Carson V. Heady's Blog, page 4

Unbeatable: The Legend of Vincent Scott – Chapter 19: Land the Step

Vincent Scott left it all on the field, but lost several possible deals and barely hit the number despite having driven the most pipeline of anyone in the company. He still felt like a fraud; preaching pipeline-building practices while he couldn’t get the big deals done.

With the new fiscal year, his role changed again, and most of the pipeline he had driven was handed to other territories for parity purposes while the company claimed it was because of geography or opportunity-based realignment.

As for the specter of defeat from Quintana, he won, but he didn’t beat it.

And he didn’t know how much fight was left in him. Each of these experiences and beatdowns and years of battle royales his entire career took a lot out of him.

Earlier that year, an idea had been casually floated during a family gathering—an idea that would soon alter the trajectory of Vincent Scott’s internal compass. At his children’s baptism, his father-in-law, Dan Westwood, and brother-in-law Jamie had mentioned a plan: a backpacking trip through Mount Rainier and the North Cascades. Vincent nodded along, feigning interest in the way one might when a far-off date offers the luxury of non-commitment.

He had smiled, offered a halfhearted, “Sure, I’d consider it,” and thought little of it thereafter. Seven months out, the notion felt like a dot on the edge of a distant horizon—easily ignorable, certainly unlikely to materialize.

But Dan was not the type to let things drift into the abstract. A meticulous planner by nature and an outdoorsman at heart, Dan began organizing in earnest. Equipment lists circulated. Dates locked. Trail maps studied. And slowly, the murmuring idea evolved into a commitment.

At first, Vincent viewed the entire venture as an escape hatch from the unrelenting grind of work. His career had entered another storm cycle—territory realignments, shifting quotas, pipeline disruptions, and process changes that felt more like tectonic shifts than tweaks. His calendar, once manageable, had become a hurricane of meetings and expectations. Autumn actually encouraged him to go.

So, in a rare move of self-preservation, Vincent said yes.

Dan was elated. He accompanied Vincent to purchase every item he’d need for the journey—a crash course in modern-day camping that made his childhood Boy Scout days feel prehistoric by comparison. A 40-pound pack. A portable tent. Sleeping gear. Rain equipment. A headlamp. Freeze-dried meals and cooking stoves. A hiking shirt and fedora that made him feel like Indiana Jones. And, as Dan emphasized with a wink, the most essential tool of all: a bottle for nighttime relief to avoid wandering into the dark wild alone.

The group would consist of four: Dan, the expedition’s field marshal; Jamie, the eager companion; Robert Earley, a longtime hiking friend of Dan’s and the group’s spiritual center; and Vincent, the first-timer—new to this kind of endurance, but wide open to its impact.

Before setting foot on the trail, the group spent a day in Seattle, where Vincent took a symbolic and literal step toward disconnection. He turned off his work apps—something he almost never did. They visited Pike Place Market, indulged in seafood and local beer, and stayed in a modest hotel sipping bourbon from paper cups. It was scrappy, offbeat, unrefined. It was perfect.

The following morning, they filled up at Denny’s and drove to Sunrise Camp, the highest drivable point on Mount Rainier. There, at the brink of the wild, Vincent strapped on his gear—weighty, awkward, unfamiliar—and began his first real trek since his teenage years.

The climb was challenging, but not punishing. Thanks to Robert and Jamie needing frequent stops, Vincent was afforded time to breathe, observe, and appreciate the view. He found that uphill wasn’t just manageable—it was preferable. With each step, the world behind him vanished and a new one unfolded ahead. The grandeur of nature, unspoiled and commanding, overwhelmed his senses. He often found himself breathless, not from exertion, but from awe.

The daily formations naturally took shape: Dan leading with deliberate purpose, followed by Jamie, then Vincent, and finally Robert, whose presence brought philosophical levity and soulfulness to every break.

Robert was creative, introspective, and slightly untethered from the constraints of modern life. He practiced yoga, composed music, and spoke about spirit animals and life force energy with total sincerity. He referred to Vincent as “Tentacle,” a nickname born from Vincent’s stories of career evolution, emotional searching, and a desire to spread his reach into new experiences. To Robert, Vincent was a man willing to evolve. The octopus symbol stuck.

They hiked by day and camped by night. Meals became sacred rituals. The lightweight stoves turned freeze-dried curry and pad Thai into banquet fare. Oatmeal, which Vincent usually could live without, tasted divine after a day of physical and spiritual workout. The chocolate cake Dan had packed became legendary. Nature was their dining room—and even their restroom—offering views more spectacular than any restaurant in the city.

Rainier was an introduction—a prelude of splendor and serenity. But it was the Cascades that would demand everything from him.

