“Hey,” I yelled. “What <strong>the</strong> hell are you doing?”He looked at me wide-eyed, rolled up his window, and zipped <strong>of</strong>f.That’s when it hit me: I was being tailed by a private eye.Later <strong>my</strong> attorney informed me that I was being sued for $1 million by <strong>my</strong> formeremployers. Well, sure I was: I’d lured away <strong>the</strong>ir entire sales force and I was beating<strong>the</strong>m at <strong>the</strong>ir own game. I hadn’t expected <strong>the</strong>m to be happy with what I’d done, but Iwas still a little naïve. Then <strong>my</strong> partner was accused <strong>of</strong> stealing leads from our formeremployer. It was ano<strong>the</strong>r scene out <strong>of</strong> Glengarry Glen Ross, where <strong>the</strong> Jack Lemmoncharacter does something similar, with horrible consequences.Here I was, thinking I was pursuing <strong>the</strong> American dream, but really it was built ondistrust and lies. I was ashamed. And embarrassed. This was not <strong>the</strong> way <strong>my</strong> parentshad raised me. I couldn’t really take pride driving that ashy car around if I knewsomeone had good reason to ruin me.I remembered what <strong>my</strong> fa<strong>the</strong>r said when he caught me cheating at solitaire: if youcan’t do it honestly, <strong>the</strong>re’s no point in doing it. Dishonest business is ultimatelyunsustainable. You can’t keep it up, because it always collapses on <strong>its</strong>elf.I don’t know if you’ve ever been in a situation like that. My girlfriend Amelia and Iwere at <strong>the</strong> Hyatt House for a romantic weekend, and I had just found this all out. Itwas <strong>the</strong> worst weekend <strong>of</strong> <strong>my</strong> life. I didn’t know how to handle it. I was just a kid. Allnight long, I lay in bed thinking, What’s going to happen to me? What if I had done itano<strong>the</strong>r way? How can I make amends?I got an idea.I went into <strong>my</strong> former boss’s oce early that Monday morning and apologized. Iasked him to hire me back. If he did, I’d bring all <strong>the</strong> salespeople with me.I mentally crossed <strong>my</strong> fingers and waited. He bit.I got about 90 percent <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> sales force back. I negotiated a decent deal for <strong>my</strong>self,too. More money than I was making before, including ownership in <strong>the</strong> company. Theowner even sprung for all <strong>my</strong> legal bills. As soon as we all started producing like <strong>the</strong> olddays, I got a raise on top <strong>of</strong> that.It seemed like all <strong>my</strong> troubles were over. Then, one day, I was summoned to <strong>the</strong> oce<strong>of</strong> a federal postal inspector. The guy wore a gun on his hip, and leafed through a thicksheaf <strong>of</strong> federal documents on his desk and had me read <strong>the</strong>m. I didn’t quite understand<strong>the</strong>m, but he was a good man, and patient.“You’re walking a thin line,” he said.What a shock—it turned out that <strong>the</strong> hallowed Reroute Pitch danced uncomfortablyclose to fraud. Any<strong>time</strong> you mail products sold as a result <strong>of</strong> a deceptive pitch, youcommit mail fraud. If you’ve used <strong>the</strong> phone to make your pitch, you can tack on wirefraud.Fantastic.Admittedly, <strong>the</strong> federal codes were debatable. But still, <strong>the</strong> inspector said, if <strong>the</strong> fedsfelt like getting zealous, <strong>the</strong>y could just shut us down. Or <strong>the</strong>y wouldn’t. It was all amatter <strong>of</strong> how a U.S. attorney read <strong>the</strong> statutes and how hard he or she felt likeworking.
