Optimism is Like a Forest Fire

by Denis Waitley

I'll never forget when I went to get a spare tire at a Firestone Store and happened to walk into a Lincoln-Mercury dealership just to kill some time. I was met by a less-than-optimistic young salesman. "Wanna buy a car?" he asked. "Nope," I replied. "Just looking." "Figures," he said. "Things are going slow with the energy crisis and inflation." I said, "These new Continentals look a little smaller and don't seem to have as much rassmatazz in them anymore." "Well, we have to cut down on weight in order to meet the government's fuel economy guidelines," he complained. I said, "What kind of year are you having?" He replied, "Things are going a little slow." I said, "Any of these cars on the showroom floor for sale?" He said, "Of course, they're all for sale. Are you sure you don't want to buy one?" "Nope," I replied, "I'm just a literature hound." And I walked out.

Being a very curious individual, I decided to go down the interstate to the other Lincoln-Mercury dealership I knew in San Diego. I walked on the showroom floor, only this time, unfortunately for me, I was met by an eternal optimist. This young man met me head-on with a flashing smile, eyes fixed directly on mine, an outstretched hand: "Hi, my name's Stan Smith; what's yours?"

"Ah, my name's Denis Waitley." He beamed and said, "Hi, Denis!" I said, "You can call me Denis if you want to." He said, "You look like a Continental man to me." I said, "No, I'm just looking, I really should be down the street getting a spare tire at Firestone, but I just walked in to take a look around." He replied with a wink, "Oh, you wouldn't waste your time just looking around, not a man like you. You're here to buy, I can tell."

Unnerved a little, I decided to catch him off guard. "What kind of year are you having?" I said, "Things a little tough?" He said, "I'm having my most fantastic year; this is my best year ever." I was quick to reply, "It's only January." But he came back with, "Well, it's my first year in the car business." I said, "Any of these cars for sale on the showroom floor?" He said, "They're all sold, sir; we put them on the showroom floor, polish them up, and send them out the door." He said, "Yours is on the back lot."

He said, "Do you like the silver one, with the black top? Or do you like the all black?" I said, "You're not going to get me with those alternate sales-closing techniques," I said. "Of course, I'm not buying. But if I were buying, I'd buy the silver with the black top." He said, "Do you like the leather or the velour upholstery?" I said, "I'm just looking, but if I were going to get one, I'd get the silver, with the black top, the leather upholstery, and the digital clock."

I reminded him again I was just looking and he complimented me on coming in at such an opportune time because this was going to be his first sale of the night. He said, "You'll be glad you bought from me, because I'll give you the best service you've ever had. Whenever you want to come in and bring your car for service, which will be very seldom because it'll run like a dream, I'll get you in at 7:30 in the morning and get you right out. I know how busy a man like you is. How would you like to pay for it? Would you like to give me a small down payment, or a check, or one of your business cards and . . . you can take it with you if you want.

" Weakening, but not giving in, I came back with my last and final objection. I said, "Well, I can't buy tonight. A purchase of a Continental that substantial would require at least a call or check with my wife, because I usually like to include her on purchases this size." He came back, smiled, and said, "Oh, I thought you were the kind of man that didn't have to check with your wife for every little thing." My eyes narrowed and I replied coldly, "I don't have to check with her for anything." When I got home that night, I told my wife the story of how I'd met another one of those incurable optimists and she exclaimed, "Oh no, I hope you got the new spare tire that you went down to Firestone for!" I retorted proudly, "Yeah, I have got four tires parked right out front. Wait until you see it; it's a dream!"

It's the amazing and sometimes painful truth that people shy away from negative, pessimistic, unbelieving losers. They gravitate to positive, self-assured optimistic winners. Optimism is like a forest fire: you can smell it for miles before you see it burning. Optimism is like flypaper: you can't help getting stuck to it.

Adapted from The Winner's Edge © 1980 by Denis E. Waitley