Introduction — How This Book Was Written—and Why
The research that produced this book began from a simple observation: dealing with people is probably the biggest problem most of us face. Whether you are in business, a housewife, an architect, or an engineer, the fine art of getting along with people in everyday contacts is both the most urgent and the most neglected skill in human life. Adults who needed training in effective speaking, it turned out, needed still more training in the art of human relations.
To find every practical idea anyone had used throughout the ages for winning friends and influencing people, a trained researcher spent a year and a half in various libraries reading everything that could be found—poring over erudite tomes on psychology, hundreds of magazine articles, countless biographies, the writings of old philosophers and new psychologists. The life stories of the great leaders were read, from Julius Caesar to Thomas Edison; more than one hundred biographies of Theodore Roosevelt alone were consulted. No time, no expense was spared.
As Herbert Spencer once said, “the great aim of education is not knowledge but action.” This is an action book.
To get the most from what follows, there is one indispensable requirement—one essential infinitely more important than any rule or technique: a deep, driving desire to learn, a vigorous determination to increase your ability to deal with people. Picture how mastery of these principles will aid you in leading a richer, fuller, happier life. Keep this book on your desk. Review it every month. Apply these rules at every opportunity, because only knowledge that is used sticks in the mind.
You are not merely trying to acquire information. You are attempting to form new habits—a new way of life. That requires time, persistence, and daily application. One practice above all others proves invaluable: a weekly self-analysis. Ask yourself what mistakes you made, what you did right, what you could have improved, and what lessons you can carry forward. Done year after year, this system of self-education—asking at every turn, “What mistakes did I make that time? What did I do that was right? What lessons can I learn from that experience?”—does more for the ability to make decisions and to work with people than almost any other discipline imaginable.
Chapter 1 — “If You Want to Gather Honey, Don’t Kick Over the Beehive”
Lewis Lawes, who served as warden of New York’s infamous Sing Sing prison for many years, once made a striking observation: few of the criminals in Sing Sing regard themselves as bad men. They are just as human as you and I. Most attempt, by some form of reasoning—fallacious or logical—to justify their antisocial acts, even to themselves, and consequently maintain stoutly that they should never have been imprisoned at all. If Al Capone, “Two Gun” Crowley, Dutch Schultz, and the desperate men and women behind prison walls don’t blame themselves for anything—what about the people with whom you and I come in contact every day?
Criticism is futile because it puts a person on the defensive and usually makes him strive to justify himself. Criticism is dangerous, because it wounds a person’s precious pride, hurts his sense of importance, and arouses resentment. Hans Selye, one of the great psychologists of the twentieth century, said, “As much as we thirst for approval, we dread condemnation.” The resentment that criticism engenders can demoralize employees, family members, and friends, and still not correct the situation that has been condemned. Let’s realize that criticisms are like homing pigeons. They always return home. The person we condemn will probably justify herself and condemn us in return.
When dealing with people, let us remember we are not dealing with creatures of logic. We are dealing with creatures of emotion, creatures bristling with prejudices and motivated by pride and vanity. Bitter criticism caused the sensitive Thomas Hardy, one of the finest novelists ever to enrich English literature, to give up forever the writing of fiction. Criticism drove Thomas Chatterton, the English poet, to suicide. Benjamin Franklin, tactless in his youth, became so diplomatic, so adroit at handling people, that he was made American Ambassador to France. The secret of his success? “I will speak ill of no man,” he said, “and speak all the good I know of everybody.” Any fool can criticize, condemn, and complain—and most fools do. But it takes character and self-control to be understanding and forgiving. “A great man shows his greatness,” said Carlyle, “by the way he treats little men.”
The aviator Bob Hoover was returning from an air show when his plane’s engines suddenly failed. Through skillful flying he landed the aircraft safely, though it was badly damaged. The cause: a mechanic had serviced the plane with jet fuel instead of gasoline. When Hoover met the young man, tears were streaming down his face. He had caused the loss of an expensive aircraft and could have cost three people their lives. You can imagine Hoover’s anger. But Hoover didn’t scold the mechanic; he didn’t even criticize him. Instead, he put his big arm around the man’s shoulder and said, “To show you I’m sure that you’ll never do this again, I want you to service my F-51 tomorrow.”
Instead of condemning people, let’s try to understand them. Let’s try to figure out why they do what they do. That’s far more profitable and intriguing than criticism, and it breeds sympathy, tolerance, and kindness. “To know all is to forgive all.” As Dr. Johnson said, “God himself, sir, does not propose to judge man until the end of his days.” Why should you and I?
Chapter 2 — The Big Secret of Dealing with People
There is only one way under high heaven to get anybody to do anything. Just one way. And that is by making the other person want to do it. You can make someone give you his watch by sticking a revolver in his ribs. You can make your employees give you cooperation—until your back is turned—by threatening to fire them. You can make a child do what you want by whip or threat. But these crude methods have sharply undesirable repercussions. The only way to get you to do anything is by giving you what you want.
What is it that most people want? Dr. John Dewey said that the deepest urge in human nature is “the desire to be important.” Remember that phrase. William James put it another way: “The deepest principle in human nature is the craving to be appreciated.” And Lincoln once wrote, with characteristic simplicity, “Everybody likes a compliment.”
