Back in 1998, I worked on the implementation of an ERP system for a prestigious wine store in New York City. The main store graced the Upper East Side, but the warehouse was housed in a yet-to-be-trendy neighborhood in Brooklyn. There, I met Frank.

As a former member of what was once known as the taxi squad for the New York Giants, Frank filled doorways with his 6’ 2”, 265-pound frame. During his football days, he worked part-time as a warehouse stock boy for the aforementioned store. His playing career ended due to a knee injury during a practice and, sadly, he never saw action in a professional game.

Two decades later, after being promoted to warehouse manager, Frank sat, arms folded as I shared the details of how he would now enter inventory transfers into the system I was implementing.

“It is only five fields, Frank,” I began.

“The date, which will always be the current day, the number of the item you are moving, the quantity in bottles and/or cases, the place where you are moving it from, which will always be here, the warehouse in Brooklyn, and the place where you are moving it to, which will always be the store in the city.”

“Make sense?” I added as I always did at the end to wrap up.

Frank grunted what I took as the affirmative.

How’d’ya…

Around 10 AM the following morning, I received a call from Frank.

“Ed… It’s… er… Frank.”

“Hey, Frank, what’s up?”

“How’d’ya… er… enta a transfa?”

I suggested he write down the steps and I led him through the process.

When he called the next day, I asked him to look at the instructions he had written down the day before. “I can’t read my writin’,” he tersely replied.

Thus began a series of interactions over a two-week period in which I led Frank through the process. At some point, I printed out detailed instructions with big red letters and arrows indicating the sequence and brought them to him. To no avail, the next day, “Hey, Ed, it is Frank. How’d’ya enta a transfa?”

During this same time period, I began reading Peter Block’s seminal work Flawless Consulting. I devoured the material. Peter defines resistance as “a reaction to an emotional process taking place within the client. It is not reflective of the conversation we are having with the client on an objective, logical, rational level.” It is the indirect expression of the client’s emotions.

I learned it was not that Frank was incapable of doing inventory transfers, it was that he didn’t want to do them.

Dealing with resistance

Block suggests a three-step process in “dealing with” (note not “overcoming”) resistance:

1. Identify the form of the resistance.

2. State, in an emotionally neutral way, the form of the resistance to the person resisting.

3. Be quiet.

My chance to do this with Frank came quite expeditiously as I was due to meet with the implementation team to talk about, you guessed it, inventory transfer errors.

Arriving my customary 15 minutes ahead of my scheduled appointment time, I waited for Frank in his cubby hole of an office. He strolled in, black coffee in hand as usual.

“Frank, could we chat briefly before the meeting?” I asked.

His shoulder shrug indicated no major objection.

“On these inventory transfers,” I began, “I am confused. I know you to be a smart guy. To me, it seems like this is clearly something you don’t want to do.” It was done, I stated my observed form of Frank’s resistance in my best Blockian emotionally neutral way and then I did the thing that was the hardest part for me. I shut the H-E-double-hockey-stick up.

Frank froze. For what seemed to me like an eternity, all six-two-265 of him stared directly at me. My mind raced as I contemplated just how he was going to kill me, however, I was certain my body would never be found, he just knew people, if you get my drift.

Then, it happened. I saw “it” leave his body. His massive shoulders dropped as his head drifted back and closed his eyes. Still clutching his coffee (and not my throat) he said, “You know, Ed… you’re right. I thought I was gonna retire before I had’ta use a (technical term redacted) com-pyu-dah.”

Still somewhat joyful to be breathing, I inquired, “Frank, how old are you?”

“57.”

“And when were you planning on retiring?”

“65.”

“Frank, I’m no math major, but that is eight years from now.”

“Yeah, I know dat,” he exhaled and spoke simultaneously.

“Do you think, they are going to go eight years without inventory transfers?”

“No.”

I sensed that in this state I could ask the coup de grace question, “So, what do you want to do?”

Another long pause occurred. Not quite as long as the first, and thankfully, I no longer feared for my life. Frank said the words I will always remember and that have marked one of the highest points in my consulting career to this day.

“Ed… I’m ready now. Couldya show me one more time?”

He collapsed in his chair and I squashed myself into the small area behind his desk and I stepped through the process one more time.

Frank: King of Inventory Transfers

His anxiety gone, he opened his mind and heart to his new role. He entered three or so transactions from the previous day and then leaped to his feet. Walking past me to the warehouse he shouted, “Any of yiz, got inventory ta transfer? I’m da King of Inventory Transfers!”

Our scheduled meeting with the rest of the team was canceled as there was no longer a need.

I seldom heard from Frank for the next two years. When it was announced that I sold my interest in the implementation company, he called.

“I hear you’re leavin’.”

“Yup.”

“Well, eh… I just wanted to say, ‘T’anks.’”

“You’re welcome, Frank. And t’ank you!”