Selling Bike Quotes

This morning I was walking through Manhattan, head down, checking directions, when I looked up to see a fruit truck selling lychee, two pounds for five bucks, and I had ten bucks in my pocket! Then while buying my bus ticket for later that evening I witnessed the Transbridge teller’s face soften after she had endured a couple unusually rude interactions in front of me as I kept eye contact and thanked her. She called me honey first (delight), baby second (delight), and almost smiled before I turned away. On my way to the Flatiron building there was an aisle of kousa dogwood—looking parched, but still, the prickly knobs of fruit nestled beneath the leaves. A cup of coffee from a well-shaped cup. A fly, its wings hauling all the light in the room, landing on the porcelain handle as if to say, “Notice the precise flare of this handle, as though designed for the romance between the thumb and index finger that holding a cup can be.” Or the peanut butter salty enough. Or the light blue bike the man pushed through the lobby. Or the topknot of the barista. Or the sweet glance of the man in his stylish short pants (well-lotioned ankles gleaming beneath) walking two little dogs. Or the woman stepping in and out of her shoe, her foot curling up and stretching out and curling up.

...the concept of marketing is almost as old as humanity itself...suffice it to say here that it took almost no time for a wily serpent to sell Adam and Eve on a shiny apple from the Tree of Knowledge, at which point they became not only the first humans but also the first marketing demographic, and God expelled them from the Garden of Eden for being total consumerist dupes. (p. 40)

Selling your house, giving away possessions, working multiple jobs for a period of time, going back to school and moving in with friends or relatives, sharing a car with your partner and riding your bike more, investing all your savings in a new venture, living on the other side of the world for a year— your friends may not understand, your co-workers may not get it, your extended family may think you’ve lost your mind— that’s okay. Better to receive some odd looks and have a few people roll their eyes than spend your days wondering, What if I did that . . . ? Take that step. Make that leap. Try that new thing. If it helps clarify your ikigai, if it gets you up in the morning, if it’s good for you and the world, do it.

On Persephone," informed Harrison, "a long-shanked Milik offered me a twenty-karat, blue-tinted, first-water diamond for my bike." "Jeepers, didn't you take it?" "What was the good? I'd have had to go back sixteen light-years for another bike." "But, man, you could exist without a bike for a while." "I can exist without a diamond. I can't ride around on a diamond." "Neither can you sell a bicycle for the price of a sportster Moonboat." "Yes, I can. I just told you this Milik offered me a rock like an egg.

To succeed in sales, you must observe only five rules: 1. Qualify your prospects. 2. Extract your prospect’s pain. 3. Verify that the prospect has money. 4.   Be sure the prospect is a decision maker. 5.   Match your service or product to the prospect’s pain.

When I finally leave the market, the streets are dark, and I pass a few blocks where not a single electric light appears – only dark open storefronts and coms (fast-food eateries), broom closet-sized restaurants serving fish, meat, and rice for under a dollar, flickering candles barely revealing the silhouettes of seated figures. The tide of cyclists, motorbikes, and scooters has increased to an uninterrupted flow, a river that, given the slightest opportunity, diverts through automobile traffic, stopping it cold, spreads into tributaries that spill out over sidewalks, across lots, through filling stations. They pour through narrow openings in front of cars: young men, their girlfriends hanging on the back; families of four: mom, dad, baby, and grandma, all on a fragile, wobbly, underpowered motorbike; three people, the day’s shopping piled on a rear fender; women carrying bouquets of flapping chickens, gathered by their feet while youngest son drives and baby rests on the handlebars; motorbikes carrying furniture, spare tires, wooden crates, lumber, cinder blocks, boxes of shoes. Nothing is too large to pile onto or strap to a bike. Lone men in ragged clothes stand or sit by the roadsides, selling petrol from small soda bottles, servicing punctures with little patch kits and old bicycle pumps.

When you’re afraid of going forward, you fall. By advancing, you constantly prevent the worst thing that could happen: falling. You might fail, but look at it this way. A cyclist and someone, who is terrified of biking, have an accident. The cyclist will know why he fell, and will make sure it doesn’t happen again; he will continue biking, however. The other person will make sure it doesn’t happen by never biking again. I had an acquaintance tell me something that still sticks with me now: doubt will get you out of action, and action will get you out of doubts.   Success is waiting for you. Stop overthinking it, and move forward like it’s the Tour de France.   You won’t be doubting yourself again.

