Winning Friends & Influencing People
You also meet the nicest people at AAA.
A few weeks ago, Henri asked if I knew of Dale Carnegie’s book, How to Win Friends and Influence People, which he recently discovered and appreciated.
“Of course,” I said. “Forty summers ago my then-girlfriend Teppie’s dad Terry Lemerond recommended it. Was a game changer for me; put things in perspective.”
Naturally, I was a bit cocky with my newfound confidence booster back then. I took it to new heights when signing up to work for Southwestern Company selling study guides and cookbooks door-to-door in Beaver Falls, Pennsylvania in the summer of 1986. Lacking that ‘killer instinct’, I pulled up stakes two-thirds of the way through and retreated back to Wisconsin, working at Terry’s Bay Natural Foods store to help package Enzymatic Therapy vitamin supplements.
But Carnegie’s words stuck with me as I navigated college, shifting from a nebulous marketing degree to journalism, where I learned how to ask good open-ended questions. That was 1987, and my degree – coupled with a mandatory year of Latin during my freshman year at Abbot Pennings High School – laid the foundation for a long career working for newspapers, magazines and online publications in different industries.
It also helps that I possess the gift of gab with a listener’s ear and a memory bank of details to make a bank of IBM computers jealous.
I took these skills to the local AAA yesterday to get my International Driving Permit in preparation for our European motorcycle tour in August. We love the Mountain View AAA because it also offers DMV services, which we use frequently to register motorcycle purchases. The staff is super friendly and endearing (although there was a spell with a few emotionally detached and uncaring Millennials who seemed hellbent on making our life miserable), and yesterday was a highlight for a few reasons.
I rolled up to an empty parking spot on my ‘62 BMW R 60/2 when an older security guard approached and told me of a narrow, unmarked motorcycle parking spot on the other side of the entrance. Thanking him as he opened the door after I removed my helmet and Filson backpack, I was greeted as always with a smile and a ‘what brings you in today?’ by a young AAA staffer named Braden who I hadn’t met before. I told him of my need for an International Driver Permit and two passport photos. He took my name and asked me to wait for a teller in the DMV section.
Thirty seconds later I was called up by the same woman who helped me navigate registering the R 60/2 a few months ago. The bike’s title was old, tiny and seemingly in need of replacement, but she found the bike in the system and processed the paperwork in three minutes, handing me the license plate sticker, which she remembered after she asked where I would be using the driving permit.
Payment processed, my passport photo was taken by the same staffer who greeted me. I downloaded, printed and filled in the necessary paperwork ahead of time, so all I had to do was sign, date, and jot down the country where next month’s adventure begins.
He also asked about the nature of my trip, and after I mentioned starting in France we talked a bit about the riots raging through the same country hosting one of the largest sporting events on the planet – the Tour de France. I described how we’re flying into Geneva, then taking the train to Annecy for a few days to adjust to the time change and elevation before hopping on a train to Aix-les-Bains to begin our tour.
Somehow the conversation came around to what I do for a living, and his eyes lit up when I rolled through my journalistic evolution from music, to sports, then bicycles and motorcycles.
Ten minutes later (he had extra time to chat because it was 10:20 a.m. and foot traffic was slow), our conversation naturally segued from the written word to the spoken, with our Motorcycles Are Drugs podcast taking center stage. He was smitten with my 60-second, 36-year oral career history. He was an engaging conversationalist who was interested in hearing more.
After giving him our business card, he stood and shook my hand.
“A friend of mine just got a Tesla from his parents, and he hates it. He’d rather have a motorcycle and feel more attached to his surroundings.”
“Tell him to go for it,” I answered. “Will make him feel like an astronaut.”
“You’ve just earned yourself another dedicated listener and reader,” he added. “I’ll let him know. Thanks for sharing, and I hope your trip is amazing!”
I slung my arms through my backpack as the security guard held the door open and bid me to have a great day. The smile filled my helmet as I stepped on the kickstarter and pointed the bike toward the Mountain View library to fetch a Neil Peart book.
Old Dale’s advice is still going strong since he published his bestseller in 1936, with a reported 30 million copies sold. Give it a read if you haven’t, and feel good about giving a bit of yourself to learn more about others.
Love your descriptions! It's amazing how people will open up if you give them the chance. Great reason to put away your phone and be present in the world. And Dale Carnegie gets two thumbs up from me. I took his course a few lifetimes ago, and I've used what I learned ever since.
I went to the same AAA and had such fun sharing trip details with Mary, the usual greeter and map fetcher. She also processed my International Driving License. She shared about saving up to travel Europe a couple times, and how it's so important to get out of our usual routines from time to time.