Using Statement Analysis to Listen to a Tradesman Before Handing Over Your Keys & Money...

There comes a moment in every homeowner's life, usually shortly after a worrying noise from the boiler, when you must do something genuinely frightening: choose a stranger, hand them your keys, your kitchen and a sizeable chunk of your savings, and hope for the best…

Three builders come round to quote. All three seem nice. All three have a van with their name on it, which feels reassuring in a way you can't quite explaim. But there's an uncomfortable truth: you can’t judge their brickwork & you wouldn't know good pointing from bad if it introduced itself.

The only evidence you can actually examine ~ the only thing on display when they’re there with you in your kitchen that afternoon…is their language.

Happily, that's rather a lot of evidence. Because Statement Analysis ~ the discipline I teach for reading police interviews and 911 calls, works just as well on a man called Gary standing in your kitchen describing what he'd do with your extension.

People reveal themselves in their words, they can't help it ~ you just need to know what to listen for.

Flag one: Listen for their Commitment (or lack of…!)

Compare these two sentences, both of which I have personally received:

“I'll be there Tuesday at eight.”

“Should be with you early next week, all being well.”

The first is a commitment. First person — I — a named day, and a time.

The tradesman has put himself in the sentence and attached himself to an outcome.

The second reminded me of a weather forecast ~ “Should be” is not “will be.” “Early next week” is not Tuesday. And “all being well” is a trapdoor built into the sentence, through which Gary, his tools and and the possibility of my warm house and hot water may later vanish entirely.

In Statement Analysis we treat qualifiers such as: should, probably, hopefully, try — as softening of commitment. Intentions rather than a commitment. But none of them is a lie.

That's the point ~ people very rarely lie outright. They hedge, so that later they won't have to lie. The tradesman who says “I'll try to get there Tuesday” has already told you, truthfully, that he may not. We just don't actively listen.

Flag two: The Answer Nobody Asked For

Here's a subtler one. You ask Gary about timescales and you get:

“Six weeks, give or take. And I always turn up, me ~ not like some of these cowboys.”

Now, you didn't ask whether he turns up. You asked how long the job takes. When someone answers a question nobody asked, a Statement Analyst pricks up their ears, because unnecessary information is never unnecessary to the speaker. He has voluntarily told you which accusation he's used to hearing.

The reliable tradesman doesn't think to mention reliability, for the same reason a fish doesn't mention water…

In the criminal cases I teach, this principle does heavy lifting. A mother of a missing child, asked a simple question about distance, once volunteered an entirely unprompted account what a careful mother she was. Her need to portray herself in a good light suggests a history of having being seen in a bad one.

Your kitchen is not a crime scene (I hope!), but the same principle travels from criminal cases to everyday life: the unasked-for defence is a window into past complaints.

Flag three: Real Memory is Specific

Ask about the last job they did like yours, and listen to the texture of their answer.

Genuine experience sounds like this: “We did one over in Loughton in March, a similar layout to yours, except their joists ran the wrong way, so we had to get a structural engineer in, which added a week.” They use past tense, give specific places, problems, and the small inconvenient details that nobody would bother to invent.

‘Padded’ experience sounds different ~ listen to Gary: “Oh yeah, we’re doing these all the time. No problem at all.” Present tense, no particulars, suspiciously frictionless. Truthful memory is effortless and specific because the speaker is reading from experience; the vague answer is being composed on the spot.

And notice the most charming tell of all: the honest man remembers what went wrong.~ real jobs have hiccups. Gary’s history of no hiccups isn't a history, it’s persuasion.

Flag four: Who Owns the Problem?

Pronouns are the soul of Statement Analysis, and they perform beautifully in a kitchen…

Be sure to listen when problems come up.

“I'll sort it” is ownership.

“These things happen” is a verbal shrug in sentence form ~ Gary’s problem has been quietly handed to the universe.

“The plaster failed” was my personal favourite ~ apparently the plaster acted alone, possibly with accomplices. Nothing to do with him mixing the wrong ratios.

So the pattern to listen for is this ~ who is the “I” when things go well, and where does the “I” go when things go badly?

The tradesman worth hiring keeps his pronoun use consistent through the ‘bad weather’ ~ “I got that one wrong, so I redid it at my cost.”

The one to avoid achieves grammatical invisibility the moment responsibility enters the room. Fraud investigators reading the statements of rogue traders see exactly this ~ passivity and vanishing pronouns wherever the money went, crisp first-person confidence everywhere else. The language leaks long before the invoice does.

Your Three Questions — And the 80% Rule…

So here is your linguistic toolkit whenever you need a tradesman (or any expert) next:

 When the next expert stands in your kitchen, be it a builder, web designer, accountant, anyone whose work you can't personally judge ~ ask open questions and then do the hardest thing in human conversation: stop talking.

In a good interview, the subject does 80% of the talking. Your silence is the your most powerful tool; their words are the evidence.

Three questions will do it:

1.    “Tell me about the last job you did like this one.” (Listen for past tense, places, specifics ~ the texture of real memory.)

2.    “Walk me through how this job will go.” (Listen for commitment language, who does what, when ~ or is there a fog of “shoulds” and “hopefullys”.)

3.    “Tell me about a job that went wrong.” (This is where your gold is.... The honest answer comes from the person who owns it with an “I”. The other kind blames the customer, the weather, and the builders' merchant — sometimes all three in one sentence, which is its own kind of artistry…)

Notice how none of these questions can be answered with a “yes” or a “no” ~ this is very deliberate to ensure they do the talking and offer you the information you’re seeking.

 None of the questions hands them your words to parrot back. You're not interrogating anyone, you're simply opening a door and letting them describe themselves, which people are wonderfully unable to resist doing.

This Isn't About Catching Liars

One last thing ~ this isn’t a ‘scare piece’, most tradespeople are decent, skilled and honest; many are walking masterclasses in the reliable commitment (“Tuesday, eight o'clock, and please can I have two sugars in my tea”).

The aim isn't to catch a liar here, it's something subtler and more useful, which is to recognise the person whose words already carry your job with commitment you can hear, memory with texture and an “I” that stays put if the conversation turns awkward.

That's L.I.F.E ~ Language Intelligence For Everyday ~ this is what I teach, and it’s the same listening that unlocks a suspect's statement on Monday reads a builder's quote on Saturday morning; and one of those will save you considerably more money…

Thanks for reading.

Paul