It was this desire for a feeling of importance that led an uneducated, poverty-stricken grocery clerk to study some law books he found in the bottom of a barrel of household plunder he had bought for fifty cents. His name was Lincoln. That same desire inspired Charles Dickens to write his immortal novels, inspired Sir Christopher Wren to design his symphonies in stone, and made Rockefeller amass millions that he never spent. It lures many boys and girls into joining gangs and engaging in criminal activity. People sometimes became invalids in order to win sympathy and attention and get a feeling of importance. Mrs. McKinley, for example, got a feeling of importance by forcing her husband, the President of the United States, to neglect important affairs of state while he reclined beside her for hours, his arm about her, soothing her to sleep. She insisted he remain with her while she had her teeth fixed, and once created a stormy scene when he had to leave her with the dentist to keep an appointment with John Hay, his secretary of state.
Charles Schwab was one of the first people in America to be paid a salary of over a million dollars a year. Andrew Carnegie chose him to become the first president of the United States Steel Company not because Schwab knew more about steel than others, but because of his extraordinary ability to deal with people. “I consider my ability to arouse enthusiasm among my people,” Schwab declared, “the greatest asset I possess, and the way to develop the best that is in a person is by appreciation and encouragement. There is nothing else that so kills the ambitions of a person as criticisms from superiors. I never criticize anyone. I believe in giving a person incentive to work. So I am anxious to praise but loath to find fault. If I like anything, I am hearty in my approbation and lavish in my praise.” In his wide association with many great people in various parts of the world, Schwab had yet to find the person, however great or exalted his station, who did not do better work and put forth greater effort under a spirit of approval than under a spirit of criticism.
When a study was made of runaway wives, what was discovered to be the main reason? “Lack of appreciation.” A similar study of runaway husbands would likely find the same thing. We take our spouses so much for granted that we never let them know we appreciate them. One husband, asked by his wife to list six things he believed she could do to become a better wife, called the florist instead: he sent six red roses with a note saying, “I can’t think of six things I would like to change about you. I love you the way you are.” When he arrived home that evening, she greeted him in tears. Several women from her study group said afterward, “That was the most considerate thing I have ever heard.” It was then he realized the power of appreciation.
People sometimes go six days, and six weeks, and sometimes sixty years without giving those around them the hearty appreciation they crave almost as much as they crave food. Flattery will do you more harm than good—it is counterfeit, and like counterfeit money, it will eventually get you into trouble. The difference between appreciation and flattery is simple: one is sincere and the other insincere. One comes from the heart out; the other comes from the teeth out. One is unselfish; the other selfish. One is universally admired; the other universally condemned. The next time you enjoy a magnificent meal at a restaurant, send word to the chef that it was excellently prepared; when a tired salesperson shows you unusual courtesy, mention it. These small acts cost nothing, and yet they are among the greatest gifts we can give.
Chapter 3 — “He Who Can Do This Has the Whole World with Him. He Who Cannot Walks a Lonely Way”
I often went fishing up in Maine during the summer. Personally I am very fond of strawberries and cream, but I have found that for some strange reason, fish prefer worms. So when I went fishing, I didn’t think about what I wanted. I thought about what they wanted. I didn’t bait the hook with strawberries and cream. Rather, I dangled a worm or a grasshopper in front of the fish. Why not use the same common sense when fishing for people?
The only way on earth to influence other people is to talk about what they want and show them how to get it. If you don’t want your children to smoke, don’t preach at them about what you want; show them that cigarettes may keep them from making the basketball team or winning the hundred-yard dash. Action springs out of what we fundamentally desire, and the best piece of advice that can be given to would-be persuaders—whether in business, in the home, in the school, or in politics—is this: first, arouse in the other person an eager want. He who can do this has the whole world with him. He who cannot walks a lonely way.
”If there is any one secret of success,” said Henry Ford, “it lies in the ability to get the other person’s point of view and see things from that person’s angle as well as from your own.” Thousands of salespeople are pounding the pavements today, tired, discouraged, and underpaid, because they are always thinking only of what they want. Neither you nor I want to buy anything. If we did, we would go out and buy it. But both of us are eternally interested in solving our problems. If salespeople can show us how their services or merchandise will help us solve our problems, they won’t need to sell us—we’ll buy. And customers like to feel that they are buying, not being sold.
Chapter 4 — Do This and You’ll Be Welcome Anywhere
Did you ever stop to think that a dog is the only animal that doesn’t have to work for a living? A hen has to lay eggs, a cow has to give milk, and a canary has to sing. But a dog makes his living by giving you nothing but love. You can make more friends in two months by becoming genuinely interested in other people than you can in two years by trying to get other people interested in you. As the Roman poet Publilius Syrus observed centuries ago, “We are interested in others when they are interested in us.” Become genuinely interested in other people—not as a technique, but as a habit of the heart.
Chapter 5 — A Simple Way to Make a Good First Impression
The employment manager of a large New York department store told me she would rather hire a sales clerk who hadn’t finished grade school, if he or she had a pleasant smile, than to hire a doctor of philosophy with a somber face. Research confirms that people who smile tend to manage, teach, and sell more effectively, and to raise happier children.
