What I Learned From Two Turkish Salesmen

We ambled through the cobblestoned streets of Antalya, Turkey. The sun was sinking into the mountain horizon, and shopkeepers were beginning to close up for the evening. Not in a hurry to return to our hotel, my friends and I took our time navigating the way back through this fairy tale city. We had just descended a set of stone stairs that led from the main street down to a small alleyway when we caught the attention of a pair of shopkeepers. “Come try some Ottoman Delight!” the older man of the two called out to us. Their shop was small and simple, a booth stuffed with hand crafted candies and a plethora of powdered tea mixes. We stuck out our hands like eager children to accept our free samples of Ottoman Delight. The moment I bit into the sticky, pink, pistachio-coated gelatin, I was entranced by the combination of texture and flavor. When they knew we were hooked, the twinkly-eyed man and his soft-spoken son offered us each a cup of hot tea. This wasn’t ordinary tea, they explained. This was tea with the power to make life better. They had a tea blend for everything—better health, a sharper mind, a more robust love life. We knew better than to depend on a hot drink for those things, but we were enamored by these peddlers and their passion for the products they sold. They invited us to sit down at the small tables set up in front of their shop and beamed with pride as they explained that theirs was a family trade. The tea blends and the Ottoman Delight were arts passed from generation to generation. Their enthusiasm was contagious, and we happily lingered there in the alleyway long after the sun had set just to keep chatting with these charming Turkish shopkeepers. At the end of the night, we all purchased at least one treat to take home, but we left with much more: lives made a little richer by a happenstance encounter.

Over the next few days I learned that Ottoman Delight was not special to that particular shop. I found it all over Antalya, and it was called simply “Turkish Delight.” These clever entrepreneurs had given their Turkish Delight a new name to boost sales, and it was clearly working. But it wasn’t just this shrewd marketing tactic that earned them my business. I had plans to purchase a box of Turkish Delight before I ever set foot in Turkey. I was going to buy it from someone, and I chose to buy it from these two, because I had a connection with them. While we were lured in by free samples of something called “Ottoman Delight,” we chose to stay for nearly an hour, because we enjoyed chatting with the shopkeepers and wanted to hear their story. They took the time to cultivate a relationship that went beyond buyer and seller. As someone severely lacking in the art of sales, I learned something from those Turkish salesmen that day. As human beings, we long for connection. Even when it comes to business, we are all, whether conscious or subconsciously, looking for connection.

As a copywriter, I never want my clients or their clients to feel like they are just a means to an end: a walking dollar sign. I want them to feel like they are seen and understood. That’s why I call myself a storyteller before a copywriter. I want to write copy that sells, but I also want to tell a story that fosters a sense of connection with potential clients. Because connection is what cultivates relationship, and relationship carries far more potential and value than a sale alone.