Small Change
Pistone came out of the operation, but one habit stayed with him. Mafiosi, he writes, never book tables at restaurants. They just walk in and give a name. If the maître d’ says there’s no reservation, there comes a menacing what-do-you-mean-no, and a table turns up. Back in civilian life, Pistone did this a couple of times. His wife shook her head at him reproachfully. But, he admits, it really does work.
Small things stick hardest. A big trick you notice, and you’re ashamed of it yourself. A small one you do without thinking. And it works precisely because nobody’s thinking. Not you, and not the man it’s working on.
The maître d’ isn’t giving way to a mafioso. He’s giving way to his own reluctance to make a scene in front of the guests. That’s exactly how Pistone explains it: people try to avoid conflict in public. If you feel awkward saying “no,” ask yourself what this man will do if you say it anyway. If the answer is “nothing,” say it.
The Newspaper
The second small thing is for the ears. During the operation Pistone read every newspaper going. The guys used to laugh at him: how do you keep Donnie busy? Give him a couple of papers and he’s happy all day.
He did like reading. But that wasn’t the whole of it. The papers, he writes, made excellent cover. From behind a newspaper he heard everything said around him. Everyone thought he was just reading; it never crossed their minds he was listening in. And Lefty, flying in to see him in Milwaukee or Florida, would first thing hand him the latest New York papers. He brought the cover himself.
A man with his hands full seems busy. People talk more freely around him than around someone who sits and watches. To this day I lower my voice when someone at the next table spends too long reading the menu.
Owning Up to a Trifle
The third is for the tongue. At three in the morning a patrol in Florida pulled Donnie over for speeding. The car was stolen, no papers, a pistol under the seat. He had to keep the officer away from the car. Donnie owned up at once: no argument, officer, he said in Pistone’s telling, I’m moving this thing from one dealer to another. He named a dealer in Lakeland. And he said himself that there were no papers for the car. Pistone explains the calculation simply: it was three in the morning, and no cop was going to ring anyone at that hour. The officer handed back his licence and let him go with a warning.
Donnie gave up the small thing so the big thing wouldn’t get checked. A man who’s confessed to a trifle seems to have nothing else to look for. And he picked a detail that couldn’t be checked right then. When someone readily owns up to a small thing and at the same time hurries the conversation along, check what can’t be checked today.
But Wait, There’s More
The fourth has been studied better than the rest. In 1986 the psychologist Jerry Burger sold cupcakes at a student bake sale. Some customers were told straight away the price of a cupcake with two cookies. Others were told the price of a cupcake alone. And while the person was thinking it over, they added: wait, it comes with two cookies too. In the second case people bought almost twice as often. Same price, same cookies. All that grew was the feeling that someone was making an effort for you right now.
A gift that grows before your eyes is a performance. If you want to check, ask the price without the gift. If it’s the same, all you were given was a pause.
A No in Gift Wrap
The fifth is for saying no. Lefty spent about a week with Donnie in California and asked him to fly back to New York together. Donnie needed to be in Milwaukee, and he couldn’t tell the truth. He turned Lefty down, Pistone writes, on the pretext that he had a big, juicy bit of business coming up. Hearing about money, Lefty calmed down: it meant he’d be getting his cut.
A no wrapped in the other man’s gain doesn’t offend. But it works only with someone whose motive you know for certain. Lefty wanted a cut. Someone else might have wanted your company, and the “bit of business” would have landed like a slap in the face. And remember: a no like that is an IOU. One day someone will ask where the cut is.
The Don’s Little Habits
The Don’s small things were different. They all served one purpose: that a man shouldn’t feel he’d been had. He repeated the order back in the client’s own words: “So, twenty tablecloths by Friday, starched.” The man heard that he’d been understood, and later there was nothing to argue about. The Don never started with “no.” First he said what he could do, then what he couldn’t.
That’s small change from the pocket too. Only it isn’t pulled out by the one who wants to shift you. It’s pulled out by the one who wants you to come back.
The Bottom Line
Small things work quietly, so pick yours honestly. Give a man back his own words. Say first what you can do. If you say no through someone’s gain, make sure the gain is real.
Other people’s small things can be spotted by one sign: they move you faster than you can think. A concession made so there won’t be a scene. A gift that grew in a second. A confession to a trifle, after which questions feel rude. If you notice you’re being hurried, stop and ask that very awkward question.