The Dog That Didn't Bark: The Case for Purposeful Paranoia

In “Silver Blaze” Sherlock Holmes solves the mystery because of something that didn’t happen. Everyone at the scene was busy looking at what was there, but he zeroed in on what should have happened and didn’t.

I think about that exchange more than I care to, because the same mistake was one of the most expensive I made when running a retention team. Even worse, it was my own client and I should have known better. Unhappy clients usually tell you they’re unhappy. They call, they complain, they escalate, they threaten, and if they go cold you tend to know why. A quiet client tells you nothing. When noisy clients are demanding your attention, that nothing is easy to confuse with “fine.” A client who never complains is not the same as a client who is happy.

Let me show you what that looked like for me.

I had an account that I was planning to use as the model for successfully engaging with a complex client that had multiple independent teams and no single point of contact. I had to earn trust with four separate teams, each with its own needs and its own operating rhythm. Over the course of the first year I ran multiple engagements with each of those teams tied to specific goals and projects they were working on. I also found a fifth contact who brought us in on an unrelated project where we were the only vendor positioned to help. I delivered on all of it.

Easy renewal, right? Unfortunately, no.

When we got on a call to review the contract I was told that they surveyed the teams and everything was good, but we simply hadn’t differentiated ourselves enough from tools and vendors they already had, and they didn’t see the value in continuing the relationship.

Blindsided doesn’t begin to cover it.

I delivered as the person who owned the relationship. We, as a company, delivered exactly what the client asked us to deliver. And the answer was still no.

In this case, I was so focused on delivering what the client asked for that I failed to understand what they needed from us in order to renew the agreement. There was an expectation that we’d replace an incumbent. They never voiced it, and I never asked. I read engagement and activity as proof that we were giving them what they needed and that they’d be likely to stay. I read the special project as proof that I’d covered the “what else can we do for you?” and “who else could use this?” I didn’t ask the uncomfortable question of “what will it take to renew?” because nothing in the relationship implied that I needed to.

The dog didn’t bark, and that’s the clue I missed.

On my team we had an unofficial mantra: purposeful paranoia. Simple idea, but hard to execute. When everything looks like it’s going smoothly, that’s when you ask what might be missing. Something isn’t always wrong. But from the inside, smooth sailing is what missing information feels like.

The expectation was that each of us would police ourselves. But that easily falls off when the to-do list and the calendar are full, so we built it into the group dynamic. Every two weeks the team reviewed accounts together, both to learn from and support each other. When the same client came up three times in a row with “they’re fine” or “business as usual,” we would stop and dig in. What are we missing? Did you actually call them, or just send another email? Who else over there can we reach out to? Are we delivering what they expected, or just what they asked for? Any new hires or turnover? Pull up the notes from the last conversation. Did we miss a clue? Find out why the dog didn’t bark.

So ask yourself, which curious incident have you shrugged off without looking into it further? Which client hasn’t barked to draw your attention? What’s expected that isn’t there? A lost renewal is revenue you have to replace before you can grow at all. Put a process in place, then pick up the phone and call.