Most of us hate salesmen, used car lots, phone solicitations. Perhaps it is the fear of being “sold out” or being taken advantage of. But at the same time, I can think of several times when I really needed to buy something and my interactions with a salesperson were remarkable and effective, even impressive.

What made the seller so effective? He put himself in my place, made an effort to get to know me and my needs, and made the conversation feel like “we experience” and less like “me vs. you.” He gave the impression that he understood me, and then, given his knowledge, it made sense to listen to his suggestions.

And while I might have felt like a colleague when he walked me to the register, let’s be honest: At the heart of every interaction is his desire to make the sale, to make commissions. Getting to know me and befriending me was only necessary to achieve that goal; no matter how real it felt.

Can you imagine what it would be like if all the vendors were suddenly taking truth serums? How successful would they be then? “I’m not happy that you’re here and you better buy this even though you don’t need it and it’s too expensive in our store, because I want to be the first seller in this department… and your shirt is ugly.”

We all live with a vendor. By creating us with two souls, two personalities, two desires and impulses and visions in life, but with only one body through which they can express themselves and achieve their goals, the wrestling match of life is set in motion. The Animalist Soul is a fabulous salesman; able to seem so wonderful, caring, saintly, brilliant, sensitive, and easy going. However, the truth comes out once we follow him, once the cash register rings: he only cared about himself. And listening to his skillful and selfish advice is why we feel distant from ourselves, down and out, low and empty.

Don’t be fooled by the tone.