Merry Christmas . . . Yeah, I have the receipt. Why?

Nothing says Merry Christmas, and I love you, like pre-packaged food from a major national restaurant chain. I know, because I've just been to the mall, and guys are lined up buying this stuff.

I bet there are going to be lots of happy gals come Christmas morning when they get these special gifts.

Can you feel the anticipation? I can. I envision packages of beef jerky, barbecue wings, and assorted processed meats and cheeses being opened and shared with excited family members—a holiday tradition for many, I'm sure.

This is a tough time of year for most guys. Most of us are not shoppers. I know you find this hard to believe, but it's true. I know we have no problem buying stuff for ourselves. And many of us can spend hours at Bass Pro Shops or the guy's end of the mall--Sears (electronics, hardware and tool department). But that's different.

It's not that we don't care about giving the perfect gift--we do. It's just that the pressure of getting the "right" gift wrong is so great. This makes us afraid--very, very afraid.

Giving us a list doesn't help much. If we buy from the list it isn't a surprise, or that "something special" just for you. If it's too practical--like paying down a credit card bill, a month of cable TV, car wash package, oil change, or other cool stuff, it doesn't count. Plus, guys think generic, women think name brand. Even the color of the box can make a difference—Tiffany's versus Kay's. Same stuff, different reaction. Go figure?

Take something as simple as hand cream. We look at your list. Hand cream jumps off the page. We think, "How difficult can this be? They sell it by the gallon at Sam's."

Being the sensitive guy, tempered by experience,  we know instinctively that nothing from Sam's will work. So we decide to go to Bath and Body Works and get something special. Bad move.

As soon as we enter the store we are overpowered by the sights, sounds, and smells of creams and soap! Who knew there were so many kinds of skin cream--dry, oily, old, young, young wanting to be old, old wanting to be young, sensitive skin, non-perfumed, hypo-allergenic, rejuvenating and undecided. And this stuff is made of all kinds of crazy stuff--fruits, veggies, salts, dirt, grass, rocks, grains, and things I can't pronounce.

All the pictures around the store are of absolutely perfect people--goddesses. We know immediately that we are in the right place. That's why there's a line of guys 20 deep trying to buy this stuff.

Now, no good  deed goes unpunished. Each store has a very nice good-looking young lady at the entrance of the store herding guys to a common point in front of a display of the current "gotta have" gift.

To be honest, we're a pathetic lot. Just, a group of guys with sticky notes in hand blankly staring at a wall of multi-colored tubes, jars, containers, and pump dispensers of, well, hand cream, trying to do the right thing.

Hand cream is all the same to us. We know we could have bought it at Sam's, but this is a special occasion. We need to get it right. We also know that as good a deal the two gallon pack of hand cream is, life as we know it would cease about noon on the 25th if we had bought the year's supply of the stuff.


So we do what every guy does in a situation like this. Our brains stop working. We either buy everything the pretty girls tells us to buy or, our heads explode, and we run away. Either way we survive to fight, or shop, another day.

Here's the problem. Our brains are only good for two things. Keeping us alive and passing on the genes.  Shopping is not a high priority. We know if we screw this up--as we have in the past--our emotional lives will be in jeopardy, and passing on the genes will likely be a non-starter.

Emotional pain--getting it wrong--hurts about 5 times more than the feel-good emotions of getting it right. Therefore, we are more concerned about getting it wrong than getting it right--even when we know we got it wrong, but not very wrong.

The danger of going for the gusto and getting it very wrong is greater than playing it safe and getting it only a little right--or wrong, depending on your point of view.


So this holiday, please take pity on the poor guy standing in line buying packaged meats, gift cards, snuggies, oil changes and car wash packages. It's not that we don't care. We just aren't wired to do much better.

Merry Christmas!  I am off to the Mall.  By the way, save your receipts because it's all going back--just like last year.  See you in line!  Wave if you see me.

