Historical Society holds holiday open house, Dec. 11

By Toby Moore

For Capital Region Independent Media

When I was young I spent a lot of time at my dad’s office.

He started as a door-to-door vacuum cleaner salesman. Nowadays, if you want a state-of-the-art vacuum cleaner, you’ll buy it online, but back then, more than likely, you bought one from a door-to-door vacuum cleaner salesman.

Picture this: a determined salesperson at your doorstep, promising a quick 10-minute demonstration. You’d let him in while swearing that you wouldn’t buy a thing. Fast forward four hours, and somehow, you’re inviting him to stay for dinner, all while signing a check for a $1,200 vacuum cleaner, utterly convinced it would transform your life.

Those were the days. My dad made it so big that he became a regional distributor, overseeing over 30 offices and hundreds of salespeople.

Imagine an army of high-pressure salespeople who once earned minimum wage but now make $1,000 in weekly commissions. And this was in the 1970s and 1980s—when such earnings were nothing short of a windfall.

My dad would rent out entire hotels for grand conventions. Hundreds of salespeople would flood these venues, turning them into scenes from a movie. They were living large, having made small fortunes selling vacuum cleaners.

It was an incredible sight. As my father’s firstborn son, I had a unique vantage point. I was always around the best salespeople in the industry.

When I turned 18, I followed in my grandfather’s and father’s footsteps—driving all over the countryside, knocking on doors and giving demonstrations.

At first, I was timid, but it wasn’t long before I gained confidence and started trying new closing techniques. I got kicked out of more than a few houses and felt my life was in danger when I pointed out how much dirt was coming out of the carpet, offending the wife and sending the husband into a rage.

After just a few months on the job, the organization held a competition to see who could sell the most vacuums. I was young but had an advantage. I’d been surrounded by closers my whole life. I won the competition selling nine vacuums in one week—a challenging task, even for the best.

Eventually, I moved on to different endeavors, but the lessons I learned during that time have stuck with me ever since and are valuable in every field and profession.

Let me take you into the mind of a closer.

A closer doesn’t sell anything they wouldn’t buy themselves. There may be exceptions, like real estate, where a closer might not buy a particular property personally but still believes in its inherent value.

A good closer never pre-qualifies. It’s easy to assume some people wouldn’t buy your product. However, a true closer NEVER does this. They believe the prospect needs their product, regardless of the situation.

A closer can read the prospect and know how to tailor their approach, addressing their unique needs and concerns to build trust and rapport quickly.

A good closer is often a loner, steering clear of small talk at the office, which can lead to negativity—a poison for the closer. They avoid distractions, focusing solely on good, solid, positive thoughts.

Confidence and comfort are critical traits of a good closer. They make others feel comfortable, fit in like a chameleon, can relate, and are always respectful.

They leave a remarkable impression, always building up the customers and making them feel valued. They are organized, never procrastinate, and always remember that their customer is a human being with unique needs and concerns.

A good closer never lets a missed sale get them down. They might feel the sting of a lost opportunity, but instead of beating themselves up, they use it as a learning experience.

Closers don’t complain. They understand that complaining can lead to self-doubt and quickly lead them to seek a different line of work, so they avoid it at all costs.

The best closers understand that customers aren’t just buying a product but investing in the person selling it. My father’s success with vacuum sales wasn’t just about the machines he sold; it was about the genuine relationships he built with each customer, a timeless and invaluable lesson.

In the end, it’s these connections that turn a simple transaction into a lasting legacy.

Toby Moore is a columnist, the star of Emmy-nominated “A Separate Peace,” and the CEO of Cubestream Inc.