By Ken Ihedioha
What our ancestors understood about sales, leadership, and emotional intelligence — long before it had a name.
In the culture that raised me, emotional intelligence was never merely a corporate competency. It was a way of life.
We were taught to remain calm under provocation, to weigh our words carefully, and to exercise enough restraint that even when defending ourselves, we did not unnecessarily hurt others.
It is an exacting discipline.
And perhaps nowhere is it more valuable today than in sales.
Because sales is, fundamentally, a business of people.
You will be challenged. You will be rejected. You will be ignored. A customer will misunderstand you. A competitor will undercut you. A colleague will frustrate you. A negotiation will go badly.
And in each of those moments, your emotional intelligence may matter more than your sales technique.
In the culture that nurtured me, our ancestors were believed never to be truly gone. They remained around us — to protect, guide and, sometimes, warn us.
But their messages were not always obvious.
The wise elder could recognise the signal where another person saw only noise.
That, too, is sales.
The best salesperson in the room is often not the one who talks the most.
It is the one who notices more.
The hesitation in the customer’s voice. The question they didn’t ask. The objection behind the objection. The change in tone. The person sitting quietly at the end of the table. The competitor suddenly mentioned in conversation. The procurement officer who says, “We’ll get back to you.”
There are signals everywhere. Great salespeople learn to read them.
The inexperienced salesperson hears “We’re not ready.” The experienced one asks: “What would need to happen for you to be ready?”
The inexperienced salesperson hears “Your price is too high.” The experienced one asks: “Compared with what?”
The inexperienced salesperson hears “Send me a proposal.” The experienced one wonders: “Is this genuine interest — or a polite way of ending the conversation?”
That is not manipulation. It is discernment. And discernment is one of the great differentiators between selling and merely presenting.
There is another lesson in the ancestral metaphor.
Sometimes, the very thing we instinctively want to chase away may be the thing that has come to teach us.
A difficult customer. A lost deal. A brutal piece of feedback. A competitor who exposes our weakness. A junior colleague who challenges our assumptions. A mentor whose advice makes us uncomfortable.
Don’t chase them away too quickly. Listen. There may be wisdom in the discomfort.
And this is where emotional intelligence becomes commercially powerful.
You don’t have to win every argument. You must win the relationship.
You don’t have to prove that the customer is wrong. You must understand why the customer thinks the way they do.
You don’t have to respond to every provocation. Sometimes the most sophisticated sales response is simply: “Tell me more.”
Because once the conversation becomes about understanding rather than winning, something remarkable happens. Trust begins to replace resistance. And trust is the currency on which enduring sales relationships are built.
Our old school maxim offers a fitting conclusion:
Study hard. Play hard. But keep straight.
In sales, I would translate that as: Know your product. Know your market. Know your customer. Work relentlessly. But above all, keep your character.
Because you can lose a deal and recover. You can lose a customer and win another. You can lose money and make it again. But when trust and character are lost, the cost is far greater.
So perhaps the greatest sales lesson from the wisdom of our elders is this:
Don’t be so busy talking that you fail to hear the message. Don’t be so certain that you fail to learn. And don’t be so eager to win the sale that you lose the relationship.
Sometimes, the voice you most need to hear is the one you were about to dismiss.
Listen. Discern. Respond wisely. Build trust.
And whatever else you do — keep straight.
Century Herald