At one point, telemarketing rooms were such a popular federal investigative prioritythat <strong>the</strong> local network news actually sent an undercover reporter to apply and be hiredand trained by <strong>my</strong> sta. One day I got an intercom call from our receptionist that <strong>the</strong>rewere people with cameras outside our Venice, California, oces. Three minutes later,<strong>the</strong> camera crew and <strong>the</strong> female reporter were walking down <strong>the</strong> hallway to <strong>the</strong>salesrooms, asking for <strong>the</strong> owner. This was actually <strong>my</strong> “rst <strong>time</strong>” on TV. If you hadbeen watching, you would have seen me walking away to call <strong>my</strong> lawyer.All <strong>of</strong> this scared me. At <strong>the</strong> <strong>time</strong> I was hearing <strong>of</strong> sleazy marketing tactics in o<strong>the</strong>rparts <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> telemarketing industry—companies that were selling people emptypackages or bilking seniors out <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong>ir last cents, all because <strong>the</strong>y had answered <strong>the</strong>phone and gotten caught up in a salesman’s enticing pitch. I made a decision. “To hellwith this,” I said. “I’m quitting.”Don’t get me wrong. I loved <strong>the</strong> money and it was fun while it lasted, but I didn’twant to live <strong>my</strong> life always looking over <strong>my</strong> shoulder. By now I was twenty-four yearsold, and ra<strong>the</strong>r than be scared about what came next, I felt condent that I wouldalways be able to make decent money by starting businesses, testing <strong>the</strong>m to see howwell <strong>the</strong>y performed, and making a decision about whe<strong>the</strong>r to continue operating <strong>the</strong>mafter a good chunk <strong>of</strong> data had come in.For a while I helped develop and manage a company that sold nutritional products.My mom actually became one <strong>of</strong> <strong>my</strong> top independent distributors. I dabbled again intelemarketing, using <strong>my</strong> own pitch—a clean pitch—where we called people and askedabout <strong>the</strong>ir business needs and told <strong>the</strong>m about our products. I had as many as ftysalespeople working <strong>the</strong> phones and grossing close to $10 million in sales a year. I wasbeginning to see <strong>the</strong> value <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> s<strong>of</strong>t sell, <strong>of</strong> educating consumers and letting <strong>the</strong>marrive at <strong>the</strong> decision to buy on <strong>the</strong>ir own. I rmly believe that <strong>the</strong> best salespeopleknow how to let <strong>the</strong> customer sell <strong>the</strong>mselves on a product. All <strong>the</strong> salesperson has to dois educate and excite <strong>the</strong>m by saying as little as possible but meaning as much aspossible. You create <strong>the</strong> sizzle and <strong>the</strong>n “close” <strong>the</strong> deal. I did some motivationalspeaking at <strong>the</strong> <strong>time</strong>, too, sharing what I’d learned about salesmanship and living ahealthy life.BUFFERISM NO. 4“BSC: BALLS, SKILL, CONFIDENCE.”BSC is <strong>my</strong> <strong>the</strong>ory <strong>of</strong> life. You can do anything if you have <strong>the</strong>se three things. Somepeople focus exclusively on skill—preparing, training, becoming pr<strong>of</strong>essional.That’s good, but don’t neglect <strong>the</strong> o<strong>the</strong>r two. Beyond <strong>the</strong>se three, you’ll need luckand timing. But if you focus on BSC, that’s a strong base to work from.Outwardly, <strong>my</strong> life was back to awesome. I’d get up in <strong>the</strong> morning, stick <strong>my</strong>surfboard in <strong>my</strong> new Mercedes 560 SL convertible, and drive to work with <strong>the</strong> top downand <strong>the</strong> board sticking up in <strong>the</strong> front seat, buckled in beside me like a surfing executive.
- Page 3 and 4: Copyright © 2013 by Bruce BufferAl
- Page 5 and 6: CONTENTSCoverTitle PageCopyrightDed
- Page 7 and 8: PROLOGUETORONTOLike everyone else o
- Page 9 and 10: I stalked over to Georges and locke
- Page 11 and 12: Worse, I’d done it all to myself.
