For a few years, some decades back, my daddy, a life insurance executive in real life, was one of the financial backers of the Ford dealership in Galveston, where I grew up.
There was a new car salesman at the dealership named McDonald. Like every person I've ever known named McDonald, he was called Mac. I suppose he had a real given name, but I'll bet only his mom and dad, and maybe an aunt and an uncle or so, knew what it was.
Mac fancied polyester everything -- coat, pants, shirt, socks and tie, when he wore one. His hair was always a bit too long and was held in place by the build up of many prior days' applications of Vitalis hair tonic. He wore green tinted lens sunglasses day and night, inside and out.
While he didn't look prosperous, month after month, he was the dealership's top salesman. Often he sold more cars by himself than the two nearest competitors put together.
Mac had a secret that wasn't really a secret. What he really had was a significantly stronger desire to sell cars than any of the others. You see, his secret was to hide in the dealership's showroom when it was closed and everyone had gone home.
He would watch people drive up after work to look at the cars on the lot, thinking it was a great way to outsmart the pesky salesmen.
Mac would watch them, and his talent was intuitively knowing which model and color they had zeroed in on. With his binoculars he would get the license plate number off of their car.
Within moments by using a license plate criss-cross that the dealership had gotten from the state, he knew who they were, where they lived, and was able to confirm the year of the car they were driving.
The next day, Mac would call his "prospect" and tell them that they had won a prize and he'd like to deliver it to them. No one turns down a prize, so the appointment was easily made. Never mind they had no idea why they had won.
Mac would drive up in the same car they had looked at the night before. He'd have with him a fairly close guess as to what the dealership would pay for their used car.
Now all he had to do was to give them their prize, which was usually a ham he had smoked himself, and finesse them into taking a test drive in the car he knew they liked.
He could make the deal on the spot.
Not all, but a huge percentage of those who Mac secretly stalked at the dealership bought a car from him. I doubt any of them ever caught on that they were the victims of a very sophisticated formula.
So tell me this. What can real estate companies and their sales people learn from Mac McDonald. One hint? It's not his style of dressing and grooming.
Keller Williams Dallas Premier
Direct Number: 214 503-8563