A 1997 study of the consumer product design firm IDEO found that most of the company’s biggest successes originated as “combinations of existing knowledge from disparate industries.” IDEO’s designers created a top-selling water bottle, for example, by mixing a standard water carafe with the leak-proof nozzle of a shampoo container. The power of combining old ideas in new ways also extends to finance, where the prices of stock derivatives are calculated by mixing formulas originally developed to describe the motion of dust particles with gambling techniques. Modern bike helmets exist because a designer wondered if he could take a boat’s hull, which can withstand nearly any collision, and design it in the shape of a hat. It even reaches to parenting, where one of the most popular baby books—Benjamin Spock’s The Common Sense Book of Baby and Child Care, first published in 1946—combined Freudian psychotherapy with traditional child-rearing techniques. “A lot of the people we think of as exceptionally creative are essentially intellectual middlemen,” said Uzzi. “They’ve learned how to transfer knowledge between different industries or groups. They’ve seen a lot of different people attack the same problems in different settings, and so they know which kinds of ideas are more likely to work.” Within sociology, these middlemen are often referred to as idea or innovation brokers. In one study published in 2004, a sociologist named Ronald Burt studied 673 managers at a large electronics company and found that ideas that were most consistently ranked as “creative” came from people who were particularly talented at taking concepts from one division of the company and explaining them to employees in other departments. “People connected across groups are more familiar with alternative ways of thinking and behaving,” Burt wrote. “The between-group brokers are more likely to express ideas, less likely to have ideas dismissed, and more likely to have ideas evaluated as valuable.” They were more credible when they made suggestions, Burt said, because they could say which ideas had already succeeded somewhere else.

I forgot the maid who works in my P.G. and struggles to make money, every day, who is in fear that one day her cruel husband will find her out eventually and beat her and her son to death. I forgot that auto driver I met on my way to M.G. road metro station, and who wanted to be in the army but gave up study due to the financial crisis. I forgot that security guard I met at IIT Delhi, and who was forced to leave the study and marry at the age of 15. I forgot those little kids I generally encounter at Railway stations and trains selling packets of pens @ Rs.25 per packet. I forgot that 75 years old ricksha wala I met in sector 23 market with only one eye and high power lens I forgot that washroom cleaning staff at my office who always welcomes me with a broad smile. I forgot the dead body of that martyred soldier I saw at the Kashmir airport, laden with garlands of marigold and people shouting," jawan amar rahe!" I forgot the scream of that pig near my office when a thick rope was brutally tied in its nose and it was forcefully taken by some people on a bike. I almost forgot everything!

Twenty years? No kidding: twenty years? It’s hard to believe. Twenty years ago, I was—well, I was much younger. My parents were still alive. Two of my grandchildren had not yet been born, and another one, now in college, was an infant. Twenty years ago I didn’t own a cell phone. I didn’t know what quinoa was and I doubt if I had ever tasted kale. There had recently been a war. Now we refer to that one as the First Gulf War, but back then, mercifully, we didn’t know there would be another. Maybe a lot of us weren’t even thinking about the future then. But I was. And I’m a writer. I wrote The Giver on a big machine that had recently taken the place of my much-loved typewriter, and after I printed the pages, very noisily, I had to tear them apart, one by one, at the perforated edges. (When I referred to it as my computer, someone more knowledgeable pointed out that my machine was not a computer. It was a dedicated word processor. “Oh, okay then,” I said, as if I understood the difference.) As I carefully separated those two hundred or so pages, I glanced again at the words on them. I could see that I had written a complete book. It had all the elements of the seventeen or so books I had written before, the same things students of writing list on school quizzes: characters, plot, setting, tension, climax. (Though I didn’t reply as he had hoped to a student who emailed me some years later with the request “Please list all the similes and metaphors in The Giver,” I’m sure it contained those as well.) I had typed THE END after the intentionally ambiguous final paragraphs. But I was aware that this book was different from the many I had already written. My editor, when I gave him the manuscript, realized the same thing. If I had drawn a cartoon of him reading those pages, it would have had a text balloon over his head. The text would have said, simply: Gulp. But that was twenty years ago. If I had written The Giver this year, there would have been no gulp. Maybe a yawn, at most. Ho-hum. In so many recent dystopian novels (and there are exactly that: so many), societies battle and characters die hideously and whole civilizations crumble. None of that in The Giver. It was introspective. Quiet. Short on action. “Introspective, quiet, and short on action” translates to “tough to film.” Katniss Everdeen gets to kill off countless adolescent competitors in various ways during The Hunger Games; that’s exciting movie fare. It sells popcorn. Jonas, riding a bike and musing about his future? Not so much. Although the film rights to The Giver were snapped up early on, it moved forward in spurts and stops for years, as screenplay after screenplay—none of them by me—was

People buy emotionally, and they justify their decisions intellectually.

