I recently finished reading The Duck Commander Family, an autobiography written by Korie and
Willie Robertson of Duck Dynasty
fame. It was interesting.
Korie’s contributions are sweetly vapid. They are written with all the detail of a
Christmas letter and all of the gravitas of a pageant answer. Willie’s writing is much more forthright and
to the point: this happened, this happened next. He only slips into saccharine semantics when
it seems goaded by a publicist, publisher, or his wife. His authenticity is what draws people in, and
fortunately for him, his life has been far-fetched enough that recounting it
without additional commentary or insights is interesting enough to entertain.
Willie talks a lot about business. In the second half it’s mostly about steps he
took to grow Duck Commander as a business.
In the first half, however, he relays salesman skills that were very
apparent even as a child. Willie set up
his own fish bait business that put any lemonade stand to shame. He also had success selling crawfish, and at
one point, an underground candy ring out of his locker that was so successful
the school had to shut the competition down.
“I quit selling candy, but I still found ways to make
money. I sold everything from pencils
and erasers to orange juice tops (which I claimed once sat on Abraham Lincoln’s
eyes!). The kids were just used to
giving me their money, so I found creative ways to take it. I would eat June bugs for fifty cents and
sing on the school bus for a quarter.
One of my favorite money making schemes involved my turning into a human
jukebox. Kids would put quarters under
my arms, and I would start singing.”
It becomes very evident this man has made his way through
life (very successfully) by selling himself, whether it be to business
partners, teachers, winning his wife’s hand in marriage, or just to avoid a
whooping. He talks of swindling as a
youngster, using charm and good looks as a teenager, and ultimately networking
as an adult. He even mentions that if
you want to fit in at the Robertson dinner table, you best be able to tell a
convincing whopper of a story.
Indeed, his prosperity can be attributed to an uncanny
ability to come across so genuine you don’t even realize one hand is in your
pocket. No one markets himself
better. The book (itself an opportunity
to make a dollar by capitalizing on the success of the television show)
contains a family recipe along with each chapter. And each recipe—no matter how simple—calls
for what? Phil Robertson’s Special Cajun
Seasoning: a ploy to lead you to another market the family has assessed there
are dollars to be acquired.
If there is one thing this book has taught me it’s that
business is done with handshakes, not contracts. It’s all about schmoozing, marketing, and hobnobbing,
and those most successful are those who can do so with sincerity. Some people think handshakes are an
old-fashioned thing of the past. But,
even contracts require a hand to sign them.
Best to inspire that hand with a friendly shake.
Contrarily to his wife, Korie—who irons over the wrinkles to
hold up a perfectly pressed family—Willie is so blunt and forward, openly
admitting things and owning the dark spots.
That quality is like a giant, personality handshake. It is so beguiling (to men especially, and
men—especially in the hunting industry—conduct most of the business) it
dissolves away cares that people should maybe hold on to.
He makes people feel like long-time friends and it becomes
difficult for them to remember, or worse, to care, that the behavior beneath
all that charisma is still that of a man who has sat around the family table
and laughed about his ability to pull the wool over peoples’ eyes. Yes, he is charming, gracious, and full of
friendly warmth…but he’s also a man who has Harold Hilled people into buying
trash, tall tales, and a scripted reality series.
It’s a fraudulent world out there. Personally and professionally. While reading this book I mulled and
concluded we’re all salesman. Some more
than others. Some more gregariously than
others. Some more instinctively than
others. But…think about it…you would be
hard pressed (if possible) to find any position or occupation that does not
involve sales/salesmanship. We all sell
ourselves. We all put on a face—whatever
face we need to—and do what it is necessary to get what we want.
At their core I believe the Robertson’s are kind, loving,
good-hearted, wonderful people. But,
simply put, it was fascinating to note how willing people were to do business with
this man even while he concurrently discusses his gift to easily manipulate
them. This book left me with two
reminders that have created this quandary: you can never trust a salesman. We’re all salesman.
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