After a night back in Seattle, the group traveled to Marblemount, a small town nestled on the edge of the North Cascades. It was rustic and charming, the kind of place that fueled the imagination. They loaded up on calories, rested in a no-frills hotel, and prepared for the more punishing terrain ahead.

The Cascades were a crucible. The trails narrowed. Snowfields crossed their path. One misstep could result in a devastating fall. At one point, they faced a near-impossible crossing—a chasm split by a vertical waterfall and flanked by perilous drop-offs. Robert, nimble and light, climbed the grassy embankment above and made it across. Dan, ever the adventurer, leapt laterally and scrambled up the far side.

Vincent leapt across and managed to cling to vegetation to prevent falling.

Somewhere between panic and exhilaration, he felt alive. More alive than he had in years.

In that moment, he wasn’t a tech executive or a husband or a father. He was a man clinging to the edge of the Earth, fighting gravity and doubt. He was Indiana Jones. And he didn’t fall.

Over the days that followed, Vincent was tested like never before. On one 16-mile day, climbing Sahale Mountain and descending into the vast wild, he felt completely broken. At one point, he screamed into the wilderness—not in anger, but in cathartic surrender. He had reached what he thought was his limit.

Yet still, he kept going.

He trudged through a waterfall, hands gripping unstable rocks, every step a gamble. He had always believed he could tolerate stress. He had managed crises, negotiated million-dollar deals, endured professional betrayals. But this—this was something else. It was elemental. It was humbling.

The pain was real. When they finally returned to Marblemount, two hours after that brutal trek, every muscle in his body screamed. But his soul? His soul was singing.

He had missed his daughters deeply. In nature, everything reminded him of them. A lone butterfly fluttering across his path brought Sydney to mind. A discarded snack bag of flaming hot Takis echoed Elizabeth’s favorite treat. These small signs became sacred. They tethered him to home even as the trail tried to pull him further inward.

He had discovered a new rhythm for living—one step at a time.

Vincent learned to narrow his focus to the most essential thing: the step ahead. Not the mountain’s peak. Not the looming drop. Not the pain behind him or the uncertainty ahead. Just the step. The next breath. The next hold. The next moment.

Out there, in the deafening silence of the wild, he realized how much noise consumed his daily life—and how much of it was self-inflicted. News, social media, office politics, pressure to achieve, the chase for more. All of it faded when he focused on his footing.

He came back changed.

“Land the step,” he told friends who asked. “Just land the step. When you’re overwhelmed, slow everything down to that level. That moment. That breath.”

He also learned a more primal truth: never eat or poop where you sleep—the bears will get you.

But more importantly, Vincent returned with fire in his heart and clarity in his purpose. He had gone to the mountains to escape, and instead found a version of himself that had been waiting patiently to be rediscovered.

Vincent returned to the aftermath of a turbulent fiscal year shift, staring at a sobering reality: 16 of his top accounts gone. Just like that, major relationships, substantial pipeline, and significant revenue vanished. Some of those accounts, he admitted to himself, could have been salvaged with a fight. But he had gone to battle the year before for similar territory and emerged burned and disillusioned when those customers didn’t buy enough to cover the quota, even if they did take him out for drinks and cigars. This time, he let them go.

With clarity and focus, he assessed the landscape and zeroed in on two key opportunities: public cloud hosting of their solution and the custom applications add-on that had begun gaining traction. These, he determined, would be his new arenas of impact.

Having rediscovered his edge, Vincent navigated the chaos of the restructured organization with more poise. The company had devolved into what he privately called a three-ring circus, marked by a cultural clash between the new inside sales team and the legacy field force.

The resulting dysfunction was a cacophony of turf wars, bruised egos, and confused priorities. Inside sales leadership told their reps to take full control of accounts, treating field counterparts like afterthoughts. But Vincent was insulated by strong partner relationships and a reputation forged in results. He knew his territory. He was still the one they needed.

After the territory shuffle, Vincent found himself aligned to two new reps, Avery and Justin, who now supported the lion’s share of his accounts. He understood the customer’s perspective—their frustration with the perpetual churn of names and faces. Stability had become a luxury. Now, with a hundred-plus accounts under his purview, he returned to the system that had served him well: building the master spreadsheet.

Each cell represented a business relationship: what the account owned, which vendors were active, expiration dates, potential upsells, and cross-sell opportunities. Highlighted fields flagged priorities, and every day, Vincent reviewed the list from top to bottom, asking the same question: what action is needed? Whether nudging a partner, coordinating an internal resource, or following up with a client, he ensured nothing fell through the cracks.