You don’t feel like smiling? Then force yourself to. If you are alone, force yourself to whistle or hum a tune or sing. Act as if you were already happy, and that will tend to make you happy. The psychologist and philosopher William James put it this way: “Action seems to follow feeling, but really action and feeling go together; and by regulating the action, which is under the more direct control of the will, we can indirectly regulate the feeling, which is not.” The sovereign voluntary path to cheerfulness, if our cheerfulness be lost, is to sit up cheerfully and to act and speak as if cheerfulness were already there.
Happiness doesn’t depend on outward conditions. It depends on inner conditions. It isn’t what you have or who you are or where you are or what you are doing that makes you happy or unhappy—it is what you think about it. Two people may be in the same place, doing the same thing, with about an equal amount of money and prestige, and yet one may be miserable and the other happy. Why? Because of a different mental attitude. One man described his transformation this way: “I have eliminated criticism from my system. I give appreciation and praise now instead of condemnation. I have stopped talking about what I want. I am trying to see the other person’s viewpoint. And these things have literally revolutionized my life. I am a totally different man, a happier man, a richer man—richer in friendships and happiness, the only things that matter much after all.” Nobody needs a smile so much as those who have none left to give.
Chapter 6 — If You Don’t Do This, You Are Headed for Trouble
Jim Farley discovered early in life that the average person is more interested in his or her own name than in all the other names on earth put together. During his years as a salesman for a gypsum concern and later as town clerk in Stony Point, Farley built up a system for remembering names. Whenever he met a new acquaintance, he found out his or her complete name and some facts about family, business, and political opinions. He fixed all these facts well in mind as part of the picture, and the next time he met that person—even if it was a year later—he was able to shake hands, inquire after the family, and ask about the hollyhocks in the backyard. Remember a name and call it easily, and you have paid a subtle and very effective compliment. Forget it or misspell it, and you have placed yourself at a sharp disadvantage.
Andrew Carnegie understood this instinctively. When he was a boy back in Scotland, he got hold of a rabbit—a mother rabbit—and soon had a whole nest of little rabbits and nothing to feed them. He told the boys and girls in the neighborhood that if they would go out and pull enough clover and dandelions to feed the rabbits, he would name the bunnies in their honor. The plan worked like magic, and Carnegie never forgot it. Years later, he made millions using the same psychology in business. When he wanted to sell steel rails to the Pennsylvania Railroad, whose president was J. Edgar Thomson, Carnegie built a huge steel mill in Pittsburgh and called it the Edgar Thomson Steel Works. When the Pennsylvania Railroad needed steel rails, where do you suppose Thomson bought them?
Later, when Carnegie and George Pullman were both battling for supremacy in the sleeping-car business, negotiations reached the point of a possible merger. Pullman finally asked, “What would you call the new company?” and Carnegie replied promptly, “Why, the Pullman Palace Car Company, of course.” Pullman’s face brightened. “Come into my room,” he said. “Let’s talk it over.” That talk made industrial history. Carnegie was proud of the fact that he could call many of his factory workers by their first names, and he boasted that while he was personally in charge, no strike ever disturbed his flaming steel mills. For many centuries, nobles and magnates supported artists, musicians, and authors so that their creative works would be dedicated to them. Libraries and museums owe their richest collections to people who cannot bear to think that their names might perish from the memory of the race.
Franklin D. Roosevelt knew that one of the simplest and most powerful ways of gaining goodwill was to remember names. He took the trouble to repeat the name of everyone he met several times during a conversation and tried to associate it in his mind with the person’s features, expression, and general appearance. If he didn’t hear a name distinctly, he said, “So sorry. I didn’t get the name clearly,” and if it was an unusual name, he would ask how it was spelled. Most people don’t remember names for the simple reason that they don’t take the time and energy to concentrate and repeat them. They make excuses—they are too busy. But they were probably no busier than Franklin D. Roosevelt, and he took time to remember even the names of mechanics with whom he came into contact. The executive who tells me he can’t remember names is at the same time telling me he can’t remember a significant part of his business and is operating on quicksand.
Chapter 7 — An Easy Way to Become a Good Conversationalist
A young boy named Robert once told his mother, “I know that you love me very much.” When she asked how he could be so sure, he replied, “Because whenever I want to talk to you about something you stop whatever you are doing and listen to me.” To be a good conversationalist, be an attentive listener. To be interesting, be interested. Ask questions that other persons will enjoy answering. Encourage them to talk about themselves and their accomplishments. Remember that the people you are talking to are a hundred times more interested in themselves and their wants and their problems than they are in you and your problems. Be a good listener, and encourage others to talk about themselves.
Chapter 8 — How to Interest People
Whenever Theodore Roosevelt expected a visitor, he sat up late the night before, reading up on the subject in which he knew his guest was particularly interested. For Roosevelt knew, as all leaders know, that the royal road to a person’s heart is to talk about the things he or she treasures most. Whether his visitor was a cowboy or a Rough Rider, a New York politician or a diplomat, Roosevelt knew what to say—because he had taken the trouble to find out beforehand. Talk in terms of the other person’s interests.
