Talking The Talk: Speaking Your Client’s Language

My 87 year-old grandfather, retired coal miner and mad-genius with heavy construction equipment, still lives in the West Virginia mountains where I was born.  He’s an absolute bear of a man blessed with arms stronger than Greek pillars and the immune system of a cockroach wedged in Keith Richards’ nostril. Don’t let his fifth grade education fool you–through his toothless gums he spins parables worthy of any disciple of Aesop, each one slurrishly delivered in the classic Appalachian Hillbilly dialect.

My entire extended family talks like him, their sentences liberally peppered with “ders” and “ya’lls” and “yonders” and “hollers” and pretty much any hillbilly cliche’ you can think of (unfairly and relentlessly mocked by the mainstream).  Always a product of my environment, I talked that way in my youth as well, until a family move to the Virginia suburbs purged me of my regional tendencies in a hurry.

But despite our distance, my family always made it a point to, at bare minimum, trek up the interstate roads (that, at times, seem to rise at a 90-degree angle, popping my ears with terrifying regularity) for major holidays like Easter, Thanksgiving, and Christmas.  And after a few trips around Grandpa’s property on his Mule (the Kawasaki off-road vehicle, not the mammal), I always without fail ended up sliding back into my drawl like I never left.

It’s automatic, similar to what I feel must happen in bilingual households switching languages.  In the “natural” West Virginia tongue Grandpa and I would chit-chat about his various projects (fixing water lines, trimming trees, draining the fishing pond), and later on I’d sink into the couch under his collection of mounted deer horns while I listened to him ramble about yesteryears working, hunting, and accomplishing feats of strength that would make The Mountain from Game of Thrones blush.

But the dialect never stuck, and within two minutes of conversing with native Virginians back home I was my normal, boring, middle-class, non-camo wearing self.

As subconscious as this transition seems, I believe that the reason my dialect changes the way it does has to do with human nature’s remarkable ability to adapt.  My grandfather is not an easy man to understand–the lack of teeth alone makes it tough enough–but by speaking his dialect on his own terms, it creates a feeling of mutual comfort between the two of us.  I don’t feel like an outsider, and Grandpa remembers that I’m still that little kid that would hug dead deer in the back of his truck.  It doesn’t necessarily make deciphering his syntax any easier in the technical sense, having that common linguistic foundation establishes a bond that at the very least provides a shared starting point from where understanding can grow.

As an agent, you don’t have the time to create a relationship as organic as the one between me and Grandpa, so you’re going to need every advantage you can get.  Speaking the same language would be a fantastic start.

By “language” I don’t mean you necessarily need to seek out Espanol for Dummies (though if you work primarily with Latino-based demographics you probably should).  By “language” I mean speaking in terms that your client can understand and relate to.  The more tangible proof you can provide to show how much understand them, the more likely they’re going relate to you–and the more likely they’ll trust you to represent them in the housing market.

This isn’t something you can fake.  DO NOT, under any circumstances, pretend to be something you’re not. The last thing any client wants to see is a 50 year-old middle-class agent spouting off conversational gems like “yo” and “chillax” and “lols” without any sensitivity to context.  (You’re not Daniel Day Lewis–no need to lose yourself in the art of method acting).  Instead just work in modest steps to establish some even footing.  Look at the regions in which you operate, adapt your client’s terminology–and then make that terminology your terminology.  Listen to their vocal inflections when having a conversation and match them.  Do they talk fast or slow?  Do they draw out their vowels?  Do they converse with others in a consistently aggressive tone like their from Long Island?  Meeting them on this basic level, even just a little bit, will do worlds of good in sewing seeds of mutual trust.

You don’t even have to think purely in linguistic terms.  This same line of thinking goes for conversational content as well.  Dealing with a single mother who wants to own her first home?  Point out the benefits the house has relating to raising children.  (“See that backyard?  When my boy was 6 we put a trampoline in ours.”)  Have an old couple looking for their retirement home?  Maybe you want to bring up that your grandfather moved twice in his old age because he got so sick of climbing stairs.  Different demographics (social, ethnic, economic, and everything in between) are going to be drawn to different topics based on their needs, and it’s your job to tie those needs to your presentation in a relatable, empathetic way that doesn’t ring false.

Practice operating within your client’s language (as long as you don’t overdo it and go full Flava Flav when dealing with Millennials) could do nothing but help you with your client interactions, and at the very least it could give you a reason to perfect that British accent if you’re thinking about doing some business overseas.  After all, everything sounds better in British.