The start of the fiscal year meant travel. First stop: the global conference in Las Vegas. It had become a surreal experience for Vincent—walking those vast hotel corridors, recognizing old faces from his early days at the company, and now being recognized himself. With his growing presence on social media and reputation as the company’s top social seller, he had transformed into something of a known quantity.

September brought the full U.S. seller summit. In the weeks leading up to it, Vincent had been tapped once again by Janet Leary to lead multiple social selling and prospecting presentations. Though he hadn’t yet had the breakout year that cemented his ideas as results-driven, his visibility was rising. Everyone knew who he was. Some respected him. Others were skeptical. But he was in the conversation.

He did have a few wins to showcase—notably FitSmart and BPM, both sourced through social selling. He broke down the deals with precision in his sessions, showcasing that his strategies weren’t just hype; they worked.

Vincent found himself the belle of the ball. Everyone wanted time with him. Vendors courted him. Internal leaders gauged his interest in coming to their teams.

It was a jarring reversal—once viewed as expendable, now sought after. People treated him differently. He could feel the shift.

Church became a place of solace. That fall, his pastor delivered a sermon that struck Vincent like lightning. It was based on Philippians 4:11-13: “I receive my strength from the Lord.” The message? That in seasons of loss and weakness, divine strength would carry you. Vincent teared up in the pew. He felt seen. His wounds from ABM, his unrecognized efforts at subsequent employers—all of it washed over him.

And then Kelly Jergenson, President of Majestech U.S., asked him to appear on her podcast. That single event catapulted his recognition to another level. His name spread. The conversation about his future accelerated.

Vincent Scott had always believed in timing—not the kind that came from cosmic alignment, but the type that stemmed from careful calculation, persistent effort, and the occasional surge of poetic justice. Still, even he had to admit that what transpired in late 2018 and early 2019 was uncanny. It was the kind of story that, in his own words, “you can’t write.”

The bidding war for his services didn’t start with fireworks. It began, surprisingly, with a mundane internal memo. Majestech had some residual budget in the back half of the fiscal year and decided to use it to hire cold-calling prospectors to dive into their untapped whitespace. A throwback initiative. Full-on outbound hunters.

Vincent wasn’t approached. But when he heard about the opportunity, something clicked. This was what he did best—the very thing that had defined his rise at ABM and his innovation at Majestech-Ware. Prospecting, outreach, market penetration. His calling card. He floated the idea to his manager, Dave Anthony, who didn’t hesitate. Within days, Vincent was interviewing with the hiring manager, Keenan Baker.

The interview process was anything but smooth. Keenan pressed hard on Vincent’s uneven performance from Quintana until now. On paper, he was under quota on the one area of the solution they would be pushing. But Vincent knew his numbers told only part of the story. He had driven more new business than anyone. More wins from pure outreach than anyone. And unlike many of his peers, he had a platform—a brand. Director titles from previous companies. A history of turning nothing into something. A compelling narrative.

Keenan didn’t make it easy. He quoted Vincent’s former manager Quintana’s brutal appraisal back to him nearly verbatim. It felt like a trap. Like a trial meant to eliminate him from contention.

To make things more surreal, after one video interview, Vincent ran into none other than Stefan Adams, GM of Large Business Group, in the parking lot as they both headed to lunch. For the first time ever, the two men had a real conversation. Stefan told him plainly: “If this doesn’t work out, there’s a spot for you on my team.”

Despite the hurdles, Vincent pushed forward. He rallied over a dozen colleagues to write letters of recommendation. The role was made for him, and he would leave no doubt. On November 1—his 40th birthday—he received the call while in Mankato, Minnesota, about to meet his parents for lunch. Keenan was on the line.

“I’d love for you to come work for me and build this team. You were always my top choice.”

Keenan later confessed that the aggressive interview tactics were a stress test—a way to gauge how Vincent handled adversity. Privately, Keenan had already heard glowing reviews and believed Vincent was the key to the project’s success.

Everything was aligning. Dallas had always been a dream destination for Vincent, but as a single father, it hadn’t been feasible. Now, it was.

Majestech had deeper roots and higher-level roles in Dallas. The Director role he coveted was the ceiling in Minneapolis. But in Dallas? It was just the beginning.

He and Autumn explored homes. Vincent’s old ABM colleague Jeff Mason offered them a place to stay while they searched. They zeroed in on a great school district in Coppell, and even Elizabeth—who had already moved schools multiple times—was on board. It all felt… destined.

Then came the offer.

A $4,800 raise.

Not the $20,000 to $30,000 he anticipated. Not even close. Majestech covered some moving expenses, but the bump was negligible compared to the increased cost of living. Meanwhile, Accord Business Group was offering $70,000 more in base salary, with uncapped commission and the promise of creative freedom. There was simply no comparison.

