For some time now I have chided myself for not chronicling the random and not so random thought that courses through my brain on a daily basis. A child of the "teach English by forced journaling" era, perhaps I believe that every thought must be put to print lest you deprive the future of your all importance consciousness. Or perhaps, like everyone else in our current narcissistic culture I believe that my thoughts and ideas have meaning beyond the confines of my life. Whatever the reason, this blog will be the fruit of the aforementioned impulse(s).
Five years ago I re-entered the "car business". My initial run was in 1995 for a period of about eight months. Though I made tremendous money doing it, I am a man of peace who appreciates the perks of our advanced civilization. Were I to believe in reincarnation I would well have been convinced that my sales manager was the latest incarnation of Genghis Khan. He had obviously penitently worked his way through multitudes of lives as various invertebrates, lower level mammalian existences, and, having finally been rewarded with life again as a man -- and not just a man but a leader of men, he had opted to show reincarnation that he hadn't learned a damned thing and was going for broke again.
One day I had a delightful older couple in my office. I had shown them a van, they liked the van, and thus had made an offer. After two rounds of negotiation my manager told me "you got nothing." I sat waiting for his directive on what to do next. After several minutes he noticed me still sitting there and asked, "What are you looking at me for? I said you got nothing." I thanked the couple for coming in and offered to be in touch should I find something in their price range. They left smiling. A few minutes later the manager walked by and asked where my van people were. When I reminded him that he had said I had nothing and thus had excused them he became beet red and invited me to take a walk with him.
We walked along the back of the lot where there was garbage, junk cars, and a railroad track. He explained through clenched teeth that he was trying not to f**king hit me. He further explained that when he said that I had nothing it meant that indeed I probably acutally
had something but that it was up to me to find that something and bring it back to him. That I was new to this sort of logic upon which he based his management style escaped him entirely. I indicated that I understood.
What I understood was that I had discovered what must have befallen Jimmy Haffa and that thus I needed another career quickly. I was selling cellular phones within a week.
So you can imagine my trepidation at returning.
I began at a Ford Lincoln Mercury franchise owned by someone about whom I had always heard good things. My love for Ford cars made it a nice fit, too. The sales manager was a former boxer who was genuinely easy to get along with. Since I knew how to work a computer well, I was the obvious choice for Internet Sales Manager.
As the prestigious Internet Sales Manager I was privy to all the email leads and phone calls from our company websites. Dealer Specialties fed the vehicles to our sites, and I waited for the cavalcade of calls and emails. Being a connoisseur of good language and a fan of creative advertising I took the template based sites we had and developed them to better reflect the "story" of our dealership.
Out of a sense of fairness I avoided talking to walk in customers unless everyone else was busy. In return I held the naive belief that if a customer announced that they had seen a given vehicle on our website that my colleagues would refer the customer to me. This would not happen, of course, but I tried as a matter of principle to make sure I did not reciprocate their lack of fair play.
It seems owners as well as managers can forget the basic rules of decorum and one afternoon after the owner began throwing things and behaving like a petulant child I realized that perhaps I should look elsewhere.
I began sending out letters to various larger, more established dealerships. Included in that was one of my county's largest auto groups. I always assumed that it must be a good place to work, as all of the established veteran car salesmen in the area would end up there. Like elephants all going to the same place to die, established car salesmen all eventually seem to gravitate toward the same place. This was that place, and none of them would have gone there had it not reeked of monetary opportunity.
I was thrilled to get an interview at their Chevrolet location. Now, no recounting of my arrival here would be complete without including my first impression.
I arrived all polished up, resume in hand, and walked into the showroom. It was far from spectacular, but it did not deter me. This, after all, was the place we had all dreamed of going at the Ford store. These guys received a $1000 Christmas bonus given in cash at a lavish party every year. Our owner had only rented some tables and had a caterer bring in some overcooked rigatoni. He spent the next day fixated on interviewing everyone to find out who had stolen his bottle of Black Velvet. I could go on and on, but I digress...
I asked for the general manager by name, as the owner of the franchise to whom I had written had instructed me to do. The man by the door said, "Yeah," and reached out for my resume. He told me that he had heard of me and that I was good at sales and the Internet. He then asked why in the world I would want to leave my current location.