Chapter 9 — How to Make People Like You Instantly
You want the approval of those with whom you come in contact. You want recognition of your true worth. You want a feeling that you are important in your little world. You don’t want to listen to cheap, insincere flattery, but you do crave sincere appreciation. The unvarnished truth is that almost all the people you meet feel themselves superior to you in some way, and a sure way to their hearts is to let them realize, in some subtle way, that you recognize their importance—and recognize it sincerely.
Little phrases such as “I’m sorry to trouble you,” “Would you be so kind as to—?” “Won’t you please?” “Would you mind?” and “Thank you” oil the cogs of the monotonous grind of everyday life, and they are the hallmark of good breeding. As Jesus himself said, “Do unto others as you would have others do unto you.” Make the other person feel important—and do it sincerely.
Chapter 10 — You Can’t Win an Argument
There is only one way under high heaven to get the best of an argument—and that is to avoid it. Nine times out of ten, an argument ends with each of the contestants more firmly convinced than ever that he is absolutely right. You cannot win an argument. If you lose it, you lose it; and if you win it, you still lose it. Why? Suppose you triumph over the other man and shoot his argument full of holes. Then what? You will feel fine. But what about him? You have made him feel inferior. You have hurt his pride. He will resent your triumph.
As wise old Ben Franklin used to say: if you argue and rankle and contradict, you may achieve a victory sometimes; but it will be an empty victory because you will never get your opponent’s good will. Which would you rather have—an academic, theatrical victory or a person’s good will? You can seldom have both. Buddha said, “Hatred is never ended by hatred but by love,” and a misunderstanding is never ended by an argument but by tact, diplomacy, conciliation, and a sympathetic desire to see the other person’s viewpoint.
When you find yourself in a disagreement, control your temper. Listen first, and listen well, until the other person has finished. Look for areas of agreement, and dwell on those first. Be honest—look for areas where you can admit error and say so. Apologize for your mistakes. It will help disarm your opponents and reduce defensiveness. Recognize that your opponents may be sincerely wrong, not malicious, and deserve patience and courtesy. Give the other person a chance to be heard, because people who feel they cannot get a fair hearing become obstinate and unyielding. The only way to get the best of an argument is to avoid it.
Chapter 11 — A Sure Way of Making Enemies—and How to Avoid It
If you can be sure of being right only fifty-five percent of the time, you can go down to Wall Street and make a million dollars a day. If you can’t be that certain, why tell other people they are wrong? You can tell people they are wrong by a look or an intonation or a gesture just as eloquently as you can in words, and if you tell them they are wrong, do you make them want to agree with you? Never. You have struck a direct blow at their intelligence, judgment, pride, and self-respect. That will make them want to strike back, but it will never make them want to change their minds. You may hurl at them all the logic of a Plato or an Immanuel Kant, but you will not alter their opinions, for you have hurt their feelings.
We sometimes find ourselves changing our minds without any resistance or heavy emotion. But if we are told we are wrong, we resent the imputation and harden our hearts. We are incredibly heedless in the formation of our beliefs, but find ourselves filled with an illicit passion for them when anyone proposes to rob us of their companionship. It is obviously not the ideas themselves that are dear to us, but our self-esteem which is threatened. The little word “my” is the most important word in human affairs—“my” dinner, “my” dog, “my” house, “my” father, “my” country, “my” God. We like to continue to believe what we have been accustomed to accept as true, and the resentment aroused when doubt is cast upon any of our assumptions leads us to seek every manner of excuse for clinging to it. Most of our so-called reasoning consists in finding arguments for going on believing as we already do.
When we are wrong, we may admit it to ourselves. And if we are handled gently and tactfully, we may admit it to others and even take pride in our frankness and broad-mindedness. But not if someone else is trying to ram the unpalatable fact down our throat. Benjamin Franklin, who came to understand this deeply, wrote in his autobiography that whenever he met someone who asserted something he thought an error, he denied himself the pleasure of contradicting him abruptly. Instead he would begin by observing that in certain cases or circumstances the other person’s opinion would be right, but that in the present case there appeared to be some difference. That small change in approach accomplished more than all the sharp counter-argument in the world. Two thousand years ago, Jesus said, “Agree with thine adversary quickly.” It is still sound counsel. Show respect for the other person’s opinions. Never say, “You’re wrong.”
Chapter 12 — If You’re Wrong, Admit It
When you are clearly in the wrong, admit it quickly and emphatically. That policeman, being human, wanted a feeling of importance; so when you begin to condemn yourself, the only way he can nourish his self-esteem is to take the magnanimous attitude of showing mercy. Beat the other person to it. Say about yourself all the disparaging things you know the other person is thinking or wants to say—and say them before he has a chance. The chances are a hundred to one that a generous, forgiving attitude will be taken, and your mistakes will be minimized. There is a certain satisfaction in having the courage to admit one’s errors. It not only clears the air of guilt and defensiveness, it often helps solve the very problem the error created.
Chapter 13 — A Drop of Honey
It is an old and true maxim that a drop of honey catches more flies than a gallon of gall. So with men: if you would win a man to your cause, first convince him that you are his sincere friend. Therein is a drop of honey that catches his heart, which, say what you will, is the great high road to his reason. Lincoln understood this, and so do all great leaders who have ever moved people. Before any correction or request, begin in a friendly way—and the heart opens where it would otherwise have stayed shut.
