Why do you want a Solahart? His answer was a revelation!

The foothills west of Coffs Harbour have a way of making you slow down. The roads narrow, the gum trees lean in, and the air smells faintly of woodsmoke and old stories. It was on one of those winding roads—decades ago, early in my business life—that I learned a marketing lesson so sharp it still cuts through my thinking today.

The Visit That Changed Everything

I was selling Solahart solar hot water systems back then. In those days, Solahart was the heavyweight champion of the industry—big brand, big presence, big credibility. And everyone in the industry “knew” the same thing: people bought solar hot water to save money on electricity. Environmental motives were a distant second, somewhere behind “I like the colour of the tank.”

So salespeople, myself included, strutted into every home ready to talk kilowatt-hours, rising tariffs, and long-term savings.

But I also carried something from my earlier life in the police force: the A‑B‑Q mantra—Assume nothing. Believe nothing. Question everything.

That mantra saved me more than once in criminal investigations. I didn’t realise it was about to save me in sales too.

A Weatherboard Cottage and a Simple Question

An elderly couple had called me out to their farm—a weatherboard cottage that looked like it had been standing there since Federation. They were warm, welcoming, and clearly interested in a Solahart.

Before launching into my well‑rehearsed spiel about electricity savings, I asked a question that felt almost too simple:

“Why do you want a Solahart?”

The old man didn’t hesitate.

He didn’t talk about bills.

He didn’t talk about the environment.

He didn’t talk about modern convenience.

He said, with a tired smile:

“Because I’m too old to be chopping the wood.”

The Moment the Penny Dropped

Their hot water system wasn’t electric.

It wasn’t gas.

It wasn’t even solar.

It was a gravity-fed tank in the attic, heated by the wood stove in the kitchen.

Every hot bath, every dish washed, every cup rinsed, came from wood he chopped with his own hands.

Electricity savings?

They weren’t even on the radar.

In that moment, my entire sales presentation flipped upside down.

And so did my understanding of the market.

The Hidden Segments I’d Been Blind To

By asking one question, I stumbled into what marketers like to call research and segmentation—two words I didn’t know at the time, but was accidentally practising.

I discovered:

•           Yes, city customers wanted to save on electricity.

•           But rural customers often had no electricity at all.

•           Some wanted convenience.

•           Some wanted reliability.

•           Some wanted independence from the grid.

•           And some, like my elderly farmer, simply wanted to stop swinging an axe.

One product.

Multiple motivations.

Completely different conversations.

The Marketing Lessons Hidden in the Bush

That old farmer taught me more in one sentence than any marketing course could have:

•           Never assume you know the customer’s motivation.

•           Ask the question—then shut up and listen.

•           A market isn’t one big group of people who all want the same thing.

•           It’s lots of different kinds of people who want things for different reasons.

•           Segmentation isn’t a theory—it’s a survival skill.

•           Research doesn’t always require surveys; sometimes it’s just a good question.

From that day on, I opened every sales conversation with the same line:

“Why do you want a Solahart?”

And the answers kept revealing new segments, new needs, and new opportunities.

The Story Behind the Story

Looking back, I realise I wasn’t just selling solar hot water systems.

I was learning to see people—not products.

Motivations—not assumptions.

Segments—not stereotypes.

And it all started with a weatherboard cottage, a weary farmer, and a pile of firewood he no longer wanted to chop.