Sizzle, not the Steak

I used to work at sales in a software company.  I was awful at it.

I truly believed in the software we had to offer. It was much better than our competitors. It would allow a small business plug into a catalog of millions of product, so they would immediately have something to sell online.

I would go into all of the details of the quality of products, the pricing, the number, the type of code used, etc. etc. etc. And I would barely make quota.

Then there were Jess and Brynn and Greg. They would knock it out of the park every week (unless they broke up with someone). I remember when Greg listened to me on a call once, and I asked him what I was doing wrong.

"You're selling the steak."
"...OK?"
"You need to sell the sizzle."

He was right. I was talking about the "steak" -- the software. I talked about what it was made out of, what it looked like, how it acted, and how it compared. What I needed to talk about was the "sizzle." How you could be successful, you could have your own business, you could have a passive income... all of this was true. It was what you could do with the software, not what the software was. It's hard to sell software, it's easy to sell the American dream.

Shakespeare understood this. Henry V understood this.

Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more; Or close the wall up with our English dead. In peace there's nothing so becomes a man As modest stillness and humility: But when the blast of war blows in our ears, Then imitate the action of the tiger; Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood, Disguise fair nature with hard-favour'd rage; Then lend the eye a terrible aspect; Let pry through the portage of the head Like the brass cannon; let the brow o'erwhelm it As fearfully as doth a galled rock O'erhang and jutty his confounded base, Swill'd with the wild and wasteful ocean. Now set the teeth and stretch the nostril wide, Hold hard the breath and bend up every spirit To his full height. On, on, you noblest English. Whose blood is fet from fathers of war-proof! Fathers that, like so many Alexanders, Have in these parts from morn till even fought And sheathed their swords for lack of argument: Dishonour not your mothers; now attest That those whom you call'd fathers did beget you. Be copy now to men of grosser blood, And teach them how to war. And you, good yeoman, Whose limbs were made in England, show us here The mettle of your pasture; let us swear That you are worth your breeding; which I doubt not; For there is none of you so mean and base, That hath not noble lustre in your eyes. I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips, Straining upon the start. The game's afoot: Follow your spirit, and upon this charge Cry 'God for Harry, England, and Saint George!' Henry V wasn't selling a hard-fought victory. He was selling glory. He was selling strength. He was selling honor. The quality of mercy is not strain'd, It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven Upon the place beneath: it is twice blest; It blesseth him that gives and him that takes: 'Tis mightiest in the mightiest: it becomes The throned monarch better than his crown; His sceptre shows the force of temporal power, The attribute to awe and majesty, Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings; But mercy is above this sceptred sway; It is enthroned in the hearts of kings, It is an attribute to God himself; And earthly power doth then show likest God's When mercy seasons justice. Therefore, Jew, Though justice be thy plea, consider this, That, in the course of justice, none of us Should see salvation: we do pray for mercy; And that same prayer doth teach us all to render The deeds of mercy. I have spoke thus much To mitigate the justice of thy plea; Which if thou follow, this strict court of Venice Must needs give sentence 'gainst the merchant there. Portia isn't defending Antonio (or Antonia, depending on the version), she was selling mercy. How different is it to say, "Antonio should go free" vs. saying, "Mercy is an admirable quality?" Sizzle, not steak.