Chapter 14 — The Secret of Socrates
In talking with people, don’t begin by discussing the things on which you differ. Begin by emphasizing—and keep on emphasizing—the things on which you agree. Keep emphasizing, if possible, that you are both striving for the same end and that your only difference is one of method and not of purpose.
Socrates, “the gadfly of Athens,” was one of the greatest philosophers the world has ever produced. He did something that only a handful of men in all history have been able to do: he sharply changed the whole course of human thought, and twenty-four centuries after his death he is honored as one of the wisest persuaders who ever influenced this wrangling world. His whole technique—now called the Socratic method—was based upon getting a “yes, yes” response. He asked questions with which his opponent would have to agree. He kept winning one admission after another until he had an armful of yeses. He kept on asking questions until finally, almost without realizing it, his opponents found themselves embracing a conclusion they would have bitterly denied a few minutes before. Get the other person saying “yes, yes” immediately. Don’t give him an opportunity to say “no.” The psychological momentum of a positive answer carries forward, and it often carries a man far from where he thought he was going.
Chapter 15 — The Safety Valve in Handling Complaints
Most people trying to win others to their way of thinking do too much talking themselves. Let the other person do a great deal of the talking. Let them finish—do not interrupt. Be patient with them. La Rochefoucauld, the French philosopher, said, “If you want enemies, excel your friends; but if you want friends, let your friends excel you.” When someone wants to tell you about his accomplishments, listen with interest and enthusiasm. Don’t try to trump his story with one of your own. He will value your acquaintance far more than if you had spent the hour talking about yourself. Ask questions. Listen. And hold your own story for another day.
Chapter 16 — How to Get Cooperation
Don’t you have much more faith in ideas that you discover for yourself than in ideas that are handed to you on a silver platter? If so, isn’t it bad judgment to try to ram your opinions down the throats of other people? Isn’t it wiser to make suggestions—and let the other person think out the conclusion? One salesman named Wesson had called on a furniture buyer for years without ever making a sale. He studied human relations and tried a new approach. “I asked him to give me his ideas,” Wesson explained. “This made him feel that he was creating the designs. And he was. I didn’t have to sell him. He bought.”
A hospital was building an addition and preparing to equip the finest X-ray department in America. One equipment manufacturer, more skillful than the rest, wrote the physician in charge a letter explaining that his factory had just completed a new line of equipment. The machines were not perfect—the company knew that—and they would be deeply obligated if the doctor could find time to look them over and give his ideas about how they could be made more serviceable to the profession. The physician, who had never had a manufacturer seek his advice before, canceled a dinner appointment to examine the equipment. The more he studied it, the more he discovered how much he liked it. Nobody had tried to sell it to him. He felt that the idea of buying it was his own. He sold himself on its superior qualities and ordered it installed.
Edward House, the intimate personal adviser of Woodrow Wilson, had learned that the best way to convert the President to an idea was to plant it in his mind casually—to interest him in it so that he got thinking about it on his own account. At a White House dinner, House was amazed to hear Wilson trot out a suggestion as his own—one House had quietly placed weeks before. Did House interrupt and say, “That’s not your idea. That’s mine”? Not House. He was too adroit for that. He didn’t care about credit. He wanted results. So he let Wilson continue to feel that the idea was his, and he gave Wilson public credit for the idea as well. Let the other person feel that the idea is his or hers—and watch what happens.
Chapter 17 — A Formula That Will Work Wonders for You
Other people may be totally wrong, but they don’t think so. Don’t condemn them. Try to understand them. Only wise, tolerant, exceptional people even attempt to do that. There is a reason for the way every person thinks and acts, and if you can find that reason, you hold the key to understanding—and perhaps to persuading—them.
Stop for a minute to contrast your keen interest in your own affairs with your mild concern about anything else. Realize, then, that everybody else in the world feels exactly the same way. Along with Lincoln and Roosevelt, you will have grasped the only solid foundation for interpersonal relationships: success in dealing with people depends on a sympathetic grasp of the other person’s viewpoint. Cooperativeness in conversation is achieved when you show that you consider the other person’s ideas and feelings as important as your own. Start your conversation by giving the other person the purpose or direction of your exchange. Govern what you say by what you would want to hear if you were the listener, and accept his or her viewpoint as the legitimate starting point. That single habit will encourage an open mind to your ideas more surely than any argument you could mount.
Chapter 18 — What Everybody Wants
Wouldn’t you like to have a magic phrase that would stop arguments, eliminate ill feeling, create good will, and make the other person listen attentively? Here it is: “I don’t blame you one iota for feeling as you do. If I were you I would undoubtedly feel just as you do.” An answer like that will soften the most cantankerous old cuss alive. And you can say it and be one hundred percent sincere, because if you were the other person you would, of course, feel as he does. Take Al Capone, for example. Suppose you had inherited the same body, temperament, and mind that Capone had. Suppose you had had his environment and experiences. You would then be precisely what he was, and where he was, for it is those things—and only those things—that made him what he was.
