From Enemies to Allies
During the 2008 global financial crisis, one of the many companies to suffer was a French firm that
I’ll call Nouveau. Nouveau was headquartered in a small city in the middle of France that boasted a
beloved soccer team. The founders had chosen the city as their headquarters in an effort to restore the
city’s glory, but the population was shrinking and profits were falling, and there was pressure to
relocate to a larger city. Nouveau’s executives decided to save headquarters with a dramatic
reorganization. Seeking outside assistance, the CFO issued a request for proposals to consulting
firms. Nouveau was open to working with whichever firm presented the best proposal, with one
exception: one particular consulting firm could not be trusted. This firm had been working with
Nouveau’s chief competitor for years. Nouveau’s top brass worried that inside information could be
leaked accidentally—or even stolen by a taker.
The suspect consulting firm’s lead partner, who I’ll call Phillippe, was aware of the distrust from
the Nouveau executives. Phillippe’s firm had submitted proposals to Nouveau in the past, and they
were always rejected. The consultants had repeatedly explained the firm’s strict confidentiality
policies, but the Nouveau executives didn’t buy it. Eventually, the consultants concluded that it was a
waste of time to continue making proposals. But Phillippe was genuinely interested in contributing to
Nouveau’s success, so he led his team in preparing and submitting a proposal for the reorganization.
Then they sat down to brainstorm: how can we prove to Nouveau that we’re trustworthy?
Phillippe’s firm was the last to pitch to Nouveau. At the pitch meeting, Phillippe arrived at
Nouveau’s headquarters with five consultants in tow. They were escorted into a large room where ten
Nouveau executives sat across from them. Phillippe’s team presented the proposal, and the Nouveau
executives were unmoved. “We like your proposal,” one executive said, “but we can’t trust you. Why
should we enter into a relationship with you? How can we be sure that you will put our interests
first?” Phillippe reminded them of his firm’s confidentiality policies and code of honor, reinforcing
that its reputation hinged on upholding the highest standards for clients, but his promise fell on deaf
ears.
Phillippe had run out of logical arguments, so he resorted to the only other ammunition that he had.
He reached into his briefcase and pulled out the blue scarf of the city’s famed soccer club. Donning
the scarf as a symbol of hometown pride, he made a plea: “We’ve been trying to convince you for
many years that our confidentiality policies can be trusted. Since we’re not managing to say that with
words, we’d like to show our commitment in a different way.” The five members of Phillippe’s team
followed suit, putting the soccer scarves around their necks.
The Nouveau executives were surprised. They asked which partner would take the lead on the
project. Phillippe stepped up: “I am going to take the lead, and we will begin our work over the
August break. I can commit to this because your headquarters is next to my home.”
A few hours later, Phillippe’s firm landed the project.
The Nouveau executives had not known that Phillippe was from their city. “This was a
reorganization task,” Phillippe explains, “and having someone care about this city, and the people
living in it, was a plus for the employees and the company. It was a bit of common ground.”
Common ground is a major influence on giving behaviors. In one experiment, psychologists in the
United Kingdom recruited fans of the Manchester United soccer team for a study. When walking from