Simon and schuster

PRINCIPLE 5 
Talk in terms of the other person’s interests.
 
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9 
 
“HOW TO MAKE PEOPLE LIKE YOU INSTANTLY.”
 
I was waiting in line to register a letter in the post office at Thirty-third Street and Eighth Avenue in 
New York. I noticed that the clerk appeared to be bored with the job—weighing envelopes, handing out stamps, 
making change, issuing receipts—the same monotonous grind year after year. So I said to myself, “I am going 
to try to make that clerk like me. Obviously, to make him like me, I must say something nice, not about myself, 
but about him. So I asked myself, ‘What is there about him that I can honestly admire?’” That is sometimes a 
hard question to answer, especially with strangers; but, in this case, it happened to be easy. I instantly saw 
something I admired no end. 
So while he was weighing my envelope, I remarked with enthusiasm, “I certainly wish I had your head 
of hair.” 
He looked up, half-startled, his face beaming with smiles. “Well, it isn’t as good as it used to be,” he 
said modestly. I assured him that although it might have lost some of its pristine glory, nevertheless it was still 
magnificent. He was immensely pleased. We carried on a pleasant little conversation and the last thing he said 
to me was: “Many people have admired my hair.” 
I’ll bet that person went out to lunch that day walking on air. I’ll bet he went home that night and told 
his wife about it. I’ll bet he looked in the mirror and said, “It is a beautiful head of hair.” 
I told this story once in public and a man asked me afterwards, “What did you want to get out of him?” 
What was I trying to get out of him!!! What was I trying to get out of him!!! 
If we are so contemptibly selfish that we can’t radiate a little happiness and pass on a bit of honest 
appreciation without trying to get something out of the other person in return—if our souls are no bigger than 
sour crab apples, we shall meet with the failure we so richly deserve. Oh yes, I did want something out of that 
chap. I wanted something priceless. And I got it. I got the feeling that I had done something for him without his 
being able to do anything whatever in return for me. That is a feeling that flows and sings in your memory lung 
after the incident is past. 
There is one all-important law of human conduct. If we obey that law, we shall almost never get into 
trouble. In fact, that law, if obeyed, will bring us countless friends and constant happiness. But the very instant 
we break the law, we shall get into endless trouble. The law is this: 
Always make the other person feel 
important. 
John Dewey, as we have already noted, said that the desire to be important is the deepest urge in 
human nature; and William James said, “The deepest principle in human nature is the craving to be 
appreciated.” As I have already pointed out, it is this urge that differentiates us from the animals. It is this urge 
that has been responsible for civilization itself. 
Philosophers have been speculating on the rules of human relationships for thousands of years, and out 
of all that speculation, there has evolved only one important precept. It is not new. It is as old as history. 
Zoroaster taught it to his followers in Persia twenty-five hundred years ago. Confucius preached it in China 
twenty-four centuries ago. Lao-tse, the founder of Taoism, taught it to his disciples in the Valley of the Han. 
Buddha preached it on the bank of the Holy Ganges five hundred years before Christ. The sacred books of 
Hinduism taught it a thousand years before that. Jesus taught it among the stony hills of Judea nineteen centuries 
ago. Jesus summed it up in one thought—probably the most important rule in the world: “Do unto others as you 
would have others do unto you.” 
You want the approval of those with whom you come in contact. You want recognition of your true 
worth. You want a feeling that you are important in your little world. You don’t want to listen to cheap, 
insincere flattery, but you do crave sincere appreciation. You want your friends and associates to be, as Charles 
Schwab put it, “hearty in their approbation and lavish in their praise.” All of us want that. 
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So let’s obey the Golden Rule, and give unto others what we would have others give unto us, How? 
When? Where? The answer is: All the time, everywhere. 
David G. Smith of Eau Claire, Wisconsin, told one of our classes how he handled a delicate situation 
when he was asked to take charge of the refreshment booth at a charity concert, “The night of the concert I 
arrived at the park and found two elderly ladies in a very bad humor standing next to the refreshment stand. 
Apparently each thought that she was in charge of this project. As I stood there pondering what to do, me of the 
members of the sponsoring committee appeared and handed me a cashbox and thanked me for taking over the 
project. She introduced Rose and Jane as my helpers and then ran off. 
“A great silence ensued. Realizing that the cash box was a symbol of authority (of sorts), I gave the box 
to Rose and explained that I might not be able to keep the money straight and that if she took care of it I would 
feel better. I then suggested to Jane that she show two teenagers who had been assigned to refreshments how to 
operate the soda machine, and I asked her to be responsible for that part of the project. 
“The evening was very enjoyable with Rose happily counting the money, Jane supervising the 
teenagers, and me enjoying the concert.” 
You don’t have to wait until you are ambassador to France or chairman of the Clambake Committee of 
your lodge before you use this philosophy of appreciation. You can work magic with it almost every day. 
If, for example, the waitress brings us mashed potatoes when we have ordered French fries, let’s say, 
“I’m sorry to trouble you, but I prefer French fries.” She’ll probably reply, “No trouble at all” and will be glad 
to change the potatoes, because we have shown respect for her. 
Little phrases such as “I’m sorry to trouble you,” “Would you be so kind as to…?” “Won't you 
please?” “Would you mind?” “Thank you”—little courtesies like these oil the cogs of the monotonous grind of 
everyday life—and, incidentally, they are the hallmark of good breeding. 
Let’s take another illustration. Hall Caine’s novels—