Hartz Method (eBook)

A Sales Performance Playbook

Jason Hartz (Autor)

eBook Download: EPUB

2023 | 1. Auflage
273 Seiten
Bookbaby (Verlag)
979-8-218-28879-2 (ISBN)

Infos

After Transitioning away from stand-up comedy, Jason Hartz gravitated toward a different kind of performance: sales. Jason quickly realized that entertainers and salespeople have a lot in common, and those overlaps gave him a competitive edge. Fortunately, you don't need to drop everything and head to your local open mic to experience that same success. The Hartz Method is a holistic approach to sales that serves as a complete guide for both newbies and veterans alike. Without ever stepping foot on stage, you can master the art of selling using he proven sales-as-performance methodology that catapulted Jason to the top of multiple industries and Fortune 500 companies. Forget about whatever did or didn't happen in your sales history up to now. The Hartz method will ensure you're ready when it's time to take the stage. Your set is coming up. Let's prepare.

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30 years in the making, the Hartz Method was born from Jason's days as stand-up comedian and actor in Los Angeles all the way to present day employment consulting for Fortune 500 companies. Learn multiple tactics and dedicated mindset in order to grow your business by integrating Jason's proven methods. Multiple topics that many beginner and seasoned sellers are addressed throughout the book. Successful cold calling, email creation, value messaging, voicemail strategy, video prospecting, setting firm expectations with prospects and propelling stalled deals are just a few of the topics discussed. Jason weaves his years of stand up, entrepreneurship and consulting into relevant stories making the his method consumable and engaging.

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Introduction

In the Spotlight
 

When I least expected it, I got my big break. A comic was late, and The Comedy Store manager frantically asked me to take the stage, desperate to fill time. And I do mean desperate: it was New Year’s Eve, the biggest comedy club money-making night of the year, and I worked the ticket booth. If any other comic were standing upright on Sunset Boulevard, they would’ve been chosen over me.

 

But they weren’t.

 

After years of shoveling shit to break into the comedy scene, I would finally get my five minutes on stage — and not just any stage: arguably the most famous comedy stage in the world. For decades, The Comedy Store has been a sort of dysfunctional artists’ commune, discovering and developing incredible comedic talent, from Jim Carrey to Roseanne Barr. In an attempt to step onto the stage that could make or break performers and which hosted every comedian I admired, I was willing to do whatever it took to bide my time and wait for my break. For years, I sold everything from tickets to cigarettes at The Comedy Store, worked both the bar and the back door (to keep people from sneaking in), and was Mitzi Shore’s assistant. Mitzi was the owner, Pauly Shore’s mother, and the woman infamously dubbed the “Queen of Comedy,” due to her ability to launch the careers of would-be stars. By New Year’s Eve 1996, the only position I hadn’t filled was comedian.

 

And yet, it wasn’t my talent and hard work that earned me the spot on that stage. Like many opportunities in life, the moment was a mix of luck and right place/right time kismet. So while one comedian’s misfortune (with a little help from the LA traffic gods) was the catalyst that finally got me on stage, it was my preparation and perseverance that allowed me to capitalize on that moment once it arrived.

 

That night, the house was packed and the room was tough. The audience relished in that reputation. The format offered short sets by up-and-coming talent and headline comedians alike, where everyone tried out new material and the audience didn’t hold back. Back then, the air was thick with stale smoke, and the cheap cocktail mixers left a sticky layer on every surface. The sparse, all-black room with black booths, curtains, and vinyl walls reinforced the austerity. This comedy club was no laughing matter.

 

The headliner that night was Andrew Dice Clay. In the 1980s, he was the first comedian to sell out Madison Square Garden three nights in a row. He was brash and controversial, and his refusal to self-censor earned him a lifetime ban from MTV. But his popularity persisted, making him one of the most divisive comedians of his time.

 

It was my job to give the headliner “the light” when they had five minutes to wrap up their set. I shone the white neon star at Dice, only to realize the next act was nowhere to be found. He stretched a while, but the tension mounted behind the scenes.

 

When the frazzled manager approached me to go on stage, nerves weren’t an option. There simply wasn’t time. After three years of unpaid grunt work, all in the hope that my name would someday be painted in white on the building with the other Comedy Store legends, I finally took the stage in my Comedy Store t-shirt.

 

Following Andrew Dice Clay would’ve been daunting in any circumstance, but without advance notice, after he absolutely destroyed the room on the most hyped night of the year? Unthinkable.

 

The muscle memory of hundreds of five-minute sets performing at coffee houses and Sunday night potlucks kicked in, and I went into autopilot. While my previous performances weren’t high-profile, they were challenging in their own right. I regularly competed with cappuccino machines and hecklers alike, so I didn’t expect a warm and fuzzy welcome. By this point in the night, the audience was at its peak (a.k.a. smashed drunk). It was New Year’s Eve and everyone was going big — with equally large expectations for their entertainment.

