Patti Wood Body Language Expert Blog

Body Language Read of Lady Gaga and Taylor Kinney

Patti Wood, MA, Certified Speaking Professional - The Body Language Expert. For more body language insights go to her website at www.PattiWood.net. Check out Patti's website for her new book "SNAP, Making the Most of First Impressions, Body Language and Charisma" at www.snapfirstimpressions.com. Also check out Patti's YouTube channel at http://youtube.com/user/bodylanguageexpert.

What do you do if you are asked for a price quote via email?

Does your sales force talk about this as a new challenge of trying to respond to email RFQs Request for quotes?

An email comes in…

It’s a potential client who would like a quote on your services. Do you send them a quote or even a ball park number or do you at least attempt to bring this discussion to “real time” as in live via that cave man device called a “phone”?

Buyers are emailing because they want to avoid a sales pitch and just flat out save time. Sales people respond via email because they feel this is the way the prospect wants to proceed.

Personally, I don’t like anything that puts me in a price discussion without establishing a relationship. I want to hear their voice and find out important components such as their needs and be able to communicate the value of my services. Call me a crazy nonverbal communication expert, but I think it’s helpful to hear the true tone of one’s words. Oddly I am often told that I was the only person who suggested we talk.

What do you do when a potential client asks for pricing via email?

First you know that typically the RFQs are typically collected and used by someone lower in the chain. If you talk to them and try to find out their budget and needs they typically say, “I don’t know I have to check with….” They are gathering prices that they like rather than product of services that they like. I swear I think that there are sales and negation programs not that say that one way to get the lowest quote is to send a request via email then say you don’t know the budget or the only thing you know is that it is a very small budget! You want to get to the decision maker. So if you can ask lots of questions to discover needs and if the “I don’t know” emailer can’t answer them, you have the opportunity to ask to speak to the decision maker. Have your needs and questions ready. Be able to send them out via email or if you get a call with the “I don’t knower” be able to ask them very pithy questions that let them know you care about serving them and you have the experience of serving and customizing based on needs.

Geno Smiths Body Language Sports writer notices body language After Jets Fifth Straight Loss Smith Says He Remains Optimistic

Oct. 12, 2014 10:14 p.m. ET

The words could have been patronizing coming from anyone but Peyton Manning. He is arguably the greatest of all time, a future Hall of Famer on the brink of breaking the NFL record for passing touchdowns.

So the Jets’ Geno Smith listened as the two quarterbacks met for the traditional postgame handshake after Denver’s 31-17 win Sunday at MetLife Stadium.

“Keep your head up, keep at it,” Manning said, as Smith recalled.

His obscene outburst at a Jets fan notwithstanding, Smith is often difficult to read. He doesn’t sport the famously glum “Manning face” that Peyton and especially his brother, Giants quarterback Eli Manning, do when things aren’t going well. He said Sunday evening that he remains “optimistic.”

But Smith’s body language shows that he realizes he has become a league-wide punch line.

Even “Saturday Night Live” is in on the joke. About 12 hours before kickoff Sunday, Weekend Update anchor Colin Jost quipped that Smith celebrated his 24th birthday on Friday, but “sadly, when Smith blew out the candles, his birthday wish was intercepted and returned for a touchdown.”

It turned out to be a prescient joke, after Smith’s desperate, last-minute heave on Sunday ended up in the hands of Denver’s Aqib Talib, who trotted into the end zone to clinch the game.

Even after the cursing incident, which followed a two-turnover performance against Detroit on Sept. 28, Smith bristled at a reporter who asked whether backup Michael Vickcould provide a spark for the team for a quarter of a game. Smith said that “didn’t make sense” and then told the reporter, who had tried to ask a follow-up question, “That’s not a question. Next question.”

The fieriness cooled into icy sobriety just days later, after Smith was benched during halftime in the Jets’ 31-0 loss to San Diego. As head coach Rex Ryan spoke at a spirited postgame news conference in a windowless, air-condition-less room, I saw Smith sneak into a folding chair to Ryan’s right. His arms rested on his thighs and he stared straight ahead. I had spent the previous week interviewing him about his 22-year-old adopted brother, who is also his apartment-mate and confidant, so I tried to make eye contact with him. The quarterback either ignored me or didn’t see me, confined to his own melancholy mind.

