When I was deciding on the topic for this post, I saw a couple of likely prompts in the latest online edition of the iconic Atlantic Magazine. Though what I decided upon seems a bit more sobering than my other blurbs here, it certainly gets your attention.
Pretty grim, for sure. Moribund, even. Still, the concept of using the contemplation of death is a time-tested catalyst for making production happen. In the piece, two-time Pulitzer prize finalist Russell Banks tells of his discovering the saying in a skull over five decades ago at the start of his career as a successful writer:
“I read the phrase the first time a half-century ago in the dark and dusty window of a used furniture store in Keene, New Hampshire. “Remember Death.” Both words capitalized. They were incised beneath the winged head of a wide-eyed, open-mouthed, plaster angel cast from a late 17th- or early 18th-century slate gravestone. I’d remember if I paid much more than 10 dollars for it—I was newly married then, working as an apprentice plumber and living on a tight budget.”
“Remember Death“ is a memento mori, as most Latin scholars know. I’m not one of those, so I google.. According to Wikipedia, a memento mori ( ‘remember that you will die’) is an artistic or symbolic reminder of the inevitability of death.
An ancient one, at that. There is evidence of the sentiment being a stimulating factor among groups as diverse as Roman troops, ancient Buddhists, even pre-Christians. “Remembering Death” not an especially savory invigorating expression, but has a great track record of achieving results.
In an my last entry on this page, I discussed the widely known but often ignored necessity of recognizing nonverbal clues in order to effectively communicate. Those that choose to ignore them do so at their peril. Quite simply, it puts them at a major disadvantage against more savvy competitors and costs them money or time–or both.
Doing so is kinda like trying to watch TV without a remote. It’s harder, and you miss a lot.
In the course of my career in sales and marketing, I have taught hundreds of people the methods to use when interpreting unspoken clues from potential clients, after first using them myself. I can’t remember an occasion when these proven tools did not work quickly and productively. Without exception, experts recognize the importance of understanding nonverbal cues in order to communicate efficiently. The general standard is that 55% of communication is nonverbal.
Now, I don’t know whether the people to whom I taught these methods of interpretation used them in their personal lives, but I know that I did, and likely always will. They work there, too. Since nonverbal clues are driven by our subconsciouses, the fact that they do so simply makes sense. They’re a result of our DNA.
Following this line of thinking, there is no reason to believe that we are essentially any different in our online communication. Hidden clues to accurate interpretation are harder to read, yes, but they’re still there–we just have to apply different techniques in finding them. The problem? There’s not much available research on the subject, as online interpretation is subject to, well, our own interpretation.
What I offer here are my personal means of interpreting online data. They are based on two distinct fields that must also carefully examine online data: academia and, um, online poker.
The world of academia is flooded with challenges in interpreting the truth of content submitted. Cutting and pasting without proper acknowledgement is part of everyday web life for everyone, of course, but schools of higher learning are mandated to properly identify it as such. In “The Plagiarism Handbook,” Robert Harris offers methods of identifying it to professors, as one college identifies:
The most common type of plagiarism on term papers here at the University of Alberta tends to be the unacknowledged use of sentences or paragraphs from websites. Robert Harris lists several ways to detect plagiarized passages, including abrupt changes in style or diction, unusual or inconsistent formatting, and obvious references to facts or people outside the scope of the paper.
In the wildly different arena of poker, one of its essential elements is the interpretation (or not) of “tells”–inconsistent or exaggerated player displays during the course of the game. That old saying “don’t play the cards–play the player” is for real, and a large part of the pastime’s essence. Online poker has tells, too, as listed in the second half of this vid.:
The first part is from the cult movie hit “Rounders.” In it, Matt Damon and John Malkovich give a great view of how the game is played in person, albeit an exaggerated one. I like this clip because it transitions nicely between real world nonverbal interpretation and the adjustments needed to do so in the virtual world.
When I am interpreting data transmitted on the web, I look for many of the same characteristics that I do in studying nonverbal communication live. Both academia and poker experts urge the same things, too.
Inconsistency. Exaggeration. Timing (exceedingly fast or slow responses).
This works for me. Reading is reading. Left-to-right. Right-to-left. Visual. Virtual. It’s all the same.
A couple of days ago, I played in my first live poker tournament at a casino. The home and online versions? Been there, done that. Though I used to frequent casinos fairly regularly when I traveled the U.S. for a decade as a consultant, blackjack and craps have always been my games.
Well, I left that profession in 2005 and moved to an area of the country without casino gambling close by. Until last week, I had never thought seriously about going to one again. In checking my email recently, I got a notice from Greyhound that a free bus pass to anywhere in the nation that I had won was about to expire. The negotiation reference? Just below the fold. Promise. There is a point to my rambling.