Vincent broke it down respectfully for Keenan. After some research, Vincent realized the targets he was being assigned weren’t viable. One was locked into a competitor. Others didn’t even meet the user thresholds to be qualified prospects. For him to merely match his current earnings, he would need to convert 25% of these shaky leads. It wasn’t realistic.

As hard as it was, especially after the move was decidedly a go, Vincent and Autumn had to pass.

And surprisingly, they felt peace. Minnesota was home. Their families were there. Their roots were deep. Perhaps one day, Dallas would still be in the cards. But not for that price. Not under those circumstances.

By December, the decision was final. He told ABG he would join them on March 1, 2019—precisely five years after starting at Majestech, when his stock fully vested. It was a clean break. A new chapter.

From that moment on, everything changed. The politics, the micromanagement, the dysfunction—none of it mattered anymore. Vincent was transitioning out. The friction with his assigned rep, Avery, intensified. She tried to sideline him from relationships he had cultivated for years. Customers saw through it and reached out to him directly. Vendors did too. She was inexperienced, uninformed, and toxic.

Elsewhere, other options dried up. Stefan Adams accepted a promotion overseas, and the role Vincent had been earmarked for at Large Business Group disappeared. Mick Logan left Merit Productivity, and though they made a play for Vincent, it wasn’t compelling. The two largest Majestech competitors also made overtures for Vincent, but why trade familiarity and status for a lateral move?

ABG remained the clear winner. Freedom. Autonomy. Leadership. Recognition.

Vincent coasted into the new year. He planned to give official notice in February, work for two more weeks, then take the final weeks of the month off. His start at ABG would be smooth.

Meanwhile, his influence surged. VP Todd Branson tapped him to present on social selling to 150 employees. He booked podcast interviews. His reputation only grew.

Internally, whispers spread. Reps in Large Business Group kept asking if the rumors of his joining them were true. Vincent had no illusions. If Majestech wanted to keep him, they should have acted sooner.

Even as he prepared to leave, Vincent still contributed. He and a young vendor representative, Kevin Bracken, had accomplished something that seemed nearly impossible. For four long years, a prominent metal production company in Vincent’s territory had ignored every outreach attempt he made. Emails, phone calls, even hand-written notes—they all vanished into the void. Vincent had nearly given up on them. But Kevin, just 25 years old and brimming with the kind of energy and creativity that reminded Vincent of himself a decade prior, saw things differently.

Kevin drove a sleek black Mustang convertible and carried with him the swagger of someone who hadn’t yet been told something was impossible. He had a knack for cutting through the noise. Instead of a cold email or an impersonal LinkedIn message, Kevin created a short, personalized video highlighting what he knew about the CIO’s background and interests. One such interest? TopGolf.

Kevin sent the video with a simple message: “You mentioned your love of golf on LinkedIn. What do you say to a relaxing afternoon at TopGolf? Just drinks, food, and a few swings. No pitch.”

Amazingly, she responded.

She agreed to the meeting, and Kevin invited Vincent to come along. Given the history, Vincent was skeptical. But he also recognized the brilliance of the approach. When they arrived, they kept it light. No sales decks. No forced agenda. Just conversation, appetizers, drinks, and golf. They talked about careers, family, and life—not software or audits.

And then, almost casually, she brought it up.

She admitted that Majestech had audited their organization five years ago and never followed up with anything valuable. That experience had tainted their view of the company, leading them to ignore all outreach since. But something about Kevin’s approach—creative, fun, human—had broken through.

Then came the surprising part: she began to speak about a failed data project from two years earlier. They had spent significant time and budget trying to stand up a solution that never delivered. Now, with a new roadmap forming, she asked if Majestech might be able to come in and help reframe the vision.

Vincent was floored. After years of chasing, a door had opened—not because of persistence alone, but because of timing, teamwork, and a refreshingly human approach. He didn’t pitch anything that day. He simply acknowledged the opportunity, praised Kevin, and offered full support. That was enough.

Then came the hospital account.

It had been passed down unceremoniously from Large Business Group, likely due to a lack of activity or interest. Vincent had tried everything he could think of over the first six months with no success. The silence was deafening. No replies. No traction. Nothing.

But in January, Vincent learned that David Anthony, his director, would be visiting town. That was all the opportunity he needed.

He leveraged David’s visit with precision. Rather than schedule fluff meetings with warm accounts, Vincent aimed high. He reached out to the coldest, most disengaged accounts—the ones that had ghosted him or never given him a chance.

