The stories we tell ourselves

Katie had 15 minutes before her next appointment, and she was using every one of them to get ready. Pulling the client file, she started reviewing the notes from their brief pre-appointment conversation, confirming their pending meeting on Tuesday afternoon:

Conservative. Wants safety, not growth. We'll talk CDs and a fixed annuity, same as last time.

She walked in, knowing exactly what she wanted to say and do to move the conversation in the direction she wanted it to go. Forty-five minutes later, she walked out having sold her client a fixed indexed annuity. Mission accomplished, right?

Not really.  Katie never asked about the business her client had just sold, the six-figure check sitting in his money market account, or the fact that he'd mentioned (twice) wanting to "do something meaningful" before he ran out of time to do it.

She wasn't in the room for a discovery conversation. She was in the room to confirm what she'd already concluded was what the client wanted. She saw exactly what she expected to see and had the conversation she wanted to have.

She just never saw, or really heard from, the client.

The beginner's mind

In the martial arts world, we often talk about Shoshin,  the beginner's mind. Shunryu Suzuki, the Zen teacher who popularized the term, put it simply: "In the beginner's mind there are many possibilities, but in the expert's mind there are few."

On the mat, this shows up constantly. The white belt steps into a sparring match with no idea what's coming, so he intentionally watches everything. He pays attention to his opponent’s footwork, hands, breathing and timing. He’s forced to be present because he has no script to fall back on.

Ironically, it’s the intermediate belts who often get caught. They've drilled enough combinations, sparred enough times, that they think they know what's coming next. So they stop observing and start predicting. And the moment you start predicting instead of perceiving, your opponent can now exploit you.

Don’t miss this.  The opponent doesn't have to be better than you. They just have to do the one thing you didn't expect, because you've already stopped looking.

Mastery at your craft doesn't eliminate this trap. It only creates a more sophisticated version of it. The senior black belt, with decades of experience, still has to fight the tendency to predict rather than perceive consciously. When you make an assumption on the mat, you all-too-often get your butt handed to you.

Yes, experience is valuable. But experience that calcifies into certainty is dangerous.

When advisors assume

Every advisor reading this has a story like Katie’s. Maybe it's not a widower and an annuity. Maybe it's the small-business owner you've already decided isn't "there yet" for a buy-sell agreement, or the young couple you've mentally filed under "not enough assets to be worth the deep conversation," or the long-time client you stopped really listening to three years ago because you already “know” how these conversations go with them.

For most of us, this isn’t malicious. As an expert in human behavior, I understand that categorizing people is how our brains efficiently manage a busy calendar and a full pipeline. But efficiency and accuracy are not the same thing. How often does an opportunity walk out the door without our realizing it was there in the first place?

The stories we tell ourselves often delude us into thinking we know more than we do.  When we predetermine the outcome, assuming we already know what our clients want or need, our brains ignore any information that contradicts what we believe to be true.

Like a lens, the brain filters what we see and hear. We often overlook the subtle and not-so-subtle clues our client is giving us that indicate there are other topics they wish to discuss, particularly if they do not align with our predetermined outcomes.

In fact, two advisors can sit across from the same prospect and walk away with completely different pictures of who that person is and what they need, purely because of the lens each one brought into the room.

The lens through which we view the world

When I’m speaking or training, I often ask advisors, “Tell me what you do.”  I usually get an answer like: "I'm a life insurance guy" or "I do Medicare supplements." When you view the world through this lens, it shapes how your clients see you and how you approach every client conversation.

For example, if you’re "the life insurance guy," then every conversation gets presorted into "fits my box" or "doesn't fit my box." The client with a complicated long-term care question doesn't get your full attention, because subconsciously, that's not really your department. Even worse, clients may only see you as “the life guy,” so they don’t even raise this as a concern, excluding you from this opportunity altogether.

Compare that with the advisor who says, "I help people create, protect and preserve wealth." You aren’t branding yourself as a product specialist, but as an innovative problem-solver. You ask, “What keeps you awake at night?” So the same complicated long-term-care question isn't outside your lane. It’s exactly the kind of problem you exist to help them solve. Even better, your clients don’t see you as a “one-trick pony” who can assist them in only one specific area.

Same room. Same prospect. Two completely different outcomes. Why? Because the lens was different before the meeting ever started.

The invisible ceiling

The stories we tell ourselves often become the limits we place on ourselves. When we tell ourselves (and the world), “This is all I do,” that becomes both a limiting belief and an invisible ceiling. The stories we tell ourselves often become the lies we tell ourselves, sabotaging our own success in the process.

Whether it’s life insurance, long-term care, an annuity or managed money, once you’ve predetermined what your clients want or need before an exploratory conversation, you’re bringing a bias into the conversation and potentially overlooking the real opportunity that exists.  This is the invisible ceiling that caps our potential.

On the mat

Shoshin doesn't ask you to forget what you know. Instead, it asks you to hold on to what you know while continuing to be curious.  This is how we learn and grow.  For example, the advisor with a beginner's mind walks into that same meeting with the widower, and instead of executing a script, she opens with a single question:

"Tell me what has changed since we last talked."

That single sentence is the difference between a transaction and a revelation. This only happens when you haven’t predetermined the outcome.

When you remain curious, there’s no telling what you can discover.

Before your next appointment, remind yourself that you don’t know what you don’t know.  You can’t solve the problem you don’t know exists. So ask yourself if you’ve already prewritten the script and predetermined the ending. The narratives we create can turn into the falsehoods that restrict our future achievements.

The lens you look through determines what you see. Change the lens, and the whole practice changes with it.

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Read more from John L. Terry's series of articles on Mastery in Motion.

The framework that builds excellence

John L. Terry III is a 3-time martial arts Hall of Fame inductee, multi-discipline black belt, L.A. Tribune Best-Selling Author, and a Real Leaders Top 50 Executive Coach and Top Impact Speaker. He is the founder of Black Belt Leadership, the creator of The MORE Score, and the author of multiple books on human performance, leadership and professional excellence. Contact him at john.terry@innfeedback.com.