Most of Your Intermittent Lex is available for free to everyone. Some folks choose to become paid subscribers, which is of course incredibly kind. A small number of posts are just for them. This is one of them, but here’s a short preview for everyone.

A decade ago — and wow does that hit me hard, that this was a full decade ago — Jessica Winter published a story that stuck with me for Slate, which she called “The Kindly Brontosaurus.” (For what it's worth, I always always think of it as “The Friendly Brontosaurus,” and mistakenly used “Friendly” several times in my original draft of this piece.)

The key section is reproduced below, but I strongly encourage you to read the whole thing:

A practitioner, nay, an artist, of the Kindly Brontosaurus method would approach the gate agent as follows. You state your name and request. You make a clear and concise case. And then, after the gate agent informs you that your chances of making it onto this flight are on par with the possibility that a dinosaur will spontaneously reanimate and teach himself to fly an airplane, you nod empathically, say something like “Well, I’m sure we can find a way to work this out,” and step just to the side of the agent’s kiosk.

Here is where the Kindly Brontosaurus rears amiably into the frame. You must stand quietly and lean forward slightly, hands loosely clasped in a faintly prayerful arrangement. You will be in the gate agent’s peripheral vision—close enough that he can’t escape your presence, not so close that you’re crowding him—but you must keep your eyes fixed placidly on the agent’s face at all times. Assemble your features in an understanding, even beatific expression. Do not speak unless asked a question. Whenever the gate agent says anything, whether to you or other would-be passengers, you must nod empathically.

Continue as above until the gate agent gives you your seat number. The Kindly Brontosaurus always gets a seat number.

I have many, many thoughts on this piece.

First off, I think some folks could read that and think, “wow, the friendly kindly brontosaurus is an asshole.” I get that. It can be jerky, executed wrong.

But I don’t think the kindly brontosaurus is about physical presence or intimidation of any form. I think it’s about remaining top of mind, exuding confidence and non-obnoxious charm, and also both empathy for the other person’s situation — and trust in their ability to solve problems.

That’s asking a lot of a posture. But it works — and it even works over email and chat and phone tech support.

When my dad has a tech support or customer service issue, he relies on volume. It’s a not uncommon approach: yell until you get your way. Yelling feels cathartic for the yeller sometimes. Anger boils. Yelling helps us vent.

But it’s a not a great way to get things done. (And it’s also not a great way to treat humans, for what it's worth.)

Winter’s focus really is the physical posture. She quotes a body language expert (Dr. Lillian Glass), who says that the position shows “a humility, so you allow the other person to feel empowered,” making them “more receptive to you.”

You don’t need your body to do that. You can use your word and approach as well. Perhaps you’ve sent one of those letters to a CEO of a business whose company wronged you in some way, appealing to the CEO’s sense of responsibility and pride. But this approach — of trusting and empowering the other person while remaining firm in my needs — is the crux of my business strategy. As I said, the trick is making it natural and not coming off suave or jerky, which obviously won’t work.

It’s why my email with a near-100% response rate works, I think: I’m being clear that I don’t want to waste your time because I respect the message you’re giving me, but I’m also reminding you in a non-obnoxious way that I’m there and I do need your help or feedback, if you can afford to share it.

The kindly brontosaurus relies on firm politeness, trust, and even empowerment of the person you’re dealing with. And that dino’s mindset and approach closes deals. It gets things done.