If he was more engaged after Sunday’s loss to Denver, it was barely noticeable. Smith improved on his 4-for-12 performance from a week ago by finishing Sunday 23-of-43 with two touchdowns and that one last-minute interception. He has now thrown six touchdowns and seven interceptions this season.

After the game, he never complained about his offensive line, which for the second straight week gave him little time to throw, nor about his receivers, who dropped three important passes. Uncharacteristically, though, he did assign some blame to his running backs, who gained just 20 yards on 13 carries, before catching himself.

“Obviously, we’ve got to run the ball better,” he said. “But the passing game should be able to pick it up.”

I asked how he was feeling at that moment, with Jets 1-6 on the season and looking ahead to a Thursday night matchup in New England. He gave the obvious answer. “I’m frustrated,” he said. “Five losses in a row obviously has everyone frustrated. But I’m optimistic.”

He said Thursday’s game would give the team a quick chance to bounce back. Someone else asked Smith how he could stay optimistic as the ship continued to sink. The question seemed to surprise him.

“I wake up every day and I get another chance at life,” he said. “That’s good enough for me.”

Write to Stu Woo at Stu.Woo@wsj.com

Should Doctors Give Speeches and Media Interviews?

There are advantages and cautions for doctors trying to grow their practice by giving lectures and media interviews.

As a professional speaker, media coach and body language expert who is quoted in the National Media several times a week, I know many pros and cons of that kind of exposure. I have done media training with doctors including the American Academy of Emergency Physicians. My experience is that it can build a doctor’s credibility and their confidence level in general.

If you not only know your material for a speech, but have a captivating interactive delivery style rather than a boring, monotone, PowerPoint filled lecture, you gain great respect. You also need to really know how to handle difficult questions from audiences and the media.

It is amazing how being quoted in print media or being interviewed on TV or radio impresses people. The most important thing is to do it well so you do not harm your credibility.

Mom and Dinner

Learning to be a body language expert begins when we are small. Simple interactions modeled over and over again help us learn the intricate dance of interaction in every small move and nuance of the voice. We need to eat dinner with our families face-to-face around the table at least three times a week for eighteen years to learn the body language cues required for face-to-face conversations. I read this wonderful funny story about family dinners the other day and wanted to share it with you.

There is a chapter in my book about how to learn body language. To order my book, click on the pic of my book on the home page of my website. www.pattiwood.net

By Megan Bello

In 1985 we banned my mother from making meatloaf. To be honest, I think she was relieved. I doubt she enjoyed making it any more than my father, brother, sister or I enjoyed eating it. My mom, Sheila, subscribes to the 1:2 ratio when it comes to eating bread with butter and grew up believing butterball turkeys and store-bought bundt cakes to be “homemade” dishes

What she lacked in culinary skills, however, she more than made up for in creativity. And despite the occasional overcooked frozen vegetable mishaps, we grew to love the enthusiastic improvisation Mom brought to the table. She somehow managed to make every meal special, regardless of the bag, box or fast food restaurant from which it hailed. I still drift off into reverie over our cool taco assembly line dinners, Friday pizza nights and the Tupperware-microwave parties — aka leftovers night. Flaws and all, she put the fun in dysfunction.

Case in point: One Tuesday night a few years back, my brother —

who inexplicably still likes mashed potato flakes from a cardboard box— requested his ol' favorite. Sheila obliged. As the bowl was placed upon the table, we noticed it to be a little off. (Well, even more off than one could normally expect from potatoes made from powder.) The flakes had congealed into a gummy glob. My dad quizzically plopped a pile onto his plate. Then my brother got his hands on it, literally. He dug his paws into the potatoes as if needing dough and gauging the consistency to be that of the perfect snowball-making snow, he swiftly rolled his faux-spuds into an edible (er, inedible) ball. And then he threw it at me.

I actually caught it, looked to Dad to sense the temperature in the room … and there was my athletic father ready to catch. I chucked him the monster mash; he cradled it like a football and then gazed up at his wife, smiled his big warm grin and tossed the ball of food Mom had just “slaved” over right into her hands. And true to form, all she could do was laugh (and toss a highball to my sister). Game on! When Mom gives you mashed potato flakes, make a ballgame out of it. Then promptly order up some pizza.

Sheila's cooking did gradually evolve over the years, thanks to our aunt Kath (one of the best cooks in the entire world), who took Sheila under her wing and molded her into her sous chef (of sorts). She even managed to master a few signature dishes, from tuna noodle casserole to baked ziti. By the time we were adults, Sheila had started a tradition of making our favorite meals on our birthdays. And like a fine wine, these dinners have gotten better with age. So for Mom's 50th birthday, we decided to return the favor.