He sent direct messages:

“Our division director will be in town, and I would love to introduce you. This is a great opportunity to get exposure and support at the executive level. We’d love to host you at our office.”

To his surprise, it worked. Not only did the hospital agree to a meeting, but so did the metal production company and several other hard-to-crack accounts.

Vincent optimized the schedule like a military operation. Instead of traveling to client sites, he invited all of them to Majestech’s office. It gave him the upper hand: streamlined logistics, reduced drive time, and a better platform to showcase hospitality and professionalism.

In one single day, Vincent and David met with 11 different accounts. The next day, they added six more. The energy was electric. Long-dormant conversations reignited. Fresh opportunities surfaced. And relationships that had grown cold began to thaw.

Elsewhere, accounts that had once seemed hopeless suddenly became active. A fintech startup that had ghosted Vincent for three straight years began responding. Something had shifted—whether it was his rising reputation, the buzz around his podcast appearances, or simply the culmination of his years of steady groundwork.

A financial services customer that had been relatively quiet made a major acquisition that doubled the size of their contract with Majestech. That deal alone would be enough to move the needle.

Vincent’s final quarter with the company was no longer a quiet send-off. It was becoming his most productive stretch ever. His pipeline surged. His forecast firmed. The numbers didn’t lie: he was heading out on a high note.

And then, just as he had one foot out the door, another twist. David Anthony, still hoping to retain him, secured approval for a rare mid-year promotion. Vincent would be named Senior Territory Manager in March. The title was meaningful. Symbolic. It was a nod to his brand, his results, and his relentless drive.

Despite having already committed to leave for Accord Business Group, Vincent Scott operated as if he hadn’t. It was a mindset he called “merger mentality.” Like two companies moving through a merger, both sides needed to continue running their operations as if nothing would change—because, in business, change was never guaranteed until ink hit the page. Even with a job offer in hand, Vincent couldn’t afford to let his current business lapse. He had a bonus pending. His final stock vesting was perfectly aligned with a March 1 exit. Until that date, he was all in.

At the same time, Vincent’s profile was on the rise. He had become a regular guest on multiple sales and leadership podcasts, where his enthusiasm and clarity around the art and science of selling came alive. The very things that sometimes drained him in his day job—navigating bureaucracy, internal politics, broken processes—vanished when he was behind the mic. Talking about the craft, inspiring others, that’s where he thrived.

But his day job? It was now second nature. Deals were getting done faster, smarter. Vincent was earning discretionary funding from internal councils simply by crafting compelling, empathetic, story-driven proposals. He was also becoming the unofficial fireman of Majestech—routinely called in to clean up messes created by others, especially by his counterpart, Avery.

Avery, his assigned inside sales partner, lacked both the institutional knowledge and the finesse needed for the role. She routinely tried to muscle customers into deals without understanding their priorities, technical needs, or even the most basic dynamics of their vendor relationships. When she botched a deal with a CIO by offering a garbled, illogical proposal, Vincent stepped in. He followed up with a thoughtful call, rewrote the proposal, aligned it with the customer’s actual business goals, and got it approved by leadership. The deal closed. Everyone got paid—including Avery. But it was clear: if left to her own devices, the account would’ve been lost.

One of the most glaring examples of her dysfunction came with a major Minnesota railway. The account was up for renewal—a strategic moment to not only retain but expand Majestech’s footprint. Avery insisted that renewals were her domain and tried to force Vincent out of the process entirely. But she scheduled calls without inviting him, proposed additional features without explaining them, and failed to listen to vendor input or customer feedback. Unsurprisingly, the customers became frustrated.

Vincent, meanwhile, waited patiently. When those customers came to him—bypassing Avery entirely—they did so not just because they needed Majestech. They needed him. And he delivered. He structured the renewal, worked with finance to craft a deal that offered measurable value and deep discounts without compromising revenue. The railway bought everything he suggested. The transaction was collaborative, respectful, and strategically aligned. It was the kind of work that made Vincent feel alive.

Behind the scenes, however, Avery was growing more combative. She escalated complaints to her boss, Nancy, accusing Vincent of overstepping his bounds. Nancy, unsure who to believe, began scheduling “alignment” calls. But Vincent, always armed with the full scope of account history and strategy, quickly neutralized the concerns.

Nancy’s boss, Arthur, had developed a reputation as the intimidating force within the organization—an approver of last resort whom others avoided. Vincent, however, had no fear. If a deal required Arthur’s signature, Vincent went directly to him. This made waves. Arthur began to question why Avery wasn’t the one bringing forward these proposals. The answer became clear during joint calls: Vincent did all the work. Avery didn’t know the accounts. She didn’t know the products. She didn’t know how to sell. Her incompetence had become impossible to hide.

