Wear Your Sales Experiences as Badges Of Honor

February 8th, 2010

Last summer I learned a variable lesson from my son Bennett.  Bennett is my 8 year old who races quarter midgets.  A quarter midget is an open wheel race car that races on oval tracks by kids ages 5 to 16. It is a highly competitive sport and has the traditional inherent dangers associates with racing.

During a race, Bennett was in a heated battle for first place when coming out of the first turn and into second, he locked wheels with his rival.  Before I could realize what was happening, I was bearing witness to my son flipping end-over-end and being struck by multiple cars that were being collected into the accident. My hear t dropped and I found myself temporary frozen in a state of shock and disbelief.  I didn’t know what to do except run onto the track and aid my son.

Panic raced inside my head as I saw my son’s car come to rest upside down and against the retaining wall.  As I ran to my 8 year old, I felt like I was running in slow motion but my thoughts were traveling at the speed of light.  I pictured my son crying and gasping for air, I pictured something broken or worse yet, him being unconscious.  The track EMT’s arrived first holding his neck as others uprighted the car.

As Bennett’s car was rubber side down once more, he and I made eye contact as he asked a question only a true competitor would ask, “Dad how’s my car?”Even though I was still shaking, I was relieved and eager to survey his car and give him his answer. After his violent crash, the only damage he sustained was some bent sheet metal, 2 flat tires and 1 bent rim.  After repairs to the car, Bennett re-started the race from last place and finished 4^th.

Once the race had finished, B-man (Bennett’s nickname) exited his car and wanted to see the damage.  What I didn’t know, that as Bennett was violently flipping, his helmet came in contact with the concrete track.  To a father’s already shaken paternal instinct, my heart once more took a deep dive into my stomach as I saw deep gouges in my son’s helmet.

Never have I seen my son as proud as he was when he saw his blemished helmet.  He looked at me and said, “Dad, I am now a racer!”  To my son, his marred helmet was a testament to his experience and what he had lived through.  It was a battle scar, a personal victory for all to see.

The lesson I learned that day was not to let recent adversity affect the now—jump back in and run the race. Also, wear your experience for all to see as though they are badges of honor.  When people buy from me, they buy my experience not my knowledge; they buy my failures, not my successes.  They buy my scars not an untarnished image that I want to portray.  So thank you Bennett for teaching your father a lesson in humility and fortitude.

Paul Lushin

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