What followed was an impassioned appeal for me to leave while there was still time. He enjoined his sidekick to tell me how he was on the brink of economic collapse with no hope of improvement. He spoke of the money he had once made, the respect he has once commanded, all of it lost now. When it became obvious that no horror could await me here equal to the desperate situation I was leaving, he finally disclosed that he was not the general manager and that I could find him next door. I had spent twenty minutes listening to the rantings of an old school car guy seasoned in hyperbole and drama who was hoping to simply scare me off.
The interview with the general manager was not much more substantive. After a few general questions he shrugged dismissively and acknowledged that something had to be done about the Internet and that the owner had told him to hire me. And so there I was. I had found a home among the land of giants. My life would be complete.
When I arrived with my laptop I found that, aside from listings on AutoTrader, this place had no web presence. Well, they had a website, but it was designed by a friend who had charged copious sums of money in exchange for a site on which the inventory had to be entered in manually -- including creating individual codes for each year, model, and even each individual option!
After a week or two of trying to enter in the myriad of models, options, and packages offered by Chevrolet, the regional sales manager for General Motors happened by. I introduced myself to her and she was so delighted to hear that there was an Internet manager that she took me to lunch. There I learned that General Motors had provided us a professionally maintained website, as well as many other tools to help our online efforts. This place had simply never chosen to look into it.
Within a week we had a professional looking website, email that didn't end in "yahoo.com", or "someotherfreeservicethatshowsweareabushleagueorganization.com". I had found a good CRM tool. In fact, I set it up for all three county stores though no one paid the least bit of attention to it. I attended the first of many seminars sponsored by Cars.com, AutoTrader, or our other third party vendors. Then I discovered GM's eSummit.
eSummit was a day packed with speakers from the leaders and innovators in online automotive marketing. Between breaks a hall filled with vendors pitched their wares, promising to help us maximize this or that. It was at the eSummits that I would meet incredibly insightful titans like Todd Smith of Activengage, Jared Hamilton of Driving Sales University, and just about any speaker from Cobalt or Google. The hardest part of attending an eSummit was returning to work.
Have you ever had one of those days where you believe you are Superman? You are so pumped, motivated, ready to take on the world, and then you make the mistake of sharing it with others who if they looked all day and halfway into the night could not find a single damn to give for it? Jesus had days like that, I am sure. It is why he enjoined us to "not give what is holy to the dogs; nor cast your pearls before swine, lest they trample them under their feet, and turn and tear you in pieces." (Matthew 7:6 for those taking notes.) Seriously, what is worse than hearing from industry leaders about how to make your digital marketing efforts cutting edge only to run some ideas past your general manager who replies, "You know, Novak, if I opened my own car lot right now, I wouldn't even
have the Internet there."?
 |
| I believe the word you are looking for is spelled WTF |
One day I will assemble a team of psychologists, anthropologists, sociologists, and a couple of those guys in the bar that always seem to know just the right thing to say at just the right time to develop a theory for why I do what I do. For now, suffice to know that I labored on for years thinking that if only they see the impact of what I am doing, they will realize how valuable it is and expand my role. If, by the way, you are thinking this where you are at right now, stop. No, seriously, stop. It is not going to end well.
When this general manager was given a co-general manager who was much younger and more energetic, I thought perhaps things would change for the better. When he joined me at an eSummit, I even allowed myself to fantasize about a future. There is a problem with optimism, though, it clouds one's ability to properly gauge the reality one is immersed in. When he threw out my eLead CRM tool and replaced it (sans any input from the end user, of course) with Autobase because eLead was just "too hard to use", I should have know there would be problems. I mean, no offense to the kids at Dominion, but anyone in 2010 who believed Autobase to be the most modern and effective CRM tool out there was probably shocked when that the
Timex Sinclair never surpassed IBM and Apple in the home computer market back in the 1980's.
All petty power struggles and ideological syncopation aside, the real issue was that this organization was never going to understand that Internet sales not what the guy in the corner who knows the computer does. It had to become increasingly an integrated and even predominant part of the overall selling strategy of the dealership. As the percentage of automobile customers that had first went online steadily climbed from 64% to almost 95% our strategy became not just outdated, but downright antiquated. Unfortunately, no one likes a prophet, or a smart ass -- and in my misery I was becoming increasingly like the latter.