The next time you meet someone who is hostile or angry, try saying inwardly: “I would feel exactly the same if I were in his shoes.” Three-fourths of the people you will ever meet are hungering and thirsting for sympathy. Give it to them, and they will love you. Be sympathetic with the other person’s ideas and desires.
Chapter 19 — An Appeal That Everybody Likes
Everyone likes to think well of themselves. They like to be fine and unselfish in their own estimation. So, in order to change people, appeal to the nobler motives. A man who had a delinquent tenant threatening to move came very close to demanding the full balance owed and threatening legal action. Instead he said, “Mr. Doe, I have listened to your story, and I still don’t believe you intend to move. Years in the renting business have taught me something about human nature, and I sized you up in the first place as being a man of your word. I’m so sure of it that I’m willing to take a gamble.” He gave the tenant a few days to think it over and trust himself to do the right thing. When the month came around, the tenant paid in person and decided to stay. He had concluded that the only honorable thing to do was to live up to his contract.
J. P. Morgan once observed that a person usually has two reasons for doing a thing—one that sounds good and the real one. The person himself will think of the real reason; you don’t need to emphasize that. But everybody is idealistic at heart and likes to think of his motives as noble. So appeal to those nobler motives. The editor who persuaded even Louisa May Alcott, the immortal author of Little Women, to write for him at the height of her fame did it by offering to send a check for a hundred dollars, not to her, but to her favorite charity. He appealed not to her desire for money, but to her generosity. Appeal to the nobler motives.
Chapter 20 — The Movies Do It. TV Does It. Why Don’t You Do It?
This is the day of dramatization. Merely stating a truth isn’t enough. The truth has to be made vivid, interesting, dramatic. You have to use showmanship. The movies do it. Television does it. And you will have to do it if you want attention. A sales representative named Boynton had spent meetings trying to persuade a food manufacturer’s executive, presenting careful tabulations of figures and data, always being sidetracked into futile arguments. He won points to his own satisfaction, but his time would run out and he still hadn’t produced results. The second time, he changed his approach entirely. He walked into the office carrying a suitcase and, while the executive was still on the phone, opened it and dumped thirty-two jars of cold cream on top of his desk—all competitors’ products, all products the executive knew. On each jar was a tag itemizing the results of a trade investigation, each one telling its story briefly and dramatically. There was no longer an argument. The executive picked up one jar after another and read the tags. A friendly conversation developed. He asked questions. He was intensely interested. He had originally given Boynton only ten minutes; an hour later they were still talking. The same facts—but this time with dramatization and showmanship. Dramatize your ideas.
Chapter 21 — When Nothing Else Works, Try This
Charles Schwab had a mill manager whose people weren’t producing their quota. “How is it,” Schwab asked him, “that a manager as capable as you can’t make this mill turn out what it should?” “I don’t know,” the manager replied. “I’ve coaxed the men, I’ve pushed them, I’ve sworn and cussed, I’ve threatened them with damnation and being fired. But nothing works. They just won’t produce.” The conversation took place at the end of the day, just before the night shift came on. Schwab asked for a piece of chalk, then turned to the nearest worker and asked how many heats his shift had made that day. “Six.” Without another word, Schwab chalked a big figure six on the floor and walked away. When the night shift came in, they saw the “6” and asked what it meant. The day workers told them. The next morning, Schwab walked through again. The night shift had rubbed out “6” and written “7.” When the day shift reported for work and saw a big “7” chalked on the floor, they pitched in with enthusiasm, and when they quit that night they left behind them a swaggering “10.” Shortly, this mill, which had been lagging way behind, was turning out more work than any other mill in the plant. “The way to get things done,” said Schwab, “is to stimulate competition—not in a sordid, money-getting way, but in the desire to excel.”
Lewis Lawes became the most famous warden of his time after a visitor named Smith challenged him with this: “Young fellow, I don’t blame you for being scared. It’s a tough spot. It’ll take a big person to go up there and stay.” Lawes liked the idea of attempting a job that called for someone “big.” So he went, and he stayed. Frederic Herzberg, one of the great behavioral scientists, studied in depth the work attitudes of thousands of people ranging from factory workers to senior executives, and found that the one major factor that most consistently motivated people was the work itself—not money, not working conditions, not fringe benefits. The work itself, when it was exciting and interesting. That is what every successful person loves: the game. The chance for self-expression. The chance to prove his or her worth, to excel, to win. The desire to excel. The desire for a feeling of importance. Throw down a challenge.
Chapter 22 — If You Must Find Fault, This Is the Way to Begin
A barber lathers a man before he shaves him. Beginning with praise is like the dentist who begins his work with Novocain. The patient still gets a drilling, but the Novocain is pain-killing. It is always easier to listen to unpleasant things after we have heard some praise of our good points. Begin with praise and honest appreciation before you deliver any criticism—and the message lands far differently than it otherwise would.
Chapter 23 — How to Criticize—and Not Be Hated for It
Charles Schwab was passing through one of his steel mills one day at noon when he came across some employees smoking immediately below a sign that read “No Smoking.” Did Schwab point to the sign and say, “Can’t you read?” Not Schwab. He walked over to the men, handed each one a cigar, and said, “I’ll appreciate it, boys, if you will smoke these on the outside.” They knew that he knew they had broken a rule, and they admired him because he said nothing about it and gave them a little present and made them feel important. That is calling attention to a mistake indirectly.
