Apparently Girls Drink Tea

Dottie and June were sisters, had never married, and were still living in the house they grew up in when we met. They had worked for the same company for forty years and were finally both retiring. I had been referred to them by an employee from their company, a male coworker to whom they often turned for advice. 

They needed help with retirement planning and called me for guidance.

In our very first meeting, we connected instantly. They welcomed me to their kitchen table and offered me a cup of tea. The pot was already steeping on the stove. 

We sipped tea together as I asked them questions for the next ninety minutes. They were very forthcoming with their information and shared their goals were to roll over their 401(k) plans, understand their social security options, and determine if they should buy long-term care insurance. 

The sisters were witty and sharp. I was excited to work with them on their financial plan.

A week later, I returned to their house. They preferred 3:00 p.m. meetings because they both took afternoon naps. My tea was already poured, and I took my seat at the kitchen table. I had spent a lot of time working on their plan and was excited to present what I thought were very straightforward recommendations. 

Dottie asked the questions. June took the notes for the two of them. They both paid attention to the details and nodded during each recommendation as though it all made sense to them. 

At the end of our meeting, they said they’d like to think about everything, and they asked me to come back the following week. I agreed.

I returned to their home for our third meeting. We proceeded to have the exact same conversation we had the week before. They confirmed they understood the reasons for my recommendations. They wanted to understand what the process would look like if they applied for long-term care insurance and how it would work to have me manage their investments. I walked them through all the forms and thoroughly answered all their questions. At the end of the meeting, they said they were not ready to fill out the paperwork and asked me to come back in a week.

I had three of these same meetings with no signs of implementation. 

The following week, I brought this dilemma to my colleagues at our Monday morning planning meeting. I confidently presented the facts of the case, reviewed Dottie and June’s goals, and shared all my recommendations. My colleagues nodded throughout my presentation as though they agreed with all of it. 

I asked if anyone had any advice for me on how to encourage Dottie and June to move forward.

Andy was an advisor two years ahead of me in terms of experience, a bit arrogant, and spoke right up. “I’ll tell you what your problem is: You’re a girl.”

I tried not to get immediately offended, but I was. 

Andy saw my face and realized he needed to explain further.

“Look, Amy,” he said, “this isn’t a criticism. It’s a fact. You’re talking with two retired ladies who’ve never been married. They got referred to you by a man at work. Before that, they probably took advice from their father. They trust advice from men. They’ll probably never take advice from you because you’re a woman. And you’re also too young for them to take your advice seriously.”

I was both annoyed and intrigued. I kept listening.

“I’m so certain this is true,” claimed Andy, “that I’d be willing to go to the next meeting and present the case exactly the way you did. How much do you want to bet they will move forward? I won’t even share in the compensation with you. I just want to prove my point.” 

I was frustrated enough with my lack of success with these clients that I agreed to Andy’s offer.

I called Dottie and June to let them know I’d be bringing my colleague Andy with me. They were happy to have him join me. Andy and I showed up at 3:00 p.m. and entered the kitchen. My cup of tea was in its place. 

But there was no cup for Andy. 

Instead, my clients shook his hand, thanked him for accompanying me to the appointment, and offered him a beer. 

A beer.

We sat together at the table, me sipping my tea and Andy drinking his beer. I gave a brief overview of my recommendations, and then Dottie said she’d like to hear from my boss about what he thinks. My boss. Andy smiled warmly, told them that he had reviewed my recommendations, and he thought they were great. 

He then reached out, put his hand on each of their hands across the table, and said, “If you were my grandmother, this is exactly what I would advise you to do.” 

And I kid you not, with no hesitation, Dottie and June immediately and enthusiastically agreed to move forward with all the paperwork. We completed the meeting in under thirty minutes—not ninety minutes, two cups of tea, and no action. 

There was nothing Andy said in the meeting that I had not already said in all of my previous conversations with them.

Turns out, he was right.

This was a pivotal moment in my career. I would never have come to this same conclusion if Andy hadn’t given me such direct feedback. Even though I was totally prepared for the meeting and clear in all my communication, I failed to understand my audience. 

How often do we get caught up in our presentations, our recommendations, and our analyses—but fail to recognize that none of it matters if we do not know our audience? 

In hindsight, I should have asked: Is there anyone you typically go to for advice regarding important financial decisions? 

This was a humbling experience for me. To this day, I still appreciate my colleague Andy’s insight. And I learned a valuable lesson: Sometimes, being humble can be more powerful than simply being knowledgeable.