I had finally determined that, like Sisyphus, the only thing that I was achieving was giving myself a brief sense of accomplishment for a few seconds before the rock came tumbling back down the hill. I began to make inquiries, send resumes, and even sat through an interview or two. Then Joe rode into town.
 |
| Joe Webb, Founder of DealerKnows Consulting |
The store among our group that was least open to any sort of Internet strategy had invited this man in as a consultant. I was tempted to view it as a good sign until reality sat me down, slapped the optimism out of me, and made me realize that the general manager of that store had only invited Joe in for appearances. He would look progressive, the consultant would owe his allegiance to him, and someone would be able to contradict that guy at the Chevrolet store who kept trying to tell the owners constantly that they could be doing so much more with a clear Internet strategy. For my part, I could care less who would ultimately be credited for inspiring change. If Joe Webb of
Dealer Knows could finally get the point across, at least
the damned point would get made finally!
Joe Webb held a meeting in which he assessed our current Internet situation. In the course of the discussion, the new younger co-general manager attempted to throw me under the bus. This takes a lot of effort, and he should have known it. There is a lot of me to get under the bus, after all. It is not something one can do quickly. He explained that our website featured my picture and mentioned me a lot --
not because we were using an outdated one man Internet salesperson model where I had to compel the web visitor to not just ask, but to
beg that someone go get Jeff -- but rather because I am very territorial about the website.
The beautiful thing about someone saying completely wrong in your presence is that, should those listening be open to the veracity of the claim(s), you get to correct the record. Not one to let history down, I corrected the aforementioned record. It went something like this:
It has nothing to do with being territorial. I am not the one that insists on an Internet sales plan that consists of me being compelled to make Internet customers learn my name so that they will be sure to ask for me-- even though eight out of ten customers are online and that at least twenty percent of those are going to be 'stealth customers' who are not going to reveal that they were online because they want to test the floor person to see if they are going to be honest about pricing. You are the ones that want that outdated model. In my world our Internet site would promote the customer experience, show off the inventory, and be supported by well executed social media to build relationships. If I could get paid to be an Internet manager and not a salesperson who can also post pictures of cars and answer emails, I would have a staff well trained to work with the modern consumer and not be intimidated by the level of information they have gathered. You are the ones that made me put my face and name all over the site. That is your model, not mine.
In the end the gods were smiling on me. Joe spoke with me at length. He tried several role playing scenarios to test my skills. We spoke of marketing philosophy. All we needed was an X-Wing Fighter sinking into the bog, and for Joe Webb to be really short, wrinkled, have skin with a green hue and an irregular speech pattern and the scene would have been complete. Oh, and I would have to have had a droid. I've always wanted a droid.
Joe provided our group with an excellent digital marketing strategy. In what I would call his most brilliant decision, he recommended that I be the one responsible for its execution across all four stores. While I would love to claim it was because my Jedi mind tricks were especially effective, it was the breadth of my training and my understanding of Internet marketing for the automotive industry upon which he based his recommendation.
There are jobs we do because homelessness is just simply not appealing and then there are jobs that we cannot wait to get to work to perform. I was firmly in the latter. We were launching five new websites, a brand new CRM tool across all four stores, and developing a network wide Internet marketing process. One of our stores was a metro store with a high lead volume, one was my old Chevrolet franchise that was currently understaffed and about to go under a major renovation, one was the dying ground of the old school behemoths, and one was a Chrysler franchise that we had just acquired and were going to be thus starting from scratch. If I had to pick a dream job, this would have been it.
While visions of sugarplums danced in my head, all with well placed calls to action and perfectly worded SEO text, the other managers were busy having nightmares about some some slovenly Internet geek coming in and making them slash their prices and providing customers with complimentary legal counsel to buffer the effects of their best closers. The real issue boiled down to what typically mires down progress: no communication.
After several months of wondering why my life involved putting out plenty of fires yet never any strategic planning, goal setting, or anything productive among the managers I discovered that while everyone had signed off on doing "Internet stuff" no one really knew or understood my job description. In addition, from the start of our transition sales were down from last year. With no data to help find links to possible causes, the stores resorted to what had worked for them for years: blame.
The first to go was Joe Webb. Since he had proposed a plan for them and given us his templates for his CRM tool there was no need to keep paying for him to help implement it, right? Of course, these ruminations began circulating right about the point in his method where he would begin reviewing how well the various agents and stores were following the process, but I am sure that was coincidental. At any rate, he was an expense and since sales were down and his presence threatened scrutiny he must go. Besides, the managers were sure that no one knew the strengths and weaknesses of their respective staffs like they did. Hell, we don't need no stinkin' data!
