Star Bores -- Lessons From Hollywood

A few months ago, owing to the silly deadline imposed by Attila the Editor-in-Chief and his sidekick BakSlash the Editor, I had to write this column on Super Bowl Sunday. This chore, of course, meant that I was working whilst the rest of America was having fun.

Another unofficial holiday has rolled around, and again I have to work while it happens. This is Academy Awards Monday, and most folks are attending Oscar parties and eating hors d'oeuvres.

It's just as well that I wasn't invited to any of these gatherings because I haven't seen a single nominated movie. My ignorance would have made me a boring guest.

Crashing Bores
However, I am going to watch the Oscar ceremony on my office television while I write this column. I managed to write and watch TV during the Super Bowl. I can do it again. Besides, I get a kick out of watching grown-ups take themselves too seriously—whether on TV or in real life. If you let them, they will just go on and on about themselves. There is an archaic phrase that describes these folks: "crashing bores."

I think David Niven used that very phrase in several films when he would say in his marvelous English voice, "My dear fellow, you are a crashing bore." Then Niven would slap the offender with his white glove. There's no slapping with gloves any more. That's probably why we have so many crashing bores.

Kim Basinger just won an Oscar for a film titled "L.A. Confidential." Didn't see it, but I think she took herself a wee might too seriously during her acceptance speech.

I've said it before: Great print salespeople never take themselves too seriously; they take their customers, co-workers and their work seriously. They know, instinctively at least, that an ego only gets in the way when it comes to selling printing.

Goodness knows it's hard enough to sell printing without constructing personal barriers. The competitive barriers alone are too formidable to allow personal peccadilloes to get in the way.

Too Much Talk
Robin Williams just got an Oscar for "Good Will Hunting." Don't have a clue what that movie was all about. But the title is a good

description of the job of print salespeople. Robin Williams is a great talent because he is an extemporaneous chameleon and, wow, is he a talker! Of course, in his case, it's part of his act. The worst sales-people are talkers. They just don't know when to stop.

Did you ever notice that crashing bores are inveterate name-droppers? I don't care what you are talking about, your conversation will somehow trigger a crashing-bore recollection of being in the Oval Office last week and on a safari with Kim Basinger, Helen Hunt and Jack Nicholson the week before.

I rode down an elevator once with Red Buttons and he said hello to me, but you won't hear me telling everybody. For that matter, I toured the very house where George Washington wintered at Valley Forge, but you'll never get that out of me.

The greatest salespeople are intent listeners—whether they are calling on a major prospect or stopping to chat with the janitor. This kind of listening is never feigned. It's a part of the great salesperson's persona because a great salesperson is truly interested in the cleaning man as well as the big print buyer.

Helen Hunt just won best actress for her performance in "As Good As It Gets." Nope, don't know her and didn't see the flick. But she does look familiar and that was a nice blue dress. I'll bet that irritating Joan Rivers had plenty to say about Helen Hunt's dress even though I thought it was fine.

That appears to be Joan River's only job now: criticizing what other people wear at various Hollywood events. That's akin to me getting paid to criticize other people for being too short, too thin or, er, ahem, too portly.

Joan River's job reminds me that hypocrisy is a trait that you will not find among the best salespeople. These winners are principled people, and if they embrace some belief, it applies to themselves first and foremost.

"Titanic" has won a slew of Academy Awards so far. Haven't seen it.

I'll probably see it in some Holiday Inn in Saginaw, MI, some lonely night if I can work up my nerve. I'm always reluctant to order a movie in a hotel because I'm afraid the people at the credit card company will think it was an X-rated movie and cancel my credit card. They should know that at age 55, I could care less about seeing naked people with 2-percent body fat cavorting. Somehow, my paranoia tells me those credit card people might assume the wrong thing.

But the issue of appearances brings to mind another thing about crashing bores. They always think they look better than they actually appear to others. Somehow and some way, they will let you know they are "lookin' good."

But, even worse, crashing bores always tell you how good they are at whatever it is they do. I get to worrying when people have to tell me how good they are. My theory is that truly talented people never have to tell it; you just "know" it. I have never known superstars in print sales who felt compelled to tell me how good they are.

Jack Nicholson just won best actor. Now, there's a guy who never tells you how good he is, and he is never a crashing bore. He's just good. (Robert Duvall, my favorite, didn't win. Likewise, he would never tell anybody how good he is.)

If my novel ever became a film, I'd want Robert Duvall and Jack Nicholson to star in it. But that novel is best saved in sector 608, partition 31, of this hard drive. You may not know this, but every columnist believes there is a novel in him or her. I'm no exception.

I wrote mine, and that was enough.

Unsung Heroes
Well, the Academy Awards show is still going on and on and on, and you know what I wish?

I wish there were awards for all the widows in your binderies who are supporting children on what they earn in your plants. I wish there was an award for the maintenance guy who's working two jobs. They are my real heroes.

You have a responsibility to yourself to succeed at print sales, but I hope you occasionally think about the work you generate for the "inside" people who produce what you sell. Go back there and thank them every once in a while.

I also wish that you will get out there, without boring anybody, and SELL SOMETHING!

P.S. I'm betting that "Titanic" wins the Oscar for best picture. My granddaughters have either paid to see the movie or Leonardo De-Somethingo four times. Their judgment is good enough for me.

—Harris DeWese

About the Author
Harris DeWese is the author of "Now Get Out There and Sell Something!" published by Nonpareil Books. DeWese is a principal at Compass Capital Partners. DeWese specializes in investment banking, mergers and acquisitions, sales, marketing, planning and management services to printing companies. He is one of the authors of the annual Compass Report, the definitive source of information regarding printing industry merger and acquisition activity. www.piworld.com now posts "DeWese on Sales" two weeks before Printing Impressions ships, courtesy of ProForma's sponsorship.