I was recently hired for a job that taught me a lot about what work means. My position was sales representative for a tech company that sold products to churches. Specifically, I was hired to sell an application designed to help churches build a tithing and engagement platform for mobile devices. Every morning I would come in to the office around 6:30, place calls until lunch, call for another hour, and finish up by prospecting the leads I was given until I headed home.
What follows is some of what I learned from calling churches, on a daily basis, to try to get them to buy our product.
The first thing I learned was to have a reason for why you are on the phone. No one talks to a stranger without a reason. On the street this can be as simple as asking for the time, but the phone is disembodied, so there is an immediate wall to climb to keep the client on the line. I learned that if you do your research, you can clear this wall with ease. I once began a call by saying, “I am calling because I know churches experience a ‘summer slump’ and I see on your website you have a lot of outreach events geared to help fight this slump. Our company specializes in community engagement. We are primed to help you thrive in this historically tough season. Have you heard of us?” I was taught by my trainers that phone calls are boxing matches, and questions are punches. You want to throw the first punch so that the client will respond.
Another thing I learned: The church is a human institution. My third training call was, I thought, going excellently. I talked to the receptionist and got put through to the head pastor. (Getting past reception—or as my trainer would call it, the gatekeepers—is a hard task in itself). After I heard the pastor’s pleasant hello at the end of the line, I gave my reason for calling and was ready to hear how the church was doing. Dead silence. I thought I’d lost the connection. After several moments, I listened to about fifteen seconds of being called a snake, and a few other things, profanities peppered among the epithets, before being hung up on. I learned that pastors, apparently, have no more care for salespeople than anyone else. I decided I needed to humanize myself: On the rest of my calls the first thing I mentioned after saying hello was my history as a youth pastor. I never got cursed at again.
I also learned to read the different audiences I worked with. Because denominations are different, they should be treated differently. The Methodist church is going through a schism over how to treat the LGBTQA+ community. The Church of God and the Church of Christ couldn’t be more different from each other. Baptist apparently change their views on baptism depending on whether they are below Kentucky. I felt like I had to meet each group where it was if I were going to make any sales. Wikipedia was surprisingly useful in this regard. I also asked friends from different backgrounds. My best call happened when a pastor told me he had to hang up for a meeting and I responded with a joke a Methodist friend told me in college: “Pastor I hear that. I know when God created the United Methodist church God created meetings. Can I call you back?” I got the sale later that day.
Finally, I learned that pastors aren’t in it for the money, mostly. If you talk about how much money you will save the church, or how much time you’ll save, a pastor will hang up on you. Pastors care about the story. Pastors and their staff appear happy to spend an extra twenty hours a week working if they feel it reaches their flock the right way. An example was given to me by a co-worker, who told me about the following exchange. He was talking to a potential client about our engagement platform:
“One of our main features is that we give your church an app that they can use for any and all updates you post about the church—sermon notes, ministry times, upcoming events.”
“Betty does all of that in our newsletter,” the pastor said plainly.
“But you can upload the entire newsletter into the app to save time, and have it reach more people without wasting paper.”
“No, we like sending it on paper. It has a more personal feel. The Bible is on paper after all!”
No sale.
My co-worker then told me he could have done more to help land the pastor’s business, perhaps through learning more about Betty by simply giving her a call. Did she really like writing the newsletter? What makes putting it on paper so special? By getting answers to questions like these, my co-worker could offer an even greater personal, and Christian, touch to his work. If you can get a sense of the staff’s feelings, and understand their vision, you can sell the pastor on the narrative elements contained in that information. Maybe Betty is worn out by the inefficient practices of old-school paperwork!
In summary, what I learned were the following principles for selling to churches:
– Have a reason ready for the calls you make. If God told you this church needs your help then say so on the phone.
– Churches are filled with humans who have bad and good days. You can’t always expect Christian warmth and hospitality.
– Understand the different denominations and sympathize with their struggles. Speak their language and they will sign up for your service.
– Learn and share the stories of the churches you sell to.
Following these principles can make you a lot of money. The top guys at the company made near or above six figures. Watching them work showed me it was possible.
I was brought in because I gave an exceptional interview. I was told I gave the funniest interview the company ever had. I excelled in the training, both the mock calls and live calls with low-priority leads. At one point, other trainees lined themselves up in the room where I worked to hear one of my mock calls in order to learn how I did it. I enjoyed the fast-paced, bustling atmosphere: Ten salesmen in a row of desks, with one row behind me and another in front of me. I felt talented and supported. The company directed that talent towards a possibly lucrative sales career.
But I couldn’t do it. I quit the day after I finished my two-week-long training. Maybe I could have been one of those top guys in a year or two, but the promise of that much money honestly scared me.
I have nothing against money, nor against selling things to a church, but to use my history in ministry and the love I had, and still have, for that life so that I could make sales felt dirty. In my short time with the company, I worked with a lot of Christians, and a lot of non-Christians, too. (There was no statement of faith employees needed to sign.) Hearing Christians use memories from childhood VBS to clinch a call, and hearing non-believers quote scripture with vigor and theological gravity despite having no belief in what they said, showed me a side of capitalism I hadn’t known existed.
The day before I left, I talked to my manager, who has a master of divinity degree. I asked how he lives with the job he has, managing salesmen trading in faith. He said he advises people not to use scripture in their calls. He knew it happened, but he was not a fan of the practice. He then said that if you were a Christian working here you needed to be an active church member. I asked why, to that specific point.
“It helps you learn how to talk to pastors and other Christians. It’s good training.”
He went silent after he said this, looking disappointed.
[Photo by Berkeley Communications on Unsplash]
