Robert Collier - The Robert Collier Letter Book

So humor him. Tell him frankly: "Don’t decide now. Plenty of time for that later. Just fill in your height, your weight and your collar size on the enclosed card, and we’ll send you a Keep dry Coat in your exact size. Try it out. Wear it for a week. Take it down town and compare it with anything you can find in your local stores. Then decide."

Don’t you see how much easier that is? Nothing to worry about, no decision to make—just take a look at the coat when it comes. If it fits nicely and you like it, wear it down town and compare it for value with coats in the stores there. After all, there is nothing final about it. If you change your mind, you can easily send it back.

But when the coat comes, what happens! You may be away, or the weather is warm, so you do not wear it. And it lies around the house for a week or two. Then along comes a bill. My, you will have to get at that coat and try it! You get it out. You are reasonably well pleased. You wear it a few times and get some spots on it. Seems a shame to send it back then, and anyhow, many of those who bought it said they could not equal it at twice the price. Of course, you have not had the time or energy to go in and compare prices yourself. Oh, well, it’s a pretty good bargain, and too darned much trouble to send back now whether it is or not. Box it came in is probably thrown away. And so another sale is made. Not just the best kind of sale, of course, but probably the average sale.

Certain it is that the same principle holds true of almost any kind of selling. A friend of ours, for instance, sells yachts, some of them priced at over a million dollars. Do you suppose he goes or writes to J. P. Morgan and says: "See here, J. P., that old yacht of yours is getting a little down at heel. The mud guards are scratched and the upholstery is getting moth-eaten, and as for the engine—it’s so wheezy that when you start from the float, every old tub around ups anchor and poles away, for fear you will bust and spread yourself over the landscape before you reach Hoboken. Honest, J. P., the original Model T Ford couldn't rattle worse than that contraption you call a yacht. Better let me enter your order for a real boat, old scout. Now how about it?"

This man has been instrumental in selling more than $25,000,000 worth of yachts, but I do not think any of them were sold in just that way. No, indeed. When a man gets on his prospect list, nothing crude like that ever happens to him. He gets some interesting little circulars showing pictures of the latest in yachts, with just an adroit suggestion of how fine it would be to forget the office for a few weeks or months, forget the work-a-day world, and go cruising through the Caribbean, or around the South Sea Islands, or wherever life and adventure beckon.

Then after a few of these, the first time a new and especially attractive boat is ready for its trial cruise, Mr. Prospect receives a special delivery letter or telegram somewhat along these lines:

"New Asterbilt yacht ready for trial spin next Thursday, the 10th. Mr. Asterbilt is making up special party for a few pleasant hours on Sound and begs that you and Mrs. Prospect will honor him. Boat leaves Yacht Club dock at ten sharp. R. S. V. R"

Does Mr. Prospect answer? And especially Mrs. Prospect! I give you three guesses. And when they are safely aboard, along with a number of other "big business men and their wives—mostly prospects like themselves—are things made comfortable for them? I'll say they are! It is perfect luxury afloat.

Nothing so gross as a salesman ever approaches them on a trip like that. True, they are shown over the boat by officials of the company. And every point of interest is called to their attention, even as with the automobile salesman. They go through the salon, the cabins, even down to the engine room so spick and span it would not seem out of place as an adjunct to a drawing room. They take the wheel a while, get the feel of the boat, begin thinking of all the things they could do if they had one like it.

And just about then, along comes one of these officials with a picture of the new boat they are building for Mr. Van Spiffiingen—a very wonderful boat, but some people prefer a bit more speed, or more beam, or whatnot, and Mr. Prospect has a chance to air his preference. And isn't that peculiar, but they have a boat in the building with those very features. Here are the plans. And before he knows it, Mr. Prospect has signed on the dotted line and is now Mr. Customer, soon to take a party out on a trial spin on his boat. Wherein is the difference? The yacht sale runs into bigger figures and employs a bit more finesse—that's all. In its essence, it is the circus barker and his helpers all over again. And though the method may vary, the psychology back of it is necessary in every sale that is made.

Particularly is this true of selling by mail. Why should you buy a coat from John Blair, whom you have never seen, when there is a perfectly good store a couple of blocks away, where you can look over the stock of coats, try on as many as you like, and if you fail to find one that fits you exactly, you can have one altered until it does. Why should you take the trouble and risk of sending for a coat by mail when it is so much easier to get one at home? For two reasons only: first, because you are convinced that you save money by so doing. Second, and just as important, because John Blair makes it even easier for you to get his coat than to go to the neighborhood store. And the same principles apply to every sale made by mail. Just listen to these few typical examples of successful ways of "supplying that impulse."

Don't decide about buying now. You can do that later. Simply return the special FREE TRIAL Card, and by return mail will come the Blank machine, all charges prepaid. Then, after 6 days' examination—after you have had plenty of chance to try it and prove it—if it is not all we say and more, send it back at our expense. We'll pay the charges both ways. Could we give you any stronger evidence of our faith in the Blank machine?

Let me just prove what it will mean to you. This will not entail the slightest obligation on your part. Fill out the card and mail it—that's all. We'll do the rest.

Figure it out for yourself—harness, feed, labor, veterinary bills—all the items your horse and wagon delivery cost you. Quite a sum, eh!

Now if you'll pick up that pencil you were figuring with a moment ago, and fill out the attached card, we'll tell you all about Ford motor trucks—how they are increasing efficiency and decreasing costs for people in your line of business, folks you know personally.

Just send the enclosed card today. It doesn’t obligate you in the least. We are only too glad to thoroughly demonstrate. No harm done if you don’t keep it.

Just fill out the enclosed slip and mail it, and the samples will be on the way in time to start this department with next Saturday’s sale. Remember, you risk nothing all you have to think about is your profit.

This puts you under not the slightest obligation. It simply gives us the chance to submit figures that you can check against the prices you have been paying— we’re always glad to do that anyway, whether we get the particular job we figure on or not.

After a thorough examination and 10 days’ trial, if you are convinced that you want an Excelle, you need send us only $5 then, and the balance in conveniently arranged payments over the next nine months. But if you don’t want to keep the Excelle, remember you can return it without question, for you are under no obligation in accepting this free trial offer in this way.

This won’t put you under the least obligation. If we can’t show you that it is to your interest to take up this matter, it is our fault not yours. Just mail the card and let us put the facts before you. You must wear the smile of satisfaction, or it’s no sale. That’s our guarantee on every machine. Can you ask more! On that understanding, will you mail the enclosed blank?