Majestech’s sales force was now a divided house. Legacy Majestech-Ware field sellers like Vincent reported through one chain of command—Dave Anthony up to John Lewis and VP Todd Branson. Meanwhile, the inside sales team operated under a different umbrella, with different philosophies, and a wildly different playbook. Worse yet, both teams were being paid on the same accounts.

This turf war became toxic.

Vincent, however, stayed above the fray. “Nobody owns accounts,” he’d often say. “Especially when a dozen people are paid on them.” His language focused on empowerment—“How can I support you?”—and it made all the difference. But while he tried to forge a partnership with Avery, she repeatedly undermined him. Eventually, he began leaving her out entirely. Calls weren’t shared. Updates weren’t provided. It was all ‘need to know’—and in his eyes, she didn’t.

Ironically, her incompetence elevated his profile. When a new initiative launched with a prominent construction firm in St. Paul, Vincent was asked to lead it—even though there was no net-new opportunity. Why? Because he held the relationships. He knew the C-suite. And within weeks, he closed new business anyway.

Colleagues began to refer to him as “The Deal Whisperer.”

Then came the real test: Bill Process Management.

Vincent had a strong relationship with BPM’s senior leaders, Charles Royal and Shane Madden. He had helped architect a massive data transformation project—a potential $5M deal over several years. But now, their core application renewal was due. Avery tried to play hardball. No discount. No flexibility.

Vincent had promised them a holistic approach to their strategic partnership—a renewal based on the full picture, including the data lake project. Avery, ignoring that promise, stonewalled them. She didn’t even know what they used or what they needed. Charles called Vincent in a panic. He was furious. The account was about to implode.

Then, the unthinkable happened.

Arthur and Nancy tried to get Charles to implicate Vincent—to say he had promised an unauthorized discount. Charles immediately called Vincent to tell him. So did the vendor.

Furious, Vincent drafted and deleted a strongly worded email to Arthur multiple times before finally turning to Dave Anthony. Quietly. Respectfully. Dave assured him he would handle it.

Days later, Arthur had to call Vincent and ask him—hat in hand—to go close the deal. He gave Vincent carte blanche.

It took Vincent 45 minutes.

He reviewed the customer’s budget, layered in the strategic value, added key products to justify deeper discounts, and secured a verbal commitment on the future $5M data project. Charles then sent a glowing email to every senior leader at Majestech, including the VP, GM, and everyone who had once tried to have Vincent removed from the deal.

That moment was redemption.

And then came her—Avery—trying once again to challenge him, even lecturing him on sales tactics after showing up hungover to a business summit. She accused him of “overstepping” for introducing a partner to help on a data project—an introduction completely independent of her renewal responsibilities.

Vincent had had enough.

He moved quietly, independently. He managed the hospital deal, other net-new logos, and major expansions without her knowledge. If she asked—and she rarely did—he kept responses vague.

Despite her interference, 2019 was becoming Vincent’s greatest professional year.

Vincent had been ready to walk. For months, he’d planned every detail of his exit from Majestech. The frustrations had piled high—bureaucratic slowdowns, politics, a misfiring partnership with a junior rep who undercut him at every turn.

It should have been an easy decision.

But Vincent didn’t move.

Because something changed.

In those final months, as he drove deal after deal across the finish line, something stirred inside him that he hadn’t felt in years: momentum. The recognition, the platform, the influence he had fought so long to build at Majestech—it was finally materializing. Executives were calling. His name carried weight. He was being invited to speak on all-hands calls, guest on podcasts, present his playbook to leaders who had once ignored him. His once-tenuous credibility had become an undeniable brand.

He wasn’t just a rep anymore. He was the guy.

ABG still dangled the promise of a fresh start. But it came with a cost: starting over. Rebuilding brand equity. Proving himself again in a new arena. And the more he thought about it, the less sense it made to leave behind everything he had built—just when it was finally working.

It wasn’t fear. It was clarity.

So he stayed. Not because it was easy. But because it was right.

A resort in Florida placed a huge follow-up order. A fintech company that had ghosted him for years signed. A credit card processor doubled their business. A mining company, a metal trader, a surveillance firm, an airline—deals that had once seemed lost were landing one after another.

The pipeline swelled. Forecast accuracy improved. He was tracking at 180% of quota.

Then came the final week of the fiscal year.

Vincent had already turned in an admirable performance, but he wasn’t done. The hospital that had been dumped from Large Business Group after they unsuccessfully chased a deal for 3 years was still in his sights.

Vincent Scott had lined everything up with surgical precision: a full-day workshop had already been conducted, mock pricing scenarios created and reviewed, internal approvals secured, and all stakeholders seemingly aligned. For any other seller, that would’ve been enough.

