He was middle aged, but slim and smartly dressed, maybe late forties. He was in a grey suit, expensive, with a neutral tie. He had on stylish brown wing-tip shoes and incongruously colorful socks.
We were in a suburban bank. It was closed early for the day. There were folding tables placed strategically throughout the open lobby and main work area of the bank. They had white tablecloths and short plastic cups in stacks on top alongside stacks of napkins; some had drink coolers underneath.
He had approached me as soon as I entered the still sparsely populated room. Apparently I was early. I was early for an open house networking event hosted by my local chamber of commerce. I had been invited by a member who I met recently.
I reluctantly accepted the invitation; more out of sheer curiosity than real interest. I was extremely surprised that there was such a large and vibrant chamber of commerce so near to my home.
He talked about what he did. He was a banker. He began by mentioning his current employer and then rattled off a short litany of other banks he had worked for during his career — not too many to seem like a job hopper, but enough of them to seem widely experienced in his field.
Then he asked me what I do… For a moment, the question took me by surprise despite the fact that there are few more predictable or ordinary questions asked at such an event.
I replied, “I believe in helping business leaders build high trust teams that focus exclusively on results.”
This was followed by an awkward silence, then a blank stare. I waited. I was curious how he would respond.
He seemed to be at a loss, so I continued, “I believe that all organizations require two things to succeed: smart people and healthy relationships between those smart people.
“I help business leaders with the healthy relationships part.”
He leaned in and admitted that he had never heard of anyone who did that before. He was earnestly curious about how I went about achieving that outcome for my clients. We talked about it for a few more minutes.
Then I asked him why he was a banker. He looked at me awkwardly again for a moment and then broke out in a slightly nervous and conspiratorial laugh, like I had cracked an insider’s joke that had taken him a moment too long to get the punch line of.
“No, really,” I said, “why are you in banking?” Hoping that rephrasing the question in less personal terms might help, I asked, “Why does the bank you work for exist?”
He looked at me questioningly, as if trying to discern if I was really serious or just pulling his leg. After a moment he just blurted out, “Well, to make money of course!” as if I had asked him something as obvious as what color tie he was wearing.
I tried to clarify: “I understand that making money would be the way you measure how successfully you’re fulfilling your personal or professional purpose, but making money isn’t why you’re a banker and it’s not why the bank exists.”
My statement seemed to unnerve him. Now he seemed to be getting a little defensive: “Money is the reason why everyone is in business. There’s not a business in existence that doesn’t exist to make a profit. That’s what business is. If not, we wouldn’t do it.”
“Do you own the bank?” I asked.
“No” was his reply.
“Do you enjoy your job?”
“Sure,” he admitted honestly.
“So you enjoy getting out of bed and making the owners of the bank more and more money every day?”
“I wouldn’t put it like that…” he replied. “I love taking care of my customers, solving their problems, advising them on their financial strategies and decisions, being a trusted and valuable resource for them when they need me.”
“Are you good at what you do?” I asked.
“I would say so,” he replied.
“Are the owners of the bank happy with the amount of money you bring into the bank?”
“Yes,” he replied honestly and little bashfully. “I get high performer awards from corporate all the time.”
“Why is that, do you think?” I asked.
He responded without hesitation, “Because I love what I do!”
“You mean making money for your owners?” I asked.
“No, of course not. I love taking care of my customers.”
“So you do have a purpose that drives what you do and how you do it, a purpose that has nothing do to with making money– taking care of your customers — even though your owners measure how good you are at doing it by your financial results.”
Then his face lit up and he seemed to understand.
Just then a young man strolled up and hesitated as if asking tacit permission to join in on our conversation.
I gave the banker a wink and he turned to the young man who had just introduced himself and asked him: “So, why do you do what you do?”
For me, this story shows that when we start by telling others WHAT we do, we immediately and unintentionally shut down both curiosity and connection.
Why? People do not care what we do. The only reason we share the WHAT at a networking event is to see if the other person is a good “prospect.”
This means we are approaching the other not as a person but as a potential opportunity. When anyone senses that kind of approach, the instinct is to shut down.
But when we start by sharing WHY we do what we do, the deeply held beliefs that fuel everything we do, it is powerful.
Sharing our WHY is an expression of vulnerability, which is the only way human beings build trust with each other.
When I open my heart and share who I truly am with no guarantee of the other person’s agreement or position on what I have shared, I open myself up without any preconceived outcome. The other could agree with me or look at me like I am some kind of freak.
This openness builds instant trust and most of the time incites real curiosity, which leads to deeply authentic conversations and connections.
A sales coach of mine always reminded me: “If you want to be treated differently (as a salesperson) then you have to act differently.” Start with sharing your WHY and experience how powerful true networking can be.
