LBM Sales Fundamentals Workshop

kids these days must understand: They’re not entitled to nuthin.”

The 21-year-old intern project engineer from Columbus: “It’s a great message for the managers recruiting us. They need to make time for us. Expecting us to just figure it out—and then yelling at us when it’s not done to their satisfaction—is the reason people keep quitting.”

The 43-year-old purchasing manager in Seattle: “Exactly. Salespeople in construction need to understand I don’t owe them anything. Just because you emailed me doesn’t mean I need to respond. I’m busy. Just because you leave a four-minute voicemail doesn’t require me to call you back. And I’m sure as hell not obligated to accept your LinkedIn request. Get over yourself. Be useful. Deliver value first.”

Sure, I say. To it all.

For me, the reason it’s in a 48-inch frame hanging on the wall across from my desk . . . and on my hat and t-shirt is simple: It’s the standard.

If I can continually strive to show up without any sense of entitlement and consistently deliver some value first, well then, I believe good things are more likely to happen.

If I can instill this in my children through sheer repetition and ubiquity, all the better for their lives too. (My 17-year-old son: “Oh, you want me to mow the lawn? Well, let’s see. Have you delivered value first today, Dad?” I responded by snatching the Boston Creme from his lips and giving it to his brother.)

You are owed nothing. Deliver value first.

So, where did the mantra come from?

Alaska.

Nearly a decade ago, I was leading a sales workshop in Anchorage. (I was told it’s beautiful there but I was bathed in darkness for the duration of my trip. I’ll have to return when the sun does.)

This particular segment of the workshop was devoted to sales reps sharing their most memorable customer interactions—and the insights they extracted from them.

“Who’s got a great story they’re willing to share?” I asked.

A sales pro in his early thirties raised his hand. “Oooh, I’ve got a doozy,” he said.

His story began early in his sales career. He was earning a small builder’s confidence. The builder’s business grew steadily and their relationship deepened. Trust, loyalty, and mutually beneficial collaboration accumulated over time. More and more product categories became the responsibility of the sales rep.

Then one day, the sales rep surfaced on a new build, unannounced.

Bile leapt in his throat.

He slammed his truck into park, seething at what stood before him: a Denali-sized pile of his competitor’s material.

As his narrow gaze swept across the acre parcel like a lighthouse beam, it got worse.

Every few feet illuminated more and more of his competitor’s logo. The mental tally of his lost commissions ballooned into five-figures.

The young rep stomped right up to the builder. Interrupting a conversation with the excavator, the sales rep tapped the owner on the shoulder and proceeded to deliver a piece of his mind.

The verb betrayed was hurled. Bystanders heard the phrase, stabbed in the back.

The 50-something builder let the young man vent.

“Are you done yet, son?”

“I guess so,” the rep sighed.

“Good. Because it’s my turn now: I appreciate you and your company. I understand what you can—and cannot—do to help me grow me business. Yes, I chose to buy from someone else and I understand you’re upset. But this ain’t about you. I’m the customer. So never, ever forget this: You are owed nothing. You got that?”

Everyone in the workshop was silent.

Except for me.

“You are owed nothing. Deliver value first,” I mumbled out loud, without realizing I’d said anything at all.

The young Alaskan salesman extended his index finger at me and said, “Hey now—that’s good stuff right there. You should trademark that, bro.”

The seven words reverberated like a 2x4 across my face. It clearly resonated with the young Alaskan salesman as well. I made a mental note to follow his advice: I would trademark it.

I had always known that Deliver Value First was right, but trite. Certainly nothing new.

But paired with this blunt reminder from the builder in this sales rep’s oh-so memorable story, it instantly provided me with a mantra—a battle cry!—I could recite to help me keep my own head on straight.

Because that’s what construction is—it’s a battle. Hell, that’s what life is.

You gotta fight to build the life you want. And everyone is fighting their own battle, everyday.

You are owed nothing.

Deliver value first.