But not here. Not now.

Just when he thought the final stretch would be smooth, chaos reared its familiar head. An executive at the hospital took unexpected bereavement leave. The customer’s procurement team asked for language modifications that would delay contract finalization. A key SKU was priced incorrectly by the vendor. The purchase order—promised days earlier—was now mysteriously missing. And to top it off, the hospital’s CFO, the final approver, was unreachable due to a last-minute travel emergency.

To top it off, the CIO claimed with all of the changes, that this $10M multi-year deal was over budget by $121,000.

But Vincent had weathered worse. This was the fourth quarter. The final snap. And the biggest deal of the year was slipping away—unless he took action.

So he went back into the weeds.

He triple-checked every SKU, every comment thread, every approval chain, every line item in the proposal.

It was summer, so many employees of the vendor partners were on vacation and unreachable. Scouring LinkedIn, Vincent found executives at these partners and sent blind calendar invites for an emergency meeting. He was seeking literally any last-minute investments he could apply for that would eradicate that delta, prevent this from having to go back to the hospital’s Board, and get this thing signed with no time left on the clock.

He identified and unlocked more than $150,000 in net-new value: bundling in critical add-ons that aligned with the hospital’s long-term IT roadmap. He tied in a strategic advisory component that previously had only been discussed verbally but never proposed. He worked directly with the vendor’s contracts team to rush legal adjustments while also liaising with his own finance director to confirm booking accuracy.

Then came the masterstroke: he wrote a single email.

Not just any email. A manifesto.

In it, Vincent summarized the entire arc of the engagement and investments that Majestech had made up to this point in a good faith deal—from the massive workshop investment, to the solution fit, to the last-minute adjustments. He broke it down in a way that wasn’t just digestible—it was undeniable. Clear, crisp, compelling.

He copied everyone: customer, vendor, legal, finance, and both his frontline and executive leaders. No ambiguity. No room for interpretation. Just resolve.

Then, he waited.

Friday, June 28th, 2019. The sun was starting to dip over the Twin Cities and Vincent was sitting in an empty conference room in his office.

It was 4:36 PM CST.

Then—

IM from Heath Nichols, the vendor rep who was awaiting the purchase order for processing after sending the signature page out for authorization:

“I got it, bro!”

The deal had been signed.

Vincent froze.

Then he exhaled. And for the first time all week, he allowed himself to smile.

He had done it.

Not just a good year—his best.

Jubilation.

Not just 100% or 120%. 186% of goal.

In came ringing endorsements and praise from across the org. Executives from every corner of the company reached out with notes, calls, even congratulations from the VP who once questioned if Vincent would last.

It was Rocky. It was For Love of the Game.

Vincent Scott had not just survived the corporate crucible.

He had ascended.

The following week, Vincent Scott won President’s Club for this amazing year.

And, at the end of the week, due to more massive company re-shifting, Vincent’s job was eliminated.

Unbeatable: The Legend of Vincent Scott – Chapter 18: Moneyball

Losing is inevitable, especially if you want to win. Vincent Scott was down on the mat, but not out.

The lost deals or the ones where he got put through the wringer by process taught him a great deal about potential blind spots and ways to see around corners better in the future.

Furthermore, he was able to realize in hindsight that all of the leads he gave to Accord Business Group went nowhere. All of that was a waste of time. However, Mick Logan and Merit Productivity turned the deals he handed them to gold. Vincent needed to lean in there.

He started the new fiscal year in July 2017 with a new outlook. The vendors he worked with were overwhelmingly lousy, but Mick Logan aggressively closed new business. Vincent would give him literally everything he could. Vincent also realized because of how hard it was to get deals done that he needed to flood the pipeline to cover quota; the vendors weren’t doing anything, so he had to do it himself.

Finally, while chasing all of the net new logos made gains, it did not offset the lack of upselling in the already managed accounts. Vincent had counted on vendors to drive that after he prospected and they failed. So, having kept these new logos Vincent signed and working to grow them, he would turn his focus on the other managed accounts as well, drive pipeline maniacally and hand everything to Mick Logan.

Vincent had something all new to prove in the fight for his life and relevance.

The best year for the territory in 5 years and 2nd best growth in the region, the largest deal in the channel and 3 perfect appraisals, plus taking a shortened paternity leave to close 11 deals wasn’t good enough.

Vincent had never been more motivated in his entire life.

He had been awarded a stigma. Going to a rockstar new boss who undoubtedly now thought he was a waste of space. Part of Vincent was upset with the unfair perspective of him that existed and was so widespread. However, when people have zero expectations of you or have written you off, it’s easier to impress them.