Keep in mind that Sheila's original habits had settled into a permanent spot in our subconscious. To this day, thanks to olfactory sense memory, we love the smell of boiling hot dogs (a childhood staple) and when my sister and I are together making mac 'n cheese from a box or PB&J out of the jars, we ironically tilt our heads with a wink and a smile and declare, “just like Mom used to make.”

Nevertheless, we decided to set the bar high for Sheila's 50th. The menu was set: tequila-lime marinated chicken with mango salsa chutney. Wine, check. Bread, check. Chicken breast? Well, we'd bought chicken tenders rather than breasts, but they were close enough. We doused the teeny pieces of chicken in not one but two bottles of marinade for five hours. Then we made the chutney from memory, because in delusions of grandeur we were convinced we were THAT good. Two hours later, my godfather was drunk and the grandparents were pacing. Dinner was finally served! As the plate hit the table, my dad innocently asked, “What fish is this?”

The tiny chicken strips had soaked up the tequila lime sauce like their lives depended on it. The meat was dead on arrival.

“No honey, you don't want that," my Nana said as she slapped down my Pop-Pop's hand as he unwittingly reached for more of the chutney, a nauseating confusion of potent garlic and angry fruit.

Break out the wine, STAT.

While we were processing the surreal realization that this dinner was inedible, my resourceful little bro snuck away from the table and nuked a bag of rice. He returned with a fork in one hand and the bag in the other, walked around the table and scooped a pile onto everyone's plate. No one spoke. We just ate the grains as if they were filet mignon. Sheila's legacy had simultaneously created a monstrosity and saved her own birthday. Rice-in-a-bag: just like Mom used to make.

Those years without the Holly Homemaker home-cooked meals actually turned out to be family-bonding dinners. I'm now a firm believer that family meals should be a joyful expression of love, no matter what's on the table. They're opportunities to reconnect, appreciate everyone's personalities and simply remember why we like being together. In our home, we never had to endure the cold and stoic dining room propriety or learn to appreciate sushi at an age when it's probably not all that good for a kid. Don't get me wrong, we learned our manners and could dine with adults at a fancy restaurant if the occasion called for it, but we were partial to down-home fun.

I wouldn't trade our crazy meals for the world, as they gave way to unplanned and unforgettable splendor. We grew up with a role model who didn't take herself too seriously, always did her best but had the wits to laugh at her goof-ups and celebrate her imperfections. It's a relief to be able to laugh at yourself and make the most of it. We now take pride in turning our faux pas into funny anecdotes that always make for a great story.

Sheila may have been sparse on culinary expertise, but her spunk made up for it. Like many parents, she found other ways to express her love. She took us to museums and nature centers on weekends, built science projects with us, gave us the freedom to express ourselves when we picked out our own outfits, let us get dirty in the backyard on our exploration missions and shared all of her super-cool vintage clothes that she'd saved for us in our special "dress up box."

At a time when competitive parenting is at an all-time high, interviewing for pre-school, the challenges of fitting into a new school system or the inevitable stink eye shot between the stay-at-home moms and the working ones, how do the Sheilas of the world measure up? At the end of the day, what really matters? How do you compete with the mothers who diligently keep their families perfectly coiffed, poised and fed five-course meals on good china every night?

I'm no expert, but I'd say as long as your kids are smiling, laughing and learning about life and how to make the most of any situation, it really doesn't matter what your pot roast looks like or if Johnnie went to school with two different shoes on. What it boils down to is love and cherishing the time, however much you have, together.

To this day, tidy packages scare me. I prefer the creative-looking family unit, where it's obvious love abides, but sometimes there's just not enough time in the day to brush hair or turn on the oven. Mistakes are often blessings in disguise and a great opportunity to see imperfect people perfectly. After all, isn't that what love is?

My perfectly imperfect mom wrote the recipe on family bonding with her contagious laughter, undeniable sense of humor and innate way of seeing the (wine) glass half full, and she's passed it on to her kin. I endeavor to pass it on to my kids one day. It's the gift that keeps on giving and feeds more than our bellies, but also our spirits and our souls.

Bing even more:

COMMENT: What makes your imperfect Mom perfect?54Comments