DeWese--Is Anybody Listening?

I don't think anybody listens anymore. But lots of people seem compelled to know everything. Even if they admit to little knowledge about some subject, they still have an opinion—and they express it freely and with great conviction. It's as if the more you know or the stronger your opinion, the stronger you are. As a consequence, if you presume to know everything and keep doing the talking, then you can control your life and the people around you.

A lot of CEOs suffer from knowing everything. You have seen it happen. Promote a regular guy to CEO and suddenly—it goes with the big office—he knows everything: what's wrong with sales and how to fix it; what's wrong with the plant and how to fix it; what the customers want and how to deliver it. After all, he's paid to know.

Some of you may have participated in meetings with the CEO in the conference room. He sits at the head of the table. You and a few other people sit at the table while the CEO talks. He ventilates and opines. You and your colleagues nod and agree. After all, he is the CEO. He thinks you're agreeing with his opinions but you aren't buying. As in the old fable, the emperor has no clothes and you're not telling him.

Let me dig into my Dysfunctional Printing Company file and see if I can't find an example of a CEO who doesn't listen. This one looks good. It dates back a few years and I'll change some of the numbers and the facts so you can't guess who it is. Matter-of-fact, I'll call the company Dysfunctional Litho; I'll call the CEO Joe Ray Smart.

Joe Ray and his three sisters, Claudia, Paula and Harriet, inherited the company from their daddy, the late great Claude Paul Harold Smart. Everybody used to call him CPH. You might say that the four children were members of the printing industry's famous lucky sperm club. Claudia, Paula and Harriet were all married and "wimmen," so it was only natural that their brother should run the company. Besides, he'd been hanging around in the sales department since he dropped out of college. The sisters were confident that Joe Ray would grow their inheritance, send them generous dividend checks and pay them well to sit on the board of directors.

The New Generation
One of Joe Ray's first acts was to expand CPH's old office. He commissioned a contractor to knock down the walls of two adjoining offices and triple the room's size. Daddy never spent much time in it because most of his 12-hour days were spent wandering the plant, commiserating with employees and calling on customers. Joe Ray would comment, "Oh, how daddy loved to waste time visiting with people."

Joe Ray and his fourth wife, Yolanda, traveled to New York with a decorator to visit showrooms and antique stores for some decent furniture to adorn the expanded CEO office. They spent $57,000 on paintings that the decorator adored.

Joe Ray saw no harm because the company had plenty of cash, no debt and was a PIA "High Profit" printer. It always had been. Joe Ray, however, intended to run the company differently than CPH, and would use the office for high-level staff meetings and conferences to pursue some "other" business interests with his buddies at the country club. He felt he would need to impress people with his status as CEO of a $38 million printing company.

Not long after he ascended to his new high office, Dysfunctional lost a $4 million account. Joe Ray swallowed hard, summoned the sales manager and chewed him out for allowing the largest account to get away. The sales manager argued that CPH always stayed close to the account and, with him dead and buried, the customer began to feel alienated. A large consolidator had approached the account with a National Account Program, promising pricing rebates, online order entry, online job tracking and an on-site representative. They bolted.

Several months later, three salespeople resigned to join a competitor and two CSRs followed them. Then the plant manager, after 23 years, left to join the same competitor. Sales followed all of these people and, suddenly, Dysfunctional would be hard pressed to top $30 million.

During the defections, Joe Ray golfed four afternoons a week, enjoyed long lunches at the club, never walked back in the plant and called on nary a customer.

His principle contact with employees had been occasional staff meetings where he talked strategy, complained about his subordinates' lack of performance and threatened to replace everybody. Most of all, however, he complained about "disloyal" customers who were defecting to competitors. Joe Ray would say, "For all these years my dear daddy babied these people, bought them lunches, went to their damn weddings and funerals, and carried them past due on the books—and this is the loyalty they show his memory."

After three years of not listening, Dysfunctional Litho was down to annual revenues of $21 million. It needed new equipment. It had turned over all the top managers, most of the salespeople, and many of the long-term and most experienced plant workers. Its market value had shrunk from $25 million to about $8 million. The sisters called a special board meeting and voted, 3 to 1, to fire their baby brother, Joe Ray, and sell the company.

This all goes to prove that you should never let a talker run a printing company. Only listeners will do.

It also applies to print salespeople. If you are a talker, get yourself a job selling for one of the home shopping networks. The only listening you will do will be to Claudia, Pauline or Harriet when they call to place an order and you put them on the air.

On the other hand, if you are a listener, then you are probably going to make it. You will know what your customers seek because you've listened to them. When you know what they seek, then you have a shot at customer satisfaction. When you satisfy them, then you have served them well.

I can think of some CEOs who ought to spend the next 24 months on a "listening mission," calling on customers with their salespeople. Their spare time should be spent in the plant listening to the workers and "listening" to the jobs as they are produced. Miraculously, their companies will turn around. This, incidentally, is not limited to small printing companies; some of the large-company CEOs should spend the next 60 months listening to customers. Salespeople should do the same. Listen to customers and prospects four or five times a day and your sales will soar.

All of this talk about listening reminds me that it's not too late to order "The Customer Speaks: Criteria for Selecting Printers" from the Printing Industries of Michigan. It is a 100-page transcript of a focus group comprised of 15 print buyers who purchase more than $80 million annually in printing services. You can order by calling (248) 354-9200 and asking for Kathy or Chris. If Joe Ray had read it, he might still have his job.

Now, get out there, ask some questions, listen hard and sell something!

—Harris DeWese

About the Author
Harris DeWese is the author of "Now Get Out There and Sell Something!" He is a principal at Compass Capital Partners and specializes in investment banking, mergers and acquisitions, sales, marketing, planning and management services to printing companies.