Your Kind of Client

The Godfather, both Puzo’s novel and Coppola’s film, opens with the undertaker Amerigo Bonasera coming to see Don Corleone at his daughter’s wedding. Two young men have beaten up Bonasera’s daughter. An American court gave them suspended sentences, and they walked out of the courtroom smirking. Bonasera asks for justice. The Don listens and first reproaches him: all these years you never came to me, never invited me to your house, never sought my friendship, and now that things have gone badly you come and offer me money. Then he agrees to help, but not the way the undertaker asked: nobody will be killed, since the daughter is still alive. And he reminds him that some day he’ll ask for a service in return.

That’s literature, but the scene is worth taking apart piece by piece, because the whole question of the client is packed into it.

When a Man Comes to You

Bonasera lived near Corleone for years and never once came to him. He believed in American law, lived by it and had no need of a Don. He came on exactly the day the law let him down.

The economist Diego Gambetta, whom I’ve told you about already, built a whole theory of the Palermo Mafia on this: demand for private protection appears where people don’t trust each other and don’t count on the courts and the police. Where the courts work, nobody needs that kind of protection.

For your business the lesson is the same. Every client has a moment when he first starts looking for what you sell. A wedding, a move, a first child, a first tax inspection, a first breakdown. Before that moment your offer means nothing to him, shout as loud as you like. After that moment he’s looking, and whoever turns up first and wins his trust often gets a client for years. Find out where that moment is for your client, and be there.

What He Really Wants

Bonasera asked for a killing. Those were his words. But what he wanted was something else: for the wrong not to go unpunished, and to be able to look people in the eye again. Corleone heard not the words but the result the man needed, and offered what gives that result: a punishment to fit the offence.

People almost never buy what they’re buying. A man buys a drill, but what he wants is a shelf on the wall, or more precisely, for his wife to stop reminding him about the shelf. Before you sell, ask yourself: what will my client’s life be like once I’ve done my job? Sell that life, not the drill.

Not Everyone Is Your Client

Look at the scene again. Corleone doesn’t take money, but he doesn’t help for nothing either. He demands that Bonasera acknowledge him as a friend, show him respect, come into the circle. A man who isn’t ready to come in stays on the other side of the door. That’s selection.

In the real families selection was harsher still: nobody discussed business with a stranger until somebody vouched for him. More on that when we get to treats on the house.

You don’t need sponsors, but you do need selection. Not everyone who walks through the door is your client. Some have nothing to pay with. Some need something other than what you do. Some will demand more than they bring. Before you spend your effort, ask a couple of questions: what do you need, by when, how much are you prepared to spend on it, who else has a say. If the answers don’t fit your Business, it’s more honest to say “that’s not for us” straight away and tell the man where to go. He’ll remember that.

Don Vincenzo, by the way, said no often. Once a restaurant owner came to us who wanted his tablecloths washed cheaper than anyone else’s and demanded a discount for “recommending us to his friends”. The Don heard him out and recommended another laundry, a cheaper one. A year later the restaurant closed, owing that laundry three months. The Don sent its owner a bottle of wine, with condolences and very nearly no gloating.

The One Most Likely to Buy

Hence a simple rule. Your first client isn’t “everyone”. He’s the one who’s already paying somebody for something similar, isn’t happy, and can find you without trouble. Gambetta noticed this about the Mafia: it pays better to protect all the deals on a small turf than some of the deals on a big one. In your own neighbourhood you know every resident and every corner, new faces stand out at once, and the information you need comes to you by itself from the bars, the shops and the church. Better to start where you were born, or where you’ve lived longest.

In an office they have a word for this: reach. Can you get to your clients? Do you know where they go, what they read, whom they ask for advice? If you don’t, your market exists only on paper, and paper doesn’t buy much.

Don Vincenzo started with one street. The three laundries stood three blocks apart, and he knew half his clients by name. When people suggested he open at the other end of town, he asked: and who over there will know who’s who? Usually there was no answer.

Five Questions About the Client

To sum up. When does he first start looking for what you sell? What life does he want to end up with? Is he right for you, and you for him? Is he already paying somebody for something similar? And can you reach him without enormous expense?

Bonasera answered all five in one scene. Your clients will need more time. Keep asking until they answer.