The same principle applies when praising a child’s improvement. We might say, “We’re really proud of you, Johnnie, for raising your grades this term. But if you had worked harder on your algebra, the results would have been better.” Johnnie might feel encouraged until he heard the word “but,” at which point he would question the sincerity of the original praise—it seemed only a contrived lead-in to a critical inference of failure. Change the word “but” to “and”: “We’re really proud of you, Johnnie, for raising your grades this term, and by continuing the same conscientious efforts next term, your algebra grade can be up with all the others.” Now Johnnie accepts the praise because there is no follow-up inference of failure. His attention has been called to the behavior you wished to change indirectly, and the chances are he will try to live up to your expectations.
Marge Jacob of Woonsocket, Rhode Island, convinced some sloppy construction workers to clean up after themselves without ever saying a word of direct criticism. When she returned from work each day and found the yard strewn with cut ends of lumber, she and her children quietly picked it all up and piled it in a corner. The following morning she called the foreman aside and said, “I’m really pleased with the way the front lawn was left last night; it is nice and clean and does not offend the neighbors.” From that day forward the workers picked up and piled the debris to one side, and the foreman came in each day seeking approval of the condition of the lawn.
When the eloquent Henry Ward Beecher died on March 8, 1887, Lyman Abbott was invited to speak in the pulpit left silent by Beecher’s passing. Abbott wrote, rewrote, and polished his sermon with the meticulous care of a Flaubert, then read it to his wife. It was poor, as most written speeches are. She might have said so directly, and you know what would have happened. Instead, she merely remarked that it would make an excellent article for the North American Review. In other words, she praised it and at the same time subtly suggested that it wouldn’t do as a speech. Abbott saw the point, tore up his carefully prepared manuscript, and preached without even using notes. That is the art of calling attention to a mistake so indirectly that the other person corrects it himself.
Chapter 24 — Talk About Your Own Mistakes First
It isn’t nearly so difficult to listen to a recital of your faults if the person criticizing begins by humbly admitting that he, too, is far from impeccable. When calling an assistant named Josephine’s attention to a mistake, the approach that works is this: “You have made a mistake, Josephine, but the Lord knows, it’s no worse than many I have made. You were not born with judgment. That comes only with experience, and you are better than I was at your age. I have been guilty of so many stupid, silly things myself that I have very little inclination to criticize you or anyone. But don’t you think it would have been wiser if you had done so and so?” If a few sentences humbling oneself and praising the other party can turn a haughty, insulted Kaiser into a staunch friend, imagine what humility and praise can do in our daily contacts. Rightfully used, they will work veritable miracles in human relations.
Clarence Zerhusen of Timonium, Maryland, illustrated this when he discovered his fifteen-year-old son David was experimenting with cigarettes. Rather than exhorting him to stop or making threats, Zerhusen explained how he himself had started smoking at about the same age, how the nicotine had gotten the best of him and now it was nearly impossible to stop. He reminded David how irritating his cough was and how David had been after him to give up cigarettes not many years before. “All I did was point out how I was hooked on cigarettes and what it had meant to me.” David thought about it and decided he wouldn’t smoke until he had graduated from high school. As the years went by, David never did start smoking and has no intention of ever doing so. Talk about your own mistakes before criticizing the other person.
Chapter 25 — No One Likes to Take Orders
Owen Young, one of the great business leaders of his era, never said, “Do this or do that,” or “Don’t do this or don’t do that.” He would say, “You might consider this,” or “Do you think that would work?” Frequently, after dictating a letter, he would ask, “What do you think of this?” In looking over a letter of one of his assistants, he would say, “Maybe if we were to phrase it this way it would be better.” He always gave people the opportunity to do things themselves; he never told his assistants to do things; he let them do them, let them learn from their mistakes. A technique like that makes it easy for a person to correct errors. It saves a person’s pride and gives him or her a feeling of importance. It encourages cooperation instead of rebellion.
Asking questions not only makes an order more palatable; it often stimulates the creativity of the persons whom you ask. People are more likely to accept an order if they have had a part in the decision that caused the order to be issued. Ask questions instead of giving direct orders.
Chapter 26 — Let the Other Person Save Face
Years ago the General Electric Company was faced with the delicate task of removing Charles Steinmetz from the head of a department. Steinmetz, a genius of the first magnitude when it came to electricity, was a failure as head of the calculating department. Yet the company didn’t dare offend the man. He was indispensable and highly sensitive. So they gave him a new title. They made him Consulting Engineer of the General Electric Company—a new title for work he was already doing—and let someone else head up the department. Steinmetz was happy. So were the officers of G.E. They had gently maneuvered their most temperamental star without a storm, by letting him save face.
The legendary French aviation pioneer and author Antoine de Saint-Exupéry wrote: “I have no right to say or do anything that diminishes a man in his own eyes. What matters is not what I think of him, but what he thinks of himself. Hurting a man in his dignity is a crime.” Even if we are right and the other person is definitely wrong, we only destroy ego by causing someone to lose face. Let the other person save face.
