Battery Cables and Behavior Change

I had just finished a speaking assignment for a lively group of safety professionals who asked me to speak about behavior change. After the meeting, I slid into the front seat of my car, put the key in the switch and turned it, convinced that I was about to hear that good old V8 rumble to life — a top-ten favorite PIC (positive, immediate and certain consequence) in my life.

However, this time the positive consequence didn't occur. “Dang!” I said. “Dead battery.”

Next, I did a hasty root-cause analysis in my brain to determine why and how this had happened. Oh yeah, I had plugged my laptop into the cigarette lighter to juice it up so I could finish a live, hour-long webinar with another company before my speaking engagement. Who'd have thought a laptop could suck that much juice out of a car battery that fast?

It can, and it did.

My first call was to roadside assistance. Then I remembered the battery cables in my trunk. I looked around and saw a guy pulling out of his parking space. By the looks of things, he was a repairman just finishing his lunch break. I walked over, told him of my predicament, and asked, “Would you mind giving me a boost?”

The look on his face went from apprehension to a smile. Then this nice guy pulled his truck up to my car and we connected the cables, using the appropriate safety technique I had learned at the ripe old age of 17 from Mr. Jones, a teacher who also had described to me what it was like to have a car battery explode on you. (That mental image stuck with me — a very good antecedent.)

In short order, my V8 sprang back to life as good as ever! I felt very grateful to the repair guy. I wanted to give something back to him.

And that's where I went wrong.

I shook the man's hand and gave him $5 cash. It was all the cash I had, and it was all I could think of at the time. I was grateful to him and I figured it was better than nothing. The smile that had appeared on his face after helping me became ever so slightly muted, an imperceptible change that no one saw but me.

“No, no, I don't need any money,” he said.

I realized immediately that I'd done the wrong thing. I hadn't thought through the impact of this “reinforcer” on this particular individual. But, this whole sequence (just like so many fleeting interactions we have with others) happened in seconds, so it was easy to make a mistake. I had made one nonetheless.

I was in trouble, but I didn't want to totally blow this moment.

THE RIGHT WAY TO RECOGNIZE

And then I remembered my dad and “The Power of the Pen.”

My dad sometimes surprised me and took me out of elementary school to go with him to see clients. These were fun trips where I learned many things about sales methods and techniques. I watched my dad in awe as he spoke with CEOs and business leaders, helping them develop recognition solutions.

For a second, I flashed back to being on the Delta plane with Dad on one of those trips. I recalled with fondness the stewardesses and pilots who “back in the day” dressed up and looked so professional. I remembered the stewardess smiling at me and handing me my own plastic captain's wings lapel badge.

My dad smiled back at her and thanked her. He reached into his bag and pulled out a Parker pen in a nice gift box, inscribed with the words, “Thanks for making a difference.” He then told the stewardess how much he appreciated her kindness to me and that this gift was for her, because she had made a difference to him. She beamed and showed the pen to all the other flight attendants. She even moved Dad and me up to first class. Wow!

The memory flashed by in a split second, and here was this guy, with that smile slowly fading away after my goof with the $5 bill.

I smiled at him and said, “Hey, wait a second.” And then I began hurriedly digging through my bag to see if I had any Green Bean pens left from my presentation. (I love green beans and give away pens shaped like that very vegetable at my sessions, but that's another story.)