And we agreed, didn’t we, that it’s OK for you to tell me ‘no’ today, and it’s OK for you to say ‘yes.’ But what we don’t want to do is spend this time together and say ‘I’ve got to think it over.’ That’s not acceptable. In other words, you will make the decision today. Am I right about all of that?” Be

So take three instances at random. A young white college sophomore throws a Molotov cocktail that burns down a black-owned deli, and he does this because he wants to register his deep dissatisfaction with the police treatment of blacks in that city. Or another person, as timid as they come, is out for a walk on a bike path, two miles out of town, all by herself, and she is wearing a mask. Or someone else thinks that it can cost two dollars to get a gallon of milk to market, but also thinks that we can make the make the greedster grocer sell it for a buck fifty, and yet still have milk on the shelf. What do these, and countless other instances, have in common? What they all have in common is that these people received a lousy education. As we watch this great parade of duncical folly every night on the news, one thought should come back to haunt us with every fresh insult to right reason. And that thought should be, "Who educated these people?" And the follow-up question should be, "And why haven't they been sacked?

I’m tired of doing the dog-and-pony show. I’m tired of being enthusiastic and giving million-dollar presentations to people who can’t buy a cup of coffee, or say yes or no. The

In the car that morning, I described the ideal selling system. Here’s how it would work: Prospects would deliver the presentations themselves. They would raise the stalls and objections, and they would resolve them. They would qualify themselves financially. They would close the sale. And finally, they would thank me for calling on them!

You’ll know that the sale has been closed even before you deliver the presentation. Sometimes, you don’t even have to deliver the presentation!

Courage is all about taking action. Courage requires discipline, vitality, and guts to face those tasks in your profession that make you feel uncomfortable.

Your identity, since birth, has remained unchanged. Your roles never have and never will define your identity. You may think they do, but they don’t. It’s difficult to separate your identity from your role, but it’s important to see that there’s a difference.

Take the initiative to introduce yourself. One morning I was sitting on a bike in a spinning class at my gym. There was a lady whom I did not know sitting on the bike next to me. As we waited for the instructor, I decided to break the silence and start a conversation. I took the initiative to introduce myself and within a few short minutes, I knew her children’s names, how long she had lived in Madison, which exercise classes she preferred, and where they went for Christmas. When the class was over, I confirmed that I remembered her name correctly, reminded her of mine and shared that it was a true pleasure meeting her. A simple introduction turned a stranger into a fresh and delightful new acquaintance.

So I saw that there is nothing better for men than that they should be happy in their work, for that is what they are here for, and no one can bring them back to life to enjoy what will be in the future, so let them enjoy it now. —Ecclesiastes 3:22 (TLB) Recently, I learned that a book on friendship that I’d written with my best friend, Melanie, was rejected by a publisher who had been very positive about it for over two years. I was devastated. All those months and years of writing, rewriting, and then reworking it again…only to have it rejected in the end. I was ready to give up my career altogether, retire, and concentrate on biking, swimming, kayaking, and traveling. Then I read something my pen pal Oscar had written about his own retirement twenty-five years earlier. He wrote that in retirement we must have direction and purpose, accept change, remain curious and confident, communicate, and be committed. The longer I looked at his list, the more it spoke to me. Why, those are the very attributes I need to be a good writer, I thought. So I decided to buckle down and rework other unsold manuscripts I’d written over the years. Using Oscar’s plan of direction, purpose, confidence, and commitment helped me to stop telling people that I didn’t have any marketing genes and to keep busy rewriting and looking for different publishers. I may never sell all of my work, but I’m living a life filled with purpose. And I’m a whole lot happier in my semiretirement than if I was just playing every day, all day. Father, give me purpose in life whether it’s volunteer work, pursuing dreams, reworking an old career, or finding a new way to use the talents You’ve given me. —Patricia Lorenz Digging Deeper: Prv 16:9; Rom 12:3–8

We love you because you are you.” “It is OK to like yourself.” “Don’t measure yourself by what others accomplish.