There are several reasons that I hadn’t used the free ticket. It’s no secret that most bus terminals are kinda seedy, and many of the passengers are, too. The main reason, though, is that I don’t feel like taking a trip of any distance on a bus. It’s way too time-consuming. It takes about eighteen hours, for instance, just to go from my location in Pensacola to Miami, and the bus never leaves Florida.
Forced to either use my free trip or lose it, though, I decided to take a three-hour ride along the Gulf Coast to a Biloxi, Mississippi casino locally famed for its poker room. My mission? To finally play in a live Texas Hold’em tourney.
Well, I did. I sat at a standard poker table of ten players and used the techniques that I had learned playing online. I followed the advice of a pro’s online video on tells, too. Somehow, I ended up in the final two. The other finalist, a local, turned to me and said “Wanta chuck?”
“I don’t know what that is,” I said.
“It’s when we split the pot,” he said. The dealer nodded.
“No thanks,” I said. “Maybe later.” Thus, the negotiations began.
“I won’t do it later,” Fred responded. “I only offer it one time.” The starting positions were set.
In my twenty-plus years of sales and marketing management, I negotiated every day. I mean EVERY day. So, following a basic rule of sales, after my initial position was established, I shut up and and listened.
As most know, negotiations and compromise go hand in hand. The movies often reflect a fantasy about negotiation, but it is just that. A fantasy–as in this clip from “Bad Santa” (a guilty fave) with the late great Bernie Mac:
Funny, but that’s not negotiation, despite the title by the uploader. At least, not in real life.
Anyway, back at the poker table I “innocently” asked questions. This worked for me, as throughout the tourney I had mentioned that this was my first time playing live. True, but not the whole story. Just planting a seed, of course, but also setting the tone. I kept it up.
I shut up and didn’t ante. Neither the other finalist, who I’ll call Fred. I just sat there, waiting for him to speak first, while the dealer watched. After about a minute of silence, he did.
“Whatta you think?” Fred said. “It’s a good deal right now.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, innocently.
“The pot isn’t going up much,” he said. Both he and the dealer looked at a board behind me. “The pot amount just increased, too”
“Why?” I asked, and looked to the dealer for an answer.
“It’s based on time played,” she said. “We’ve just hit the maximum pot size amount.”
“Okay,” I said.” I turned to Fred. “How much do you have?” He hesitated, so I asked the dealer the same question. The other finalist lifted his hands and uncovered his chips, as required when asked at this point. “About the same amount as you do,” he continued. “Around $30,000. Too bad they’re just play chips,” he laughed. The dealer smiled politely.
“Is it a good deal?” I asked, looking directly at the dealer. She wasn’t allowed to say so aloud, but gave an almost undetectable nod of the head while lifting the corners of her Mona Lisa smile.
“It’s up to you, bud,” the other finalist said. “We can go on, but if we split now, we both win.”
I looked at the dealer again. She was staring at me expectantly. Fred waited, too, while playing with his chip stack.
I felt no pressure. Fred was a good player, but a loose one. He made risky bets, and bluffed a lot. Dangerous. I have played online enough to know that anything can happen in poker, especially at this stage. I felt that I was the steadier player, but I had to weigh the risk of the situation against the small added reward.
In sales negotiation, the worst salespeople look at the process as a win-lose situation. Kinda a “me vs. them” thing. Those at the top know that negotiations work best with a win-win mindset. By concentrating first on helping the client meet their needs while staying within the parameters of their organization, the salesperson makes more commissions (and goodwill), too.
“Okay.” I said. “Let’s chuck. I’ll split.”
Everybody was happy. I made small talk with Fred, who ordered glasses of wine for each of us. We drank it while the pit boss prepared paperwork authorizing a pot split. We were paid, and we left. I went to my room in the hotel and resumed working on a grant proposal for a client.
Proposals, of course, are all about controlled persuasion. It’s negotiation, but there’s seldom personal contact, so one has to present their written case to the grantor effectively. On this particular grant, the awarding foundation states in its RFP (Request For Proposal) that it will consider giving awards higher than the publicized limits.
It would be great for my client to be granted the full amount needed at once. It would also be less work for me as the grant writer than combining lesser amounts from several grantors. Harder for the foundation, though. Less for other worthy causes.
So, just like at the poker table, I elected to compromise for a lower amount in this written negotiation. It’s not weakness in any way, but a savvy sort of strength. A bit more work, but everybody wins.
Compromise must always be anticipated in negotiation. That’s the nature of the beast.
The “my way or the highway” approach may have worked for Bernie Mac in the clip above, and for actors in other movies, but that’s not real life. Occasionally politicos succeed with this hard-line approach, too, but the result is usually failure.
Win-win rules. Win-lose is a crapshoot.
Bad karma, also. Basically, just not good business.
When I was deciding on the topic for this post, I saw a couple of likely prompts in the latest online edition of the iconic Atlantic Magazine. Though what I decided upon seems a bit more sobering than my other blurbs here, it certainly gets your attention.
Right Good 