After breakfast, I was finally making progress on my new course for freelancers when—
“When are you going to call Verizon?”
Nhu, my wife, peered over the top of my laptop screen, voice laced with the kind of patience that wasn’t really patience at all.
“After I finish this module,” I muttered, eyes glued to the screen.
That wasn’t good enough.
Nhu leaned in closer. Laptop shut. Typing, in vain, on the keyboard beneath the lid.
“You said you’d call yesterday after lunch.”
Closer.
“And last week before we went to the beach.”
Inches away. Hands yanked free from the Lenovo-branded bear trap.
“And the week before that, now that I think about it.”
I sighed, met her gaze, and admitted defeat.
“OK, I’ll call them! Just give me back my computer.”
Satisfied, Nhu gave me the classic I’m watching you finger jab before retreating to the bedroom—where, I suspected, she’d text me every ten minutes for a status update.
Fine. I’d call Verizon. Just let me finish this paragraph—
KNOCK KNOCK.
I dragged myself to the front door, grumbling at nobody in particular.
Peeped through the peephole.
And there, standing on my porch, was…
A Verizon sales rep?
How fortunate. And suspicious.
I cracked open the door like I expected an arrest warrant.
The Art of the Hard Sell
“Good morning! Are you Nicholas Bandy!?”
The rep practically shrieked with max-level friendliness.
“I’m your local Verizon field representative, and I was just in the area because I know a lot of people nearby have been complaining about their Xfinity speeds. Have you experienced any of that?”
I glanced back at my laptop. Half-finished module. My morning, slipping away.
Still, I played along.
“Funny you mention that. I was literally about to call you guys.”
Her face lit up like a rebooted WiFi router.
“Makes sense, makes sense! Well, do you mind if I show you some of the deals we have right now?”
Sure, why not? What a coincidence, though.
“What, do you guys go around slashing Xfinity’s cables with garden shears?”
Buffering… reconnecting…
“Oh noooooo! Definitely not! Ha ha…” She flipped a tablet my way, eager to close.
“OK, so how does this sound? I can get you guys a whole gigabyte of data for $89.99 a month, PLUS a year of HBO+ and Netflix, make sense?”
I squinted at the tablet. Pretty sure that was the same price on Verizon’s website.
Where’s my exclusive deal, Verizon?
I glanced back at her and hesitated. I was going to do this anyway.
“I’ll give you a call later—I’m in the middle of something.”
But she wasn’t letting me go that easy.
“Makes sense! But then I won’t get my commission, so what we can do is just go ahead and…”
Tablet. In my face.
“…just go ahead and put in your payment info here and get you taken care of. Make sense?”
Ah, there it was. Pressure selling.
Now I was annoyed.
But what was I going to do? Walk away and start over from scratch with someone else?
She clasped her hands, rocking back and forth as I punched in my credit card info.
Submit.
And…
Error.
“It says credit cards are ineligible for autopay discounts,” I sighed.
She blinked twice before rebooting.
“Ahh, yeah. Makes sense, makes sense! We only give autopay discounts to bank accounts, ‘cause credit card users cancel too often. Make sense?”
No. That does not make sense.
“Wait… but you have no contracts. So I could cancel after a month no matter how I pay?”
“Yep! And you can switch to credit right after signing up. Make sense?”
So I’m just a freebie-chasing scammer now?
“No, that doesn’t make sense.”
I started to shut the door.
One last attempt: “But you’re almost done! You really want to stop now?”
One eye through the door crack.
“Yes.”
Powering down. 🔌
The Seductive Spell of Sunk Cost Fallacy
That was a colossal waste of time.
But also? A lesson.
I broke the sunk cost fallacy.
Sunk cost fallacy is when you feel like you MUST continue doing something just because you’ve already invested time or money into it.
It’s why gamblers keep gambling.
It’s why people stay in bad relationships.
And it’s why sales reps push you into tiny commitments (like chatting for 10 minutes) before asking for the big one (your money).
Think about it—once you’ve spent half an hour talking to a car salesman, are you really going to walk away?
Most people won’t.
Why?
Because it makes you feel stupid. Like you wasted your time. And people don’t want to feel stupid.
But in reality, the smart thing to do is walk away.
How do you do that?
Ask yourself this:
“Would I still be interested in this sales pitch if it had started NOW instead of 30 minutes ago?”
If the answer is no, you know what to do.
Businesses Fall for This Too
Sunk cost fallacy isn’t just a consumer problem.
It’s also why businesses stay in abusive relationships with marketing agencies.
“We’ve already invested $50,000… surely ROI is right around the corner.”
Pro tip: ROI is never right around the corner.
Not unless you find an agency that does things differently.
Or even better—a freelancer who isn’t weighed down by bloated agency bureaucracy.
Funny—I happen to know a guy.
So if you’re a business owner feeling trapped by some playboy marketing agency that only wants one thing from you…
Your money.
I mean… I want your money too.
But in exchange, I’ll make you MORE money.
What a strange concept.
Discover more from my daily marketing tips (unlike Veriza, these actually make sense):
Reconnected,
Nick
