Little Things Mean a Lot
Little Strokes are indeed, little. But as every woman knows, they
mean a lot. I’ve yet to meet a woman who wouldn’t agree with
these lyrics from an old song sung by Kitty Kallen:
Blow me a kiss from across the room.
Say I look nice when I’m not.
Touch my hair as you pass my chair.
How to Make ’Em Smile with “Itty-Bitty Boosters”
215
Technique #56
Lit tle Strokes
Don’t make your colleagues, your friends, your loved
ones look at you and silently say, “Haven’t I been pretty
good today?” Let them know how much you appreciate
them by caressing them with verbal Little Strokes like
“Nice job!” “Well done!” “Cool!”
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Little things mean a lot.
Send me the warmth of a secret smile
To show me you haven’t forgot.
For always and ever, now and forever,
Little things mean a lot.
To further complicate the art of the compliment, one must
consider timing. Blatant, barefaced, brazen flattery turns all but
the blindest egomaniacs off. But the human animal never fails to
amaze observers. There are moments when, if you don’t give a bla-
tant, barefaced, brazen compliment—even to a bright individ-
ual—you lose. The following technique defines those moments.
216
How to Talk to Anyone
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I’ll never forget the first time I gave a luncheon speech in front of
strangers. I’d practiced for the stuffed animals on my bed and my
roommate, Christine, but this was my debut in front of a real
audience.
As I shakily got to my feet, I looked out at seventeen smiling
Rotarians waiting for my words of wit and wisdom. My tongue
was dry as chalk dust, my palms as wet as a fish. The audience
might as well have been seventeen thousand judges waiting to sen-
tence me to eternal humiliation if I didn’t inform and entertain
each. I gave a last panic-stricken glance at Christine, who had
driven me to the club, and began, “Good afternoon. It gives me
great pleasure . . . ”
Thirty minutes later, amidst scattered applause which I feared
was obligatory, I crawled back to my seat next to Christine. I
looked expectantly at her. She smiled and said, “You know this
dessert isn’t bad. Have some.”
Dessert? “Dessert! Dammit, Christine, how did I do?” I
silently screamed at her. A few minutes later Christine told me how
much she and, she assumed, everyone else enjoyed my talk. Nev-
ertheless, by then it was too late. The crucial compliment-craving
moment had passed.
217
How to Praise with
Perfect Timing
✰
57
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