Excuse Me, but Where Did You Read That? And What Edition Was It?

“Excuse Me, but Where Did You Read That? And What Edition Was It?”

A Blue can rarely get too many facts or have too many pages of fine print. People say that God is in the details, and I can imagine that it was a Blue who first said that.

No detail is too small to be noticed. Cutting corners is simply not an option for a Blue.

“Hold up,” you might say. “Not keeping track of every single tiny detail isn’t really the same thing as cutting corners.” But if you ask a Blue it is. “Not having full control is the same thing as not having any control at all. What do we get by cutting corners? How can you possibly justify it?”

It doesn’t work like that. Tell a Blue that he can ignore the details of the new contract and skip the last thirty paragraphs—there’s nothing important in that bit—and he’ll stare at you very attentively and wonder about your mental capabilities. As usual, he won’t necessarily say anything. He’ll just completely ignore what you said. He would rather burn the midnight oil checking all the facts of the case than miss the slightest detail.

A few years ago, I tried to sell a leadership program to the CEO of a company in the packaging industry. He was Blue; there was no doubting that. His emails were long-winded and a little dry, and for our first meeting he had set aside fifty minutes. Not an hour, not three-quarters of an hour, but fifty minutes. (There was a reason for this: After the meeting he would have lunch, and the dining room was eight minutes away. Plus a visit to the gents for about two minutes. A fifty-minute meeting would get him there right in time.)

The first time we met, he deposited me in a specific chair by a specific corner at the visitors’ desk. He didn’t ask if I had any difficulty getting there—which I did; the address was totally impossible—he offered neither coffee nor tea. He didn’t smile when he greeted me. He examined my business card very carefully.

After going through the company’s needs, I explained that I would go back to my office to put a quote together. Once back at my desk, I brooded about how I should go about it. Normally, my proposals were ten to twelve pages long, but I knew that wouldn’t be sufficient in this case. Instead, I put my nose to the grindstone and wrote over thirty-five pages.

I mailed a hard copy of the quote to him, since for a Blue the written and printed word means much more than the spoken—or digital. After a week or so, I followed the whole thing up with a phone call. They were interesting ideas, the CEO said, but he was ready to go further. Could he now get the full quote?