I had started this new position on the promise that my income would match last years and that additional incentives would be added based on growth. Though I firmly believed that my income was not near what someone with my talents and experience should be making I knew that a well executed digital marketing plan would result in significant growth, so I trusted that the bonus structure should be more than enough to bridge the gap. Plus after one year of solid results, I could ask the grateful council to revisit compensation! What could go wrong?
It should come as no surprise at this point that my leap of faith did not result in some great reward. You see, as quickly as I would get one store finally focused on a portion of their digital objective such as actually using the CRM tool or making the first outbound call in a timely manner, one of the other stores would start questioning why they have to pay me. Why is this whole plan even necessary? Can't we do this ourselves in our own way? When I would address their concerns and get them focused, one of the other stores that had been working toward its digital objectives would begin to buck the plan. To make matters worse, I was being paid
less than what I had made prior and talk of addressing that plus a bonus structure kept getting put off.
After six months of working tirelessly to get some measurable progress to calm the naysayers one of the owners finally agreed to address the pay issue. I was very grateful. You see, for all my love of modern marketing I still hold to traditional values. I take men at their word and trust that hard work will be rewarded. The news was not well received by the general managers. Because expenses affected their bonus structure no one wanted more expenses, but I think even worse than that was the fact that I would be reporting directly to the owners. The constant refrain of "who is going to monitor Jeff to make sure he is working" (someday buy me a beer and listen to my rant about my work ethic vs. that of these guys) was answered. I would report to the ownership. That meant, too, that my reports would not be filtered.
One week after asking one of the general managers rather poignantly how power plays and petty boardroom tactics were going to be more helpful than a good working relationship based on communication, well defined roles, and a cooperative focus on our goals one of the owners greeted me with some stunning news: we needed to explore an exit strategy. Three of the managers had revolted. I was unnecessary. They were fully capable of running their own Internet marketing plan just like they had never done up this point. The owners had given up.
I am not going to try to understand why the decision was made to abandon the large sums of money spent on launching this initiative. I am not going to speculate why the tail wagged the dog, as it seemed. It is their network of stores, their prerogative. The owner who broke the news was extremely gracious. He offered to personally speak to anyone who was interested in me and tell them of my talents and reassure them that the issue was with their network of stores not being ready for this sort of cooperative initiative. He would network for me to find a new placement. I was very grateful, but I could not wrap my head around the fact that my position was being eliminated after I had executed my duties very, very well.
So here I am. I have a great skill set, an insightful and analytical mind, creative talents and an insatiable passion for marketing. I do not have an object for my affection, though. I have no mission. I have exhausted myself pushing the rock of doubt up the hill only to be asked to let it tumble backward.
"We must imagine Sisyphus happy", so said Albert Camus in his existential treatise called The Myth of Sisyphus. In
it Camus expounds his philosophy of "revolt" against the absurdity of life. I am not quite sure if the time I spent hoping that I could convince my former colleagues and superiors that we could prosper with a well executed digital marketing strategy was naivete or absurdity. It certainly seems absurd to have believed that I could convince them that I could help them do it. But I leave knowing that I possess a wealth of talent, experience, and the gift from God of a sharp, creative mind. I was always open, direct, and trying to work cooperatively while staying true to the tasks assigned me. In the end, though, exists the stinging reality that I am home and they are still there.
I leave Sisyphus at the foot of the mountain! One always finds one's burden again. But Sisyphus teaches the higher fidelity that negates the gods and raises rocks. He too concludes that all is well. This universe henceforth without a master seems to him neither sterile nor futile. Each atom of that stone, each mineral flake of that night filled mountain, in itself forms a world. The struggle itself toward the heights is enough to fill a man's heart. One must imagine Sisyphus happy. [Albert Camus. "The Myth of Sisyphus." http://www.sccs.swarthmore.edu/users/00/pwillen1/lit/msysip.htm]
This blog begins as I begin my search for what is next. Hopefully I will find an organization who wants to move forward, to dominate their market, to own their place on the web and in their industry. I may find a place wherein I can not only once again unchain my muse but also work to develop an elite Internet sales force that spoils the grading curve for lesser organizations.
In the meantime I intend to share thoughts, ideas, and insights here -- a living resume, if you will. Perhaps it will prove a valuable resource for people. At the very least, these posts will serve as a creative outlet as well as helping me to continue to remain an active participant in the ever changing landscape of Internet marketing. You may even find it entertaining. At least I hope so.
You can find more about me on LinkedIn. You can also email me at: jeff.novak1967@gmail.com.
.gif.jpg)