- Page 13 and 14: an away. He never messed with me ag
- Page 15 and 16: father’s tough-guy persona dwelt
- Page 17 and 18: 2FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!When I was in
- Page 19 and 20: I made it myself, in my bedroom, cr
- Page 21 and 22: “What happened, Bruce?”I could
- Page 23 and 24: Áreas que evalúaEl ECELE23
- Page 25 and 26: eective. When it dawned on me that
- Page 27: doing a lateral transfer to the Red
- Page 31 and 32: 4SECRETSEvery family has its secret
- Page 33 and 34: Then he looked back at the road.Fin
- Page 35 and 36: market it in any way, and no one wa
- Page 37 and 38: 5SELLING THE VOICENow that I had Mi
- Page 39 and 40: I’d been a big video game player
- Page 41 and 42: trademark. You need to license it s
- Page 43 and 44: 6TAP OUT“Tap,” he said.I was ab
- Page 45: invited me to do some sparring with
- Page 49 and 50: He was, after all, a former Marine
- Page 51 and 52: mainstream sporting franchise was o
- Page 53 and 54: thing to watch.The businessman in m
- Page 55 and 56: 8WHITE KNIGHTIt wasn’t until afte
- Page 57 and 58: feel it would be a good move for me
- Page 59 and 60: TUF 14 Finale and was completely ov
- Page 61 and 62: ef has to stand them back up and re
- Page 63 and 64: Now, of course, the next day Zua st
- Page 65 and 66: people never do. You chase somethin
- Page 67: easily wipe yourself out from heats
- Page 70 and 71: one good leg, I was able to work ou
- Page 72 and 73: My parents, Joseph and Connie, in t
- Page 74 and 75: UFC 8 in Puerto Rico was my first U
- Page 76 and 77: At a club with Rampage Jackson: Ram
- Page 78 and 79:
If you ask me, Chuck Liddell is one
- Page 80 and 81:
A couple years after my 360 triumph
- Page 82 and 83:
12BRAWL IN THE FAMILYPat Miletich,
- Page 84 and 85:
do, and don’t realize how intelli
- Page 86 and 87:
started punching Bo. Tito saw his f
- Page 88 and 89:
the last time we saw that happen. I
- Page 90 and 91:
myself ready to bring it if that ha
- Page 92 and 93:
13ON THE ROADA big reason I love my
- Page 94 and 95:
They were remarkable, almost spirit
- Page 96 and 97:
He whacked me loud and hard. I went
- Page 98 and 99:
How far we’ve come.
- Page 100 and 101:
ghter I’ve ever known, and I thin
- Page 102 and 103:
enjoyed doing it, because it’s wo
- Page 104 and 105:
see played on the World Series of P
- Page 106 and 107:
out more than a hundred yards or in
- Page 108 and 109:
when they’re holding “premium
- Page 110 and 111:
16THE ICEMANThe funny thing about M
- Page 112 and 113:
infamous Chinawhite—where he was
- Page 114 and 115:
17FANSOne December, a young man wro
- Page 116 and 117:
and he admitted jokingly that he ha
- Page 118 and 119:
the night we had our largest attend
- Page 120 and 121:
18RAMPAGE“My nose hurts,” Rampa
- Page 122 and 123:
of my old girlfriends, a beautiful
- Page 124 and 125:
chains around his neck and howls at
- Page 126 and 127:
which was held at a ballroom in the
- Page 128 and 129:
But a lot of people simply don’t
- Page 130 and 131:
Ken, who was pissed at something Ti
- Page 132 and 133:
ground and got up, going three roun
- Page 134 and 135:
He nodded. “Yes, Bruce.”I love
- Page 136 and 137:
wrestling. But it was only later, w
- Page 138 and 139:
lot of the ghters, because he train
- Page 140 and 141:
Chuck Norris is another of the grea
- Page 142 and 143:
uidity of movement, speed, and powe
- Page 144 and 145:
22360When I set out to become an an
- Page 146 and 147:
the ght started. (Well, okay, maybe
- Page 148 and 149:
say because, to my mind, it’s gon
- Page 150 and 151:
Sometimes guys up the ante: “Want
- Page 152 and 153:
Brian and my VP, Kristen, have both
- Page 154 and 155:
affairs.Kristen is my right arm. Wi
- Page 156 and 157:
24INTO THAT GOOD NIGHTIn 1999 I neg
- Page 158 and 159:
through the restaurant, and just as
- Page 160 and 161:
In the days after he passed away, I
- Page 162 and 163:
EPILOGUERETURN TO THE OCTAGONAs Aug
- Page 164 and 165:
who’ve known the thrill of the gh
- Page 166 and 167:
All I’m trying to do is get some
- Page 168 and 169:
I’m about to ascend the steps of
- Page 170 and 171:
wonderful “team”: Chris, Henry,