Recently an executive returned from a trip with a story about the salesman he visited. Now in his late 50s, the fellow had been a proven performer since early in his career, hitting his numbers and accumulating bonuses at a prodigious clip. His sales approach was direct to the point of being confrontational, which he justified by saying that most clients were secretly relieved to be told what they needed to buy. "And if they don't go along with me, that just proves they weren't ready in the first place," he liked to quip.

A famous character in his company, to the point of being nicknamed The Hammer, his success was such that his techniques and tactics had long ago been codified and distributed to entry-level sales people. And yet, when our executive stopped by for a call, he was in for a surprise. The Hammer had traded in his trademark sport-coat and tie for a sweater, was hunkered over a computer terminal with an earnest young employee from tech support, and had removed from his office walls and shelves all the plaques and framed photos chronicling his successes.

What amazed the executive most, however, was that the salesman spent the first 10 minutes chatting. No hard sell. No push. No impatient checking of his watch. Spooked, the executive finally blurted out: "What's happened? Where's the old hard sell? Did the company ask you to change?"