Don't Call Me Charly

What's most frustrating isn't a customer not buying.

It's explaining everything you do differently,

only for them to say:

"Oh, okay. So you're just like the others."

That stings.

In high school, I had a friend.

Well, more of an acquaintance.

"Tacho."

That's what everyone called him.

He was a good guy. Quiet.

But he hated being called that.

It all started with his mustache.

Mustache → "Mostacho" → "Tacho."

And it stuck.

Imagine being reduced to a part of your body.

Like if someone called you "Eyebrow."

Or "Knee."

For a long time, he let it go.

He'd laugh.

He'd tolerate it.

Until one day, he'd had enough.

And every time someone said "Tacho," he'd reply:

"My name is Carlos."

Even if it was awkward.

Even if he had to repeat it six times to each person.

He stood firm.

And after a few weeks, no one called him Tacho anymore.

He was Carlos now.

Confession time?

I envied him.

Because I'm also Carlos.

And I've been called everything:

Charly.

Charles Barkley.

Origami.

Mahatma Agami.

And even though I didn't like them,

I never corrected anyone.

I'd smile and accept it,

so as not to make anyone uncomfortable.

Your customers do the same to you.

They reduce you to something easy to understand:

"The discounter."

"Just another one selling the same thing."

"The expensive one."

It's like saying:

"You know, Beethoven, the guy with the quiet music."

Or

"Shakespeare, the one with the long novels."

Sounds unfair.

And it's annoying.

But if it happens, it's not because the customer is dumb.

Or mean-spirited.

It's because that's what they see.

If they compare you to everyone else,

maybe you're behaving like everyone else.

And then, selling will be tough.

Think about it.

Happy Sunday.

With affection,

Carlos

PS. Remember: serving is the way.

PS2. Don't call me Charly, my name is Carlos.

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Shopology S.A. de C.V.

Av. Pacífico 468 Local C, Coyoacán, Ciudad de México, CP 04330, México

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