A black Jewish boy runs home from school one day and asks his father, “Daddy, am I more Jewish or more black?” The dad replies, “Why do you want to know, son?” “Because a kid at school is selling a bike for $50 and I want to know if I should talk him down to $40 or just steal it!

The first source is anticipated opportunities—the opportunities that you can see and choose to pursue. In Honda’s case, it was the big-bike market in the United States. When you put in place a plan focused on these anticipated opportunities, you are pursuing a deliberate strategy. The second source of options is unanticipated—usually a cocktail of problems and opportunities that emerges while you are trying to implement the deliberate plan or strategy that you have decided upon. At Honda, what was unanticipated were the problems with the big bikes, the costs associated with fixing them, and the opportunity to sell the little Super Cub motorbikes.

Normals were faced with a bunch of insufferable snobs who thought the rules did not apply to them—though the rules sure as hell applied to the Normals—and who were not constrained by any limitations other than their own desires. And the Normals? When they were a consideration at all, the fact that something made life harder for Normals was a selling point. Let’s take away a lane Normals commute on to work and make it a bike lane that one guy an hour will use while the suckers sit idling on gridlocked streets.

the performance of British riders had been so underwhelming that one of the top bike manufacturers in Europe refused to sell bikes to the team because they were afraid that it would hurt sales if other professionals saw the Brits using their gear.

focus on the major pains expressed by your prospect, and make your points as quickly and sparingly as possible.

Selling professionally requires modification of your behavior and the altering of preconceived ideas that have been ingrained in the minds of both salespeople and prospects for centuries.

It’s not how you feel that determines how you act. It’s how you act that determines how you feel.

If you want to escape the traps of traditional selling and surpass your best performances of the past, learn the Reversing technique as soon as possible. When you do, you’ll stop telling and you’ll start selling. —DAVID H. SANDLER

The Catalog and the Truck Store became a vehicle for Brand to follow his whims and chase after any kind of new idea. He reviewed a build-your-own-airplane kit and found it interesting enough that he decided to order one. Ultimately, the plane, unfinished and unflown, ended up in the barn on Bill English’s property. Brand purchased a BMW motorcycle and discovered that as great an adventure tool as his new motorbike was, it was also probably more risk than it was worth. Thinking about the hazard of zipping along the freeway at seventy miles per hour, he decided to sell the bike after several misadventures.

When people make decisions, they are either moving toward pleasure or away from pain. People make decisions intellectually, but they buy emotionally. —DAVID H. SANDLER

No use talking about a feature or benefit that’s not relevant—it might sabotage the sale.

If you have several pains to present, start with the one that’s most bothersome to your prospect. By doing so, it’s possible that you won’t have to finish your presentation. Get the major objection out of the way, and your prospect may not care about anything else. Remember, you do not have to finish the presentation. Your goal is to get an order, not to win an Academy Award for best presenter.

As soon as the prospect interrupts you, or responds to you, stop! Don’t talk. You already know what you’re going to say. It’s far more important to know what’s on the prospect’s mind. Perhaps you’ll discover the sale has been closed and there’s no need to continue.

Incidentally, prospects won’t always interrupt you verbally. Be alert for body motion. Shaking the head, or crossing the arms, or looking away from you may each mean something significant. Take a pause, and give the prospect an opportunity to speak.

The second source of options is unanticipated—usually a cocktail of problems and opportunities that emerges while you are trying to implement the deliberate plan or strategy that you have decided upon. At Honda, what was unanticipated were the problems with the big bikes, the costs associated with fixing them, and the opportunity to sell the little Super Cub motorbikes.

Tell her there's still something wrong with the bike you're selling and Adam is going to fix it for you, but he needs to test drive it first," said Mark. Jimmy face broke in a wide smile. "I like the way you think. Some of my charm is wearing off on you." Mark's face broke into a wide smile as well. "I wouldn't call it 'charm'. It rhymes more with bull spit.

Language: if you’re not a member of your target market, you need to learn the language and jargon used within your target market. If you’re selling BMX bikes, you need talk about “endos,” “sick wheelies” and “bunny hops,” not features, benefits, and specifications. If you’re selling golf clubs, you need to talk about “hooks,” “slices” and “handicaps.