 

Yes, the stage was bigger and the audience more hyped than my usual gigs. Yes, there were possibly talent bookers in the audience. But, ultimately, I knew the mechanics were the same: a set is always a set. This was make or break, and I wasn’t about to blow the opportunity.

 

That was 25 years ago. I still remember Dice calling my name. The walk to the stage. The anticipatory applause. The deafening hum as I stepped to the mic. The blurry silhouettes of the first three rows. My improvised first joke lobbed at Dice (“Does that guy talk to his mother that way?”), with my best Dice imitation. It was the largest laugh I’d ever gotten — or at least that’s how it felt. I knew from those opening seconds that I was in the clear. The audience was with me.

 

And then the thing comedians dream about happened: An applause break. Multiple, actually.
 

For a comedian, an applause break is like a surfer catching a 60-foot wave and riding it for 20 minutes. Most comics can get laughs, but only top performers get applause breaks. That’s the drug, the mythic moment we are willing to sacrifice anything to achieve. The self-induced torture, the endless hustling, the commitment to keeping a set fresh…just in case — it’s all worth it, just for the chance at those few fleeting moments on stage and the reverberations of an applause break that can carry you to the next gig.

 

I finished my set to the loudest, rowdiest applause I would ever get on stage. The approval from an audience is one thing; the approval from other comedians is next level. I earned my fellow comedians’ respect that night, marked by the “great set” seal of approval from several of my more esteemed peers as I descended the stage and made my way back to reality in the ticket booth.

 

To Dice, it was just another night, and I feel confident those audience members don’t remember me. But that night, I was at the top of my game.

 

*      *      *
 

Now, you may be wondering why — given my cinematic star turn, crushing it in the toughest room on the heels of the biggest name — you haven’t seen me headlining around the country or added my comedy special to your Netflix queue? Well, ultimately, that night didn’t lead to a big breakthrough on the comedy scene. I didn’t get a three-picture deal at Paramount or become a paid regular on the circuit. Demonstrating talent in show business does not always lead to breakout success — I’m not the first or the last person to come to terms with that hard truth.

 

I rode the comedy wave a bit longer, but after nine years in Hollywood, the appeal of a life in stand-up began to wane. The wins stopped mounting and the periodic highs simply weren't enough to sustain me (or my bank account). Making people laugh in dark rooms is magical, but it’s a grind. The longer I stayed in the game, the worse my attitude and performances became. I grew creatively stagnant. The lifestyle wore me down and bitterness set in as I saw others rise above me without “paying their dues.”

 

Sure, there was a chance that if I stayed on that path just a few more years, something would hit. But as I turned 30, I reassessed both my talent and my life values. Turns out, money matters. I wanted a house — not a one-bedroom rental in West Hollywood, a block from The Viper Room, where River Phoenix died on the sidewalk of an overdose. I wanted to take vacations — beyond crossing the 405 for a day on Venice Beach. I wanted nice things. I wanted a family. A life in stand-up was not delivering on any of the things I prioritized as a person.

 

As I transitioned away from performing on stages, I gravitated toward a different kind of performance: sales. Entertainers and salespeople have more in common than you might realize.

 

Audience members and sales prospects are both skeptics. Will I like this person? Are they worthy of my time? What’s in it for me?

 

Selling and performing are transactional. Time, attention, and resources are exchanged, and value is constantly assessed.

 

The performer and salesperson must skillfully navigate the tension between the three Cs: (projecting) confidence, (establishing) credibility, and (maintaining) control.

 

Much like my impromptu debut on The Comedy Store stage, most salespeople get five minutes (or mere seconds) to win over their prospect. Rapport is everything. Humility sells. You’re rewarded for dressing the part. You can’t plan for everything, but you can work from a script and refine your improvisation skills. You never win over every audience; sometimes you need to just close it out and move onto the next room.

 

It didn’t take long for me to connect the dots between performing and selling. The mechanics of the two are surprisingly similar, so I started to experiment with what and how I would apply these skills.

 

During my time in LA, I exercised outside year round and discovered a passion for fitness. So when it was time to transition from stand-up to a “steady day job,” I turned to fitness. I approached Kim, a girl from my acting class, who’d recently been certified as a personal trainer. She was making $50-70 an hour. I was making $50 dollars a...

Produkt-Details

• Erscheint lt. Verlag: 10.11.2023
• Sprache: englisch
• Themenwelt: Wirtschaft ► Betriebswirtschaft / Management ► Marketing / Vertrieb
• ISBN-13: 979-8-218-28879-2 / 9798218288792