Yesterday. On a remote island, south-west of Norway.
“Please, please, please. Let me have the red blanket. I’m gonna play with it outside. I promise it won’t get dirty. I promise. Please, please, please.”
She won’t stop.
“Let me have a blanket. The red one. Please, please, please. Yes, I’m gonna play with it outside, but I promise it won’t get dirty. I promise. Please, please, please.”
I turn and stare at her with my big dark eyes, with my mouth closed. It’s working… and then, after the stare, I tell her.
“No! This is the last time I tell you. If you don’t stop, I’ll get really really angry.”
She knows that if she doesn’t stop I will get angry. I will. Well, sometimes. She also knows that if she doesn’t stop she will most likely get the blanket. She continues, “but daaad!”, and 9 out of 10 times she’ll get the blanket and everything else she’s asking for.
That’s why she continues with “but daaad!”
When she starts, I know what’s coming, and I know she won’t stop right away. I know what’s happening, even though I know, I’m not saying yes right away, I’m playing along. I find it interesting, and I’m learning a few things about marketing.
She’s trying new approaches, but always staying with what works.
She’s ending every sentence with the annoying “but daaad!” and she’s referring to the other kids and the other parents (like testimonials).
My daughter is an autoresponder, she’s loaded with prewritten messages, and the messages are all tested and proven to work and she’s getting the results she’s looking for.
The only way she’ll stop sending them is if I “buy whatever she’s selling” or close the door on her (click the unsubscribe link).
The real beauty of the argument is that no matter what I’m saying, it’s like she’s not listening. She’s just throwing her words at me and waiting for the YES! And because the words keep coming, she’ll eventually get the yes. If it’s not working, the next time she’ll use different words and a different approach.
The big NO will only come in 1 out of 10 times (I’m just guessing), and when that happens, she gives me the look (the same as I’m giving her). She continues to stare, and a few minutes later, after she understands that it won’t be a yes this time, and just as I’m about to turn around, without any sound, any sound at all, she vanishes from sight. It’s like she was never even there.
My daughter is only six years old, but she understands that she should be like an autoresponder; she’s just as powerful, just as effective, and she’s testing and staying with what works. She understands that being an autoresponder is the only way she’ll get the red blanket, again and again.
My daughter is not the only one, I bet every kid out there is a real live auto-responder.