He very quickly needed to do two things: level set with his new boss Jeremy and ensure he knew Vincent vehemently disagreed with the lies Quintana stood for and had put on his appraisal; that he was not a believer at all in going to HR but numerous trusted advisors convinced him he had no choice based on the circumstances. Second, he had to put his money where his mouth was. He had to shine. He had to make a comeback of epic proportion.

The majority of the customers, certainly Vincent’s close team and most of the vendors were ecstatic to have him. He was constructing newsletters and events and webinars and it was the most contact they had ever gotten by far. The team was getting coaching, direction, patience and leadership. And the vendors were being handed pipeline instead of being forced to sell alone.

Vincent looked at every area of failure and found a solution.

Vendors didn’t want Vincent encroaching on their sacred relationships, so he had to motivate them by dangling a carrot: new services business. Vincent would go to them and rather than asking them to give him business like most sellers did, he would offer to put together outreach whose outcome would yield new deployment business for the vendor. He had to find a way to entice them with potential for the high margin stuff they did while getting them to do their lower margin work that Vincent actually cared about. And he rallied hard behind Mick and Merit Productivity because they were the only ones actually getting anything done for him at the time.

It was a ruthless business. Vincent realized these people did not care about him at all. He wasn’t here to make friends. All the friendly banter he had with everyone hadn’t amounted to a hill of beans when he was obliterated on his appraisal and branded as washed up garbage. He had to selfishly manage his business and time. He had to play probability and odds; dispassionately betting on people and vendors who could execute. He had to identify and rally behind and nurture large deals while scaling with his extended team and vendors on smaller ones, all under his watchful eye and temperament.

He wanted it all. Anything short of world domination was failure.

Vincent canceled nearly all cadence calls with vendors. They were pointless. They turned into sitting around for 30 minutes talking about nothing. The weather. The lack of customer responses, and vendors asking Vincent to hand them something. No thanks.

Before you can feast, you have to set the table. Vincent spent hours in the early-going of the year putting together a robust spreadsheet with every account in the patch, account details, contacts, what they owned and highlighted what could be sold to them. He stack-ranked them by priority, propensity and potential. It was an idea he lifted and built on from a teammate named Johnny Smythe. And it was brilliant, because he wound up using it every single day multiple times.

The first half of his year would be spent aggressively prospecting and ferociously driving pipeline. The back half would be singularly focused on knocking down absolutely everything compiled in the first half.

Vincent spent a ton of time on LinkedIn trying to connect with everyone Director and above in all accounts in his territory. He gained over 500 new contacts in just 2 weeks. He created a survey based specifically on the types of conversations most customers wanted to have that led to opportunities – related to how they could utilize data, better collaboration, and some of the applications they used today and how Majestech apps could complement them.

Using the prospecting efforts and surveys, Vincent drove 16 completely net new C-Suite conversations in July alone. It was unprecedented. Nothing like it had ever been done at Majestech.

Vincent was reporting all of his activity and results to Jeremy, who seemed very receptive. Jeremy came across as willing to give Vincent a clean slate and expressed optimism, but Vincent had become so skeptical and jaded over the years of being beaten to a pulp by Corporate America that he never knew if he actually meant it or was just saying it. It didn’t matter, anyway. The work was just getting started and Vincent had to give it everything he had.

It was working. Vincent’s approach yielded conversations and then pipeline.

Within the first quarter of the new fiscal year, Vincent Scott had over 5 times the pipeline of anyone else doing his role in the world – in the way of total opportunities and potential revenue. His survey was shared company-wide as a best practice and he won an Impact Award for it.

But driving conversations and pipeline meant nothing unless he closed.

Quintana had put it out there that Vincent wasn’t a closer and wasn’t capable of leading the team. Her betrayal was also motivating to Vincent in other areas: he upped his gym workouts. He did step challenges with many former colleagues and friends with his fitness band and won every week at all costs.

The almost mechanical exertion of his body took his mind off everything else and gave him energy, and it was one of the very few things he could control.

Control the controllables. Vincent could control the quality of his outreach, quantity of messages and his consistency of execution. Over and over and over again.

This is when Vincent became an obsessive student of the game. If the average seller was reaching out to 1 or 2 people trying to get a customer meeting, and he was reaching out to 30 to 50 C-Suite and VP, who had the better chance? It didn’t matter how technically savvy and smart his colleagues were; Vincent would out-work, out-hustle, out-maneuver.

He may not get the CEO or CIO or CFO on the first shot, but he could certainly meet an influencer or deputy; get the VP or COO or some domino to fall to get in the door. It gets him at the pulse of the organization to understand the landscape