George is in his seventies. His hearing has deteriorated over the years, but he’s reluctant to wear a hearing aid. He hates missing out on parts of conversations and often feels isolated because he can’t hear what’s going on. He’s embarrassed about his disability. But he feels self-conscious about wearing a clunky, visible hearing aid that he thinks makes him look older.

So, when a sales letter arrives in the mail describing how he feels every day as he struggling to take part in conversations, George keeps reading. The letter goes on to give details about a new inexpensive (under $300), yet small hearing aid that will solve all his problems. He phones the clinic straight away to make an appointment.

The following week he arrives at the clinic to have his hearing tested. The technician immediately tells him the $300 aid won’t be suitable for him. Of course, there are other options. He shows George two sample hearing aids. One model is $6,000—the other is $3,000. George can’t afford the more expensive one. And he’s not sure about committing to paying ten times what he believed the hearing aid would cost him—especially since there is no way to test this model on-site that day.

But the technician who is also the salesperson prides himself on being good at his job. Half an hour later George finds himself sitting on a bench outside the shop clutching a receipt for the deposit on the $3,000 hearing aid that will arrive next week. He’s still not sure if it will work for him or if he wants it at all.

The salesperson thinks he got a good result. He’ll see a boost in his commissions at the end of the month. The store manager will likely congratulate him on a job well done. He did close the sale after all.

Many of the hard metrics we use to assess if we’ve done a good job are crude and unreliable. Often the best measure of work we can be proud of are the soft metrics that are overlooked and harder to measure.

How we get results is as important as the results themselves.

Image by Nick Cooper