When there were old-school parking meters in New York, quarters were precious.
One day, I’m walking down the street and I guy comes up to me and says, “Do you have a dollar for four quarters?” He held out his hand with four quarters in it.
Curious, I engaged with him. I took out a dollar bill and took the four quarters.
Then he turned to me and said, “can you spare a quarter?”
What a fascinating interaction.
First, he engaged me. A fair trade, one that perhaps even benefited me, not him.
Now, we have a relationship. Now, he knows I have a quarter (in my hand, even). So his next request is much more difficult to turn down. If he had just walked up to me and said, “can you spare a quarter,” he would have been invisible.
Too often, we close the sale before we even open it.
Interact first, sell second.
I have footwear, footwear that has to walk all over the concrete of New York. And for some reason, every male in this city feels the need to hock a fat loogie in front of them on the sidewalk as they are walking. At least some have the weak-decency to spit on to the train tracks–thank you kindly–but most still use the old fashioned defacing of the street with their own bacteria-launching. I have never felt this urge and I contemplate what kind of release it must mean for them.
Apple & Orange 
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