A Sales Story and Fear of Loss

Imagine you are sound asleep in the middle of the night, with a hectic day waiting in the morning. The phone rings, and a frantic voice says, “Hey, I’ve got an opportunity for you. If you get down to your office within the hour, you could make yourself $500.” Even though you could use another $500, you’ll probably hang up the phone, and go back to sleep. Now look at the difference when the phone rings and that same frantic voice says, “Hey, you’ve got a problem. If you don’t get down to the office within the hour you’ll lose $500.” You would bound out of bed, and head down to the office. In both situations, it was the same $500 that was in question. The only difference is that one way you gain it, the other way you lose it. Loss is an even more powerful motivator than gain.

When you open the newspaper, and see an ad announcing a storewide sale until midnight Sunday, they are appealing to your fear of loss. Act now or you could lose that special discounted sale price. They promote “sale ends Sunday” or “this weekend only” or “seating is limited,” appealing to your fear of loss.

Sometimes the uniqueness or limited quantity of a product or service is what motivates. The fact that it is unique can create a fear of loss and also to build value. There’s only one Mona Lisa. Or it can be that there is only one left. You’ve heard advertisements where they say, “While supplies last.” They’re saying, “Act now or you’ll lose out.”

Here’s a story where I was very motivated, and the salesman appealed to my fear of loss. Kim and I bought a High Definition TV. It’s a seventy-three inch Mitsubishi set with a DLP picture. That means that we’ll have to replace a projection bulb after an advertised five thousand hours at a cost of around $300. One bulb replacement was included in the extended warranty, and the cost of the extended warranty was just a bit more than the cost of a new bulb. It was an easy decision; we got the warranty. Over the years, I’ve had rebates that expired before I applied, gift certificates I’ve never cashed in, and I’ve bought products with free maintenance plans that I’ve not used, simply because I lacked the discipline to stay on top of these offers. So, I made a pact with Kim that we’d make sure we called to request the bulb change before the extended warranty expired.

But just less than a year after we got the new set, I noticed that the picture didn’t seem as bright as when it was new. My thought: we didn’t get anywhere near the five thousand hours, and we needed a new bulb already. We called, and a guy came out to check out the picture and replace the bulb. First thing he did was ask to see our instruction manual for the TV. A highly trained specialist, right?

We sat back and fired up the set to see how much more impressive it was with the new bulb. Nothing different at all. Of course the service guy went on and on about what a fantastic picture it was. Seventy-three inch HD sets are impressive, even if the picture isn’t quite right. I convinced myself that I was just getting used to the picture, and there was really nothing wrong. A month went by and the picture started to flutter. I thought something was wrong with our DVD player, but had the same flutter when I switched to regular network TV. Then I thought it might be that the replacement bulb was defective. I had saved the old bulb, so switched it. At first the problem seemed to have cleared up.  Me- a proud mister fix-it! Thirty minutes later that flutter came back. Kim called and scheduled another service call.

Kim met the two guys they sent. Neither had any diagnostic tools, so all they did was sit on our couch and watch the TV. No flutter. At least they didn’t ask for a couple of beers. I got home later and turned on the news, and the flutter started exactly twelve minutes later. Days went by, and this time they sent an actual technician. Like clockwork, twelve minutes from when I turned it on it went haywire again. The technician didn’t try to fix anything. He didn’t even touch the set. He just sat there, and with a tone of total disgust he said, “You can’t watch this!” Oh really? Then he added, “We’ll have to order a new optical drive. When it comes in, we’ll send somebody out to pick up the set and take it to the shop to swap the drive.” Two weeks went by with no news so Kim called Mitsubishi directly and they said that they it could take another couple of weeks before they got the part.

Here’s the point: Kim and I decided that we NEEDED a replacement TV while we waited for everybody to get their acts together, so went down to Best Buy to pick one. At least we had already done research when we selected our seventy-three inch, so seeing the hundred plus HD screens all lit and looking awesome was not as intimidating as it might have been. Kim and I narrowed our search down to two sixty inch TV's. We corralled a knowledgeable sales guy, asked our last few questions, and still had not eliminated either of the two, so I asked, “Are both of these in stock?” It was Saturday, and we were anxious to get it home and be watching it that very night, so if only one was in stock, that could very well be the deciding factor.

The sales guy came back from checking and said, “We have one of each in stock.”

One of each? The first thing that raced through my head was fear of loss. There must have been fifty people looking at TV's there in Best Buy, and some were even eavesdropping as our sales guy answered our questions. I imagined taking too long making our decision, and by the time we made up our minds, the TV we wanted would be purchased by somebody else. I felt pressure. It wasn’t pressure from the sales guy. It was pressure from inside me, the pressure of fear of loss. I went to get the sales guy, but couldn’t find him. I started to feel frantic. I walked up and down every isle, and then ran over to the demo area. Then, a sigh of relief. There he was. I said, “Excuse me, one more question. If we buy the Sony, can you get it delivered today?” He told me he’d check, but came back shaking his head, saying it would be at least a week.

The need for immediate gratification was making me crazy. The Sony we saw looked small enough to fit in my car, so I asked, “Can I fit it in my convertible if the top’s down?”

“No way,” he said. “Here, let me show you what it looks like when it’s in the box.” He held the door to their inventory area, and pointed to a row of huge boxes way up on the third tier of their shelving. Yes, I said boxes. There were at least a half dozen of those exact Sony TV's boxed up there, not just one, as our sales guy had intimated. He hadn’t lied. He just didn’t make the truth very clear. He had planted the seed that there was only one of those TV's, and my mind did the rest. Fear of loss is a powerful motivator. Oh, by the way, we got the Sony home that night with a borrowed truck. Awesome. And the Mitsubishi? One aggressive letter and they got our Mitsubishi running the very next week.