Money Makes Me Crazy--Ted

Why Outies Go Into Sales (And Why Innies Should)

Guest Blogger: Rich Virgilio, CFO Apexx Behavioral Soultions Group, developer of the "Money Temperament Profile"

First let’s define “Outie” as a person who prefers to spend time and energy interacting with the outer world, engaging others, and is unhesitatingly capable of carrying a whole conversation alone.  An “Innie” is defined as a person who prefers to be introspective, spending time and energy internalizing matters, engaging few or one (or no) people at a time, and are those who often rehearse what they are going to say in their head before saying it out loud, regardless of the importance or triviality of the conversation.  Note that these are preferences of behavior and not some kind of unchangeable characteristic.

 Outies seem, at first glance, to be naturals at sales.  They are outgoing, gregarious, and effective at making contacts, bringing in prospects, and letting the world know about their product.  Conversely, Innies generally tend to undersell themselves.  But the common wisdom of sales training is that the key thing in sales is “closing the sale”--making the deal, collecting the check.  If that’s true, Innies probably have the advantage, because although it is about “selling yourself,” the sales person can’t forget that it’s “selling the product” that brings in revenue. 

Consider, for example, an Outie sales person with an Outie customer.  The salesperson’s poor listening predilection and constant talking may get in the way of closing the deal.  An Innie customer hardly has a chance with an Outie salesperson.  The Innie customer’s point of view will likely be overlooked (steamrolled?) and he or she will be subject to the Outie salesperson’s overkill approach. 

Now consider these situations with a salesperson who’s an Innie.  Outie customers will sell themselves, no sweat.  They will talk themselves into the product and only need some well-timed encouragement and someone to listen to them.  Easy enough.  On the other hand, Innie customers will relate to the Innie salesperson and will appreciate not being pressured; those customers can respond to the reflective moments as a chance to come to their own conclusions.  What’s important is a keen sense of timing and support from the salesperson, not the overwhelming (to an Innie), bold push to the close. 

It takes Outies to advertise something, letting the world know it exists and can be bought.  But Innies may very well be better suited to swoop in for the kill. 

A simple tool to help you determine if you’re an Innie or an Outie can be found at www.myapexx.com/assessments.

Derived from a portion of the book Type Talk by Dr. Otto Kroeger and Dr. Janet Thuesen.

Who Gives A Luxury Car At Christmas?

What am I missing?

Who are these 30 something couples I see on TV who give luxury cars as gifts? They certainly don't hang out in the places I go to.

Why does the guy always need a shave? Is this sexy and a mark of sophistication and affluence? Or just poor hygiene? If I go a day without shaving I look like I need a job and a drink.

Where do these people live? It can't be in the South. It's always cold and snowy where they park the car. And it's invariably the nice light white stuff. Not the heavy, grey slush I had to shovel as a kid.

Where do they buy the ribbon? I'm a bit of a ribbon expert. My wife is a quilter. I've been dragged to so many quilt and fabric shops; I've lost count. So, I can tell you from experience, "wrap a car" ribbon doesn't exist. If you don't believe me, ask any fabric Sherpa queued up in the special seats patiently waiting for their wives. They know.  

Ask yourself, have you ever met a family as attractive as these people? A team of Hollywood plastic surgeons couldn't build a family that looks as good.

I guess these folks are doing something right--brilliant, lucky, married well, a trust fund, could be anything. They're just not the folks I know. Wait, aren't these people the 1%? Aren't they, well, bad? If that's the case, why put them in a commercial?  

Oh yeah, and what's the guy in the commercial supposed to do when his wife buys him a car, and he got her was a vacuum--a very nice one--and a matched set of Black & Decker power tools? Now that would be awkward.

We draw names at my house and set a spending limit. I believe the limit is less than the price of a car--even a used one. Am I missing something?

For most families, the opportunity cost of a luxury car is a college education, a secure retirement, or a year's wages. However, that doesn't matter. Our subconscious feeling brain wants to be just like them. And the car "guys" know it.

Money Makes Me Crazy--Ted
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