Chapter 27 — How to Spur People On to Success
”Praise is like sunlight to the warm human spirit; we cannot flower and grow without it. And yet, while most of us are only too ready to apply to others the cold wind of criticism, we are somehow reluctant to give our fellow the warm sunshine of praise.” What Mr. Roper did was not just flatter a young printer and say “You’re good.” He specifically pointed out how his work was superior. Because he had singled out a specific accomplishment rather than making general flattering remarks, his praise became much more meaningful. Everybody likes to be praised, but when praise is specific, it comes across as sincere—not something the other person is saying just to make you feel good. Remember, we all crave appreciation and recognition and will do almost anything to get it—but nobody wants insincerity. Nobody wants flattery. Praise the slightest improvement and praise every improvement. Be hearty in your approbation and lavish in your praise.
Chapter 28 — Give a Dog a Good Name
”The average person,” said Samuel Vauclain, then president of the Baldwin Locomotive Works, “can be led readily if you have his or her respect and if you show that you respect that person for some kind of ability.” If you want to improve a person in a certain respect, act as though that particular trait were already one of his or her outstanding characteristics. Give them a fine reputation to live up to, and they will make prodigious efforts rather than see you disillusioned.
Dr. Martin Fitzhugh, a dentist in Dublin, Ireland, discovered this one morning when a patient pointed out that his metal cup holder was not very clean. After the patient left, Dr. Fitzhugh wrote a note to Bridgit, the charwoman who came twice a week to clean: “My dear Bridgit, I see you so seldom, I thought I’d take the time to thank you for the fine job of cleaning you’ve been doing. By the way, I thought I’d mention that since two hours, twice a week, is a very limited amount of time, please feel free to work an extra half hour from time to time if you feel you need to do those ‘once-in-a-while’ things like polishing the cup holders and the like. I, of course, will pay you for the extra time.” The next day, Dr. Fitzhugh walked in to find his desk polished to a mirror finish and the shiniest, cleanest chrome-plated cup holder he had ever seen. He had given his charwoman a fine reputation to live up to, and because of that small gesture she outperformed all her past efforts—without any additional time at all. Give the other person a fine reputation to live up to.
Chapter 29 — Make the Fault Seem Easy to Correct
Tell your child, your spouse, or your employee that he or she is stupid or dumb at a certain thing, has no gift for it, and is doing it all wrong, and you have destroyed almost every incentive to try to improve. But use the opposite technique—be liberal with your encouragement, make the thing seem easy to do, let the other person know that you have faith in his ability to do it, that he has an undeveloped flair for it—and he will practice until the dawn comes in the window in order to excel. One dance instructor told a student she had a natural sense of rhythm. That student later said, “At any rate, I know I am a better dancer than I would have been if she hadn’t told me that. That encouraged me. That gave me hope. That made me want to improve.” One man was coaxed into learning bridge with the assurance that it was “right up his alley” because of his talent for memory and judgment. “Almost before I realized what I was doing,” he wrote, “I found myself for the first time at a bridge table. All because I was told I had a natural flair for it and the game was made to seem easy.” Use encouragement. Make the fault seem easy to correct.
Chapter 30 — Making People Glad to Do What You Want
Colonel House, Woodrow Wilson’s intimate adviser, practically told Secretary of State William Jennings Bryan that he was too important for the job of peace emissary to Europe—he said the President thought it would be unwise for anyone to go officially, and that Bryan’s going would attract too much attention. Bryan was satisfied. House had followed one of the most important rules of human relations: always make the other person happy about doing the thing you suggest.
A father named Schmidt had an employee who repeatedly neglected to put price tags on merchandise despite repeated reminders and confrontations. Finally Schmidt called her into his office and told her he was appointing her Supervisor of Price Tag Posting for the entire store, responsible for keeping all the shelves properly tagged. This new responsibility and title changed her attitude completely, and she fulfilled her duties satisfactorily from then on. A boy named Jeff who refused to pick up pears from under the pear tree was motivated by a dollar-per-bushel-basket deal with a dollar forfeited for every pear left behind—he not only picked them all up but had to be watched to make sure he didn’t pull a few off the trees to fill the baskets faster. That is the power of making a request feel like an honor or a game.
To make people glad to do what you suggest, be sincere and do not promise anything you cannot deliver; know exactly what you want the other person to do; be empathetic and ask yourself what the other person really wants; consider the benefits they will receive from doing what you suggest; match those benefits to their wants; and when you make your request, put it in a form that conveys that they personally will benefit. We could give a curt order: “John, sweep out the stockroom, put the stock in neat piles on the shelves, and polish the counter.” Or we could show John the benefits: “John, I am bringing some customers in tomorrow to show our facilities. If you could sweep it out, put the stock in neat piles on the shelves, and polish the counter, it would make us look efficient and you will have done your part to provide a good company image.” John probably won’t be overjoyed—but he’ll be happier than if you had not pointed out the benefits. It is naïve to believe you will always get a favorable reaction when you use these approaches, but the experience of most people shows that you are more likely to change attitudes this way than otherwise—and if you increase your successes by even a mere ten percent, you have become ten percent more effective as a leader than you were before.