Struggle a little bit! At first, it’ll be difficult—or awkward—struggling on purpose. But every technique created by Sandler Training requires practice—reinforcement training—to accomplish it.

An Up-Front Contract is based on the legal concept of a contract. Any valid legal contract consists of four major components and several minor components. On paper, here’s what it looks like: 1. Lawful object 2. Competency 3. Consideration 4. Mutual consent A. Understanding B. A proposal, verbal or written C. Acceptance

Eclatant de rire, Sarah enfourcha la bicyclette, et resta immobile. – Et maintenant ? demanda-t-elle. Incrédule, Jesse contempla les longues jambes de la jeune femme et poussa un soupir. – Pose un pied après l'autre sur les pédales, et avance. Docile, Sarah obéit. La bicyclette grinça, fit un bond en avant, puis vacilla, et Sarah tomba sur l'herbe, riant aux larmes. – Recommence ! cria Jesse. Et elle recommença. Chaque fois, elle avançait un petit peu plus, mais elle perdait l'équilibre dès qu'elle tentait de synchroniser ses mouvements. Dieu que c'était drôle ! Sarah ne s'était jamais tant amusée de sa vie. Elle riait tant qu'il lui était parfois difficile de se remettre en selle. Et puis, tout d'un coup, elle ne tomba plus. Etonnée, elle retint son rire et continua à pédaler à toute vitesse. Elle dévala le sentier qui menait à la route, et s'engagea sur le chemin. Comment faisait-on pour s'arrêter ?

you do the work, it will eventually turn into money!

The sale is closed when you get the order, collect the check, take it to the bank, and the check clears! —DAVID H. SANDLER

Due to the Swedish Barmaid falling off her bike pissed and the boss selling sexual favors in warmer climates, Café Bottoms Up will be closed for the rest of the week.

Later, I sat down drunk on the corner of Carondelet and Canal Streets, listening for the rumble of the streetcar that would take me back uptown to my apartment, watching the evening sun bleed from the streets, the city shifting into night, when it truly became New Orleans: the music, the constant festival, the smell of late evening dinners pouring out, layering the beer-soaked streets, prostitutes, clubs with DJs, rowdy gay bars, dirty strip clubs, the insane out for a walk, college students vomiting in trash cans, daiquiri bars lit up like supermarkets, washing-machine-sized mixers built into the wall spinning every color of daiquiri, lone trumpet players, grown women crying, clawing at men in suits, portrait painters, spangers (spare change beggars), gutter punks with dogs, kids tap-dancing with spinning bike wheels on their heads, the golden cowboy frozen on a milk crate, his golden gun pointed at a child in the crowd, fortune-tellers, psycho preachers, mumblers, fighters, rock-faced college boys out for a date rape, club chicks wearing silver miniskirts, horse-drawn carriages, plastic cups piling against the high curbs of Bourbon Street, jazz music pressing up against rock-and-roll cover bands, murderers, scam artists, hippies selling anything, magic shows and people on unicycles, flying cockroaches the size of pocket rockets, rats without fear, men in drag, business execs wandering drunk in packs, deciding not to tell their wives, sluts sucking dick on open balconies, cops on horseback looking down blouses, cars wading across the river of drunks on Bourbon Street, the people screaming at them, pouring drinks on the hood, putting their asses to the window, whole bars of people laughing, shot girls with test tubes of neon-colored booze, bouncers dragging skinny white boys out by their necks, college girls rubbing each other’s backs after vomiting tequila, T-shirts, drinks sold in a green two-foot tube with a small souvenir grenade in the bottom, people stumbling, tripping, falling, laughing on the sidewalk in the filth, laughing too hard to stand back up, thin rivers of piss leaking out from corners, brides with dirty dresses, men in G-strings, mangy dogs, balloon animals, camcorders, twenty-four-hour 3-4-1, free admission, amateur night, black-eyed strippers, drunk bicyclers, clouds of termites like brown mist surrounding streetlamps, ventriloquists, bikers, people sitting on mailboxes, coffee with chicory, soul singers, the shoeless, the drunks, the blissful, the ignorant, the beaten, the assholes, the cheaters, the douche bags, the comedians, the holy, the broken, the affluent, the beggars, the forgotten, and the soft spring air pregnant with every scent created by such a town.