I remember coming home from college after winter semester exams and devouring book after book in the big easy chair in our living room. I would literally read all night, with a fire going in the fireplace, and my father snoring on the couch. I would be wrapped up in a blanket to ward off the winter chill, and consume cup after cup of strong Irish tea, as I became lost in novels such as The Caine Mutiny, or in one of the gloriously leather bound and gold embossed very limited edition R.R. Donnelley “Christmas Books” that The Lakeside Press sent to their valued clients and friends. (My father was on their list for these books for many, many years. I remember blowing through Custer’s My Life on the Plains in about four hours. The Donnelley books were all stories about the Old West). At about 1:30 am or so, I would kiss my father’s bald forehead and say, “Time to brush your teeth and go to bed, Dad.” He would trundle up the stairs to bed, where my mother and sister had been asleep for hours. I would continue reading and stoking the fire, until the first sliver of dawn appeared in the dark winter sky.

In the few moments before my father died, I took the Rosary that I had been carrying and wrapped the beads around his hand, pressing the Crucifix at the end of the Rosary into the palm of his cold hand. I bent down, and kissed him, and looked into his eyes for the last time, whispering, “Thanks for everything, Dad. You did a great job. It’s up to me, now.”

That same Rosary now hangs on my bed post. In a few moments, I shall turn off the computer, turn out the lights, and go to bed. As I do every night, I shall take the Rosary and wrap the beads around my hand, pressing the Crucifix into my palm. I shall drift off to sleep, saying my nightly prayers for my family and friends. But, tonight I shall whisper softly once again, “Thanks for everything, Dad. You did a great job. It’s up to me, now.”

Happy Father’s Day!

I sat next to a politician at a dinner recently. While we had a fascinating conversation about many things, one part of the discussion was particularly interesting. Our conversation veered off into the ethereal realm of the importance of living your life as you see fit–doing what you think should be done, not what others think you should do.

The analogy that he used to illustrate this point was the three act play. He said that, in his opinion, life was like a three act play. And, wouldn’t it be terrible to come to the end of the third act, and realize that you hadn’t lived life the way that you wanted to. At the end of Act III, the “Author” walks on stage and says, “That’s all there is. It’s over. It’s finished. Go home.”  You can’t go back to Act I. This wasn’t a rehearsal. There are no rehearsals. You can’t go forward, because there is no forth act. It’s just over–and, you didn’t do what you wanted to do, or what you thought should be done.

Pretty profound for a politician, I thought.

God played this neat little trick on us when He made us. He gave us this cool thing called “Free Will”. We choose how we want to live our life–and, then death seals the compact forever.

There are three clients in every professional service firm engagement:

• The first client is the “client client”–the person or entity for whom the service is being performed.
• The second client is the “firm or company” that is providing the service. It is important to note that the interests of the “client client” and the “firm or company” that is providing the service may not be the same. The “client client” wants the best possible service at the lowest possible cost. The “firm or company” providing the service wants to provide a level of service that will please the client, but also will result in the maximum amount of profit to the firm.
• The third client is “you”–the actual person providing the service. You are your own client, and often are charged with the extremely difficult task of balancing the needs of the “client client” with the best interests of the firm.

Until you understand this–that you are your own client, that you need to exercise your professional judgment on what is best for the client paying the bills and for the firm that employs you–you will never be a true consultant, but will just be working for a consulting firm.

A typical professional service firm operates under the standard “pyramid” type of operating structure:

• At the bottom of the pyramid are the “grinders”–those accountants, consultants, lawyers,whatever, who are employed by the firm to “grind” out the work.
• In the middle of the pyramid are the “minders”–those mid-level managers who are employed by the firm to “mind” the “grinders”, ensuring (hopefully) that the work is getting done on time and for budget.
• At the top of the pyramid, theoretically, are the “finders”–those rarefied individuals who “find” the work for the “minders” and “grinders” to do.

But the most important people in a professional services firm, in my opinion, are not within the pyramid, but surround it. They are the “binders”–those highly unique and all too rare individuals who can federate (and that is the correct word) all of the disparate interests and egos in a professional services firm, and move them along a predetermined path toward a clearly stated goal.

I have found all too few “binders” in my professional services career. It is an extremely difficult task, which most do very poorly, or just can’t do at all, in my opinion.

Maybe, it’s time for a different model on how to operate a professional services firm. I’m not certain that this one works anymore.

More than forty-two years in the professional services industry has taught me that professional services are “bought”, not “sold”. There is a prevailing myth (and, many times it is the accepted practice) that you go out into the so-called marketplace and “sell” your services. Nothing could be further from the truth. It doesn’t work. You can “sell” ice. You can “sell” fish. You can “sell” a whole host of commodities. But, you can’t “sell” a prospective client on the competence of the service provider’s mind. And, that’s all a professional service industry has–the competence of the collective minds that it employs.

A prospective client must have confidence in the competence of the people providing the service. They must have confidence that the work will be performed with the highest quality, and at the agreed upon price. They must have confidence in the integrity of the service provider.

And, how do they gain that confidence? Typically, I have found, it is with someone with whom they already have a prior relationship–someone who already has their confidence–someone who they know will stand behind the work, and who now represents the service provider to the prospective client.

For, you see, people “buy” from people whom they know and trust, particularly when it comes to an intangible service like the competence of people’s minds. What, after all, is a “firm” or “company”? People might assume that a firm or company will provide good service at a reasonable price. But still, a firm or company is a faceless entity. A person who is already known to the prospective client as trustworthy and competent, however, puts a “face” on the service provider, and gives the prospective client a comfort that the service will be provided as stated, and at the agreed upon price.

That’s why I say professional services are “bought”, rather than “sold”. People buy from people whom they know and trust–not from firms or companies. That’s why you really can’t “sell” a professional service. I’ve watched people try to do it–and, inevitably, they fail. It just doesn’t work.

I talked about some of these issues at the Sales Association Midwest Fall Conference in Chicago in November, 2013. A link to an outline of my presentation is as follows:

http://pauldillon.com/wp-content/uploads/Dillon-Relationships-WhyProfessionalServicesAreBoughtRatherThanSold.pdf

I also covered these issues in an interview on the Price of Business on Business Talk 1110 AM KTEK (on Bloomberg’s home in Houston). The link to that interview is as follows:

Paul A. Dillon-The Importance of Relationship in your Sales Process

I can’t imagine life without a sense of humor. One of the ways that I judge a company is if there is any sound of laughter, when I am in their offices. Many things in business are serious. Business is about making a profit, after all–a task which can be very, very arduous in this day and age. But, humor keeps the hunt for profit in proper perspective, and facilitates the many difficult duties that are required to be performed throughout the work day. I have had many recommendations written on my behalf over the years. But, the one sentence that sticks in my memory from all of these recommendations was the one that said, “Paul possesses a sense of humor that keeps all in balance.”  And, that’s what humor does. It keeps work—and life–in balance. “Don’t take either yourself, or the world, too seriously”, my mother said to me with an Irish twinkle in her eye shortly before she died. “If you’re not in a little ‘mischief’, you’re not having any fun”, she said., all the while cautioning me not to get into any real trouble.

Those who know me would say that I learned her lesson well. Playfulness is good.

It was reported that, after Charles Darwin completed his exhaustive Origin of the Species, he concluded that there was only one quality that separated man from the lower classes of animals. “Only man has the ability to laugh”, he said.

What a shame not to use that quality–that sense of humor, that wonderful laughter– with great gusto, and with great frequency, in our daily lives. We’d all be more “balanced”, if we did.