What you can learn from the woman who sold me my car

This article is written by Rebecca Jarvis, deputy director of Integration, West Suffolk Alliance

I can still hear the impact of the van hitting my car.

At such moments, there’s a split second of total silence in which you realise your life will never be the same again. It is an eerie thing to recall.

After the crash, I held my breath and turned to face my children. My youngest daughter was screaming, my eldest was sitting quietly. I searched frantically for my phone and tried to think of who to ring, of what to do, but my mind was foggy and everything seemed like it was happening in slow motion. I waited for someone to rush over but nobody came.

• Want to write for us? Take a look at Apolitical’s guide for contributors

Fear set in as I desperately tried to open the car door and get my children to safety. Having finally managed to pull them out through the driver’s door I was left panicked, holding my children in the middle of a motorway, staring at the remains of the crushed car I was driving less than five minutes earlier. I felt like the luckiest person on Earth.

My car was written off and I eventually started to look for a replacement. I was irrationally fixated on finding the safest car I could, despite knowing the same could easily have happened in another vehicle. We had all walked away safe, which said something.

I’m telling you this because we often underestimate the impact of such significant life events. This can often mean that the initial problems spiral into something much more complex, which only becomes apparent when a person crashes in a state of burnout or even trauma.

Public servants have the opportunity to make a real difference to people’s lives by creating opportunities that enable them to live, connect, grow and flourish. However, our chances of influencing real social change are much greater if we shift focus away from services that react to demand, and towards services that build trusting relationships.

Buying a new car

I visited a series of salerooms before purchasing my new car. I met a number of salesmen, all of them confident and proud of the cars they were selling. I was honest about my knowledge of cars, how scared I felt about driving again, and how urgently I needed a car. I soon realised that I did not have the budget to match my expectations, and that these salesmen were more interested in refining their sales pitches than in helping me to understand my options.

I believe qualities like humility and empathy — those so memorably displayed by that car saleswoman — can connect with people and make them trust organisations.

I was pretty much at the end of my rope when I decided to pop into one showroom while out for the day with my children. I was greeted by a young woman. She was friendly and spent time getting to know us, asking me questions and listening carefully to the answers.

When we got round to talking about the car, she helped me understand what my options were and why they offered different benefits. I have no doubt she was just as interested in making a sale as the previous sales reps were, but her approach distinguished her from them.

For a start, I believed and trusted her. My reasons for this are difficult to explain, but it was clear to me that her main concern was trying to understand me, rather than convincing me to accept her words and act on them.

Some might argue that members of the same sex more easily form a bond where emotional vulnerability is concerned, but it wasn’t so straightforward in my case. It wasn’t just that I trusted her, but that her approach was backed up with an extensive knowledge of the cars she was selling. This, combined with her ability to really understand my needs from a human angle, gave the entire transaction a feeling of completeness. Needless to say, I purchased my new car that very same day.

Local government leadership

This experience resonated with me for two reasons.

I joined local government as a relatively young female leader in 2014. I was curious, constantly asked questions, built connections, and developed new relationships. I did not have a direct team then, so had to galvanise others to generate action. My passion, curiosity, and innovative approach were recognised and valued, but as I looked to progress to more senior positions, my passion and ambition seemingly started to undermine my credibility. I was vocal about my ambition, yet despite receiving frequent praise for what I had achieved, I was overlooked when real opportunities arose.

Around the same time I noticed that the more assured, more corporate-minded among my peers, were consistently being marked out for these roles. This rocked my confidence and made me question my style altogether, to such an extent that I actually asked one of my superiors if I should be more corporate.

I imagine that the young woman who sold me my car had, at some point in her career, experienced similar self-doubt. Yet, she’d clearly stuck to her guns, and by doing so had passed on to me the value of authenticity, and the impact one person can make by just being themselves, while putting others first.

Earning people’s trust

I believe qualities like humility and empathy — those so memorably displayed by that car saleswoman — can connect with people and make them trust organisations. These qualities are often overlooked in local government, because hierarchies still sadly reward assertive, competitive and domineering personalities. In so far as sex has anything to do with it, this could be the single biggest reason women remain significantly underrepresented in senior management positions across local government.

When I purchased my new car, I was vulnerable, confused and irrational. Deep down, I wasn’t just looking for someone to sell me an object. I needed someone to recognise what I’d been through — that terrifying moment that splits your life in two and, God willing, spares it and the lives of the people you love.

I needed the space and confidence to drive again. I could have gone ahead and purchased a car from one of the confident and knowledgeable salesmen. But would I have got back into the driving seat as confidently as I did? I seriously doubt it. — Rebecca Jarvis

We want to hear what you think about this article. Pitch an article to us or send your comments to hello@apolitical.co

(Picture Credit: Pexels)