Persuasion Fail

We try so hard to sell our ideas. The warm fuzzy achievement from convincing others about our point of view is unique and treasured. Sometimes we do succeed in having good discussions. But it's the failed ones that seem to settle in my memory.

Sometimes the argument itself is at fault. Sans facts, sans direction, all we are left with is our brute capacity for emphasis and a few friendly abuses for garnishing.

"I think our batch had much more PhD people."
"No. Our senior's batch had a lot more students who went abroad."
"No no... Paagal hai kya? Our batch had even more..."

Sometimes we lose touch with the very purpose of starting the conversation. My dad once tried to convince my (then) eight year old cousin to come along to his office.

"Hey Bharat, how about a trip to the RKPuram office?"
"All right.", said Bharat.
"There are lots of computers there. You can play games and..."
Bharat then cheekily cut short his pitch and said, "I've already said yes. You don't need to convince me."
My dad won his company but lost the argument.

Sometimes our earnest desire to put forward a point is not matched by it's momentum. The thread snaps and one is left with a miscarriage.
On the subject of youthfulness of Asian women, Mallika said, "That lady looks so young, you can't believe that her daughter is..."
As the statment hung unfinished, choking for breath, Mallika momentarily appeared perplexed.
"Hey June, how old is her daughter?"
"Thirteen."
"Oh!", Mallika said, "I thought the girl was a lot older...."

An article on such skills of persuasion fail would be incomplete without a mention of my favourite Mahajan Motors. After starting off with a 'Mahajan Properties' establishment, our man had flourished, diversified into a hardware store and a Motors&Mechanics outlet. All of it could be surely attributed to his excellent networking skills. Having purchased our scooter from Mahajan Motors a few years before this incident, my dad hadn't visited the shop and I did all the trips for servicing the vehicle.

So that day I wheeled in my moped and was invited to sit in Mr. Mahajan's dark-tinted, dingy, 'Mahajan Properties' office while his mundus worked at resuscitating my vehicle. He gave a warm smile and continued his conversation with a sluggish obese Delhite, equally entrenched with work on a lazy afternoon, having little to do than listen to Mr. Mahajan's monologues.

"Bhai yahaan sab relationship par chalta hai. Ye dekhiye, inke pitaji (pointing at me), aur hamaare itne acche sambandh ho gaye hain, ki hamse salaah liye bina ye kuch bhi decision nahi lete (Here everything runs on relationships. His father and I now have such a deep relationship that he does not take a single decision without consulting me)."

"Kaun, wo MT waale?", the man said, unfortunately confusing my dad with some other individual.

"Nahi...wo...amm....aa.." Mr. Mahajan thought for a while...."Beta aapke papa ka naam kya hai? (Hey kid, what's your dad's name?)

"Swaminathan", I said, trying not to laugh.

"Haan. wohi! Swaminathan sahab..." he exclaimed and continued his speech unfazed. The jobless counterpart in the discussion did not notice the chasm, or probably didn't mind it.

Have you got any failed stories that you want to confess?
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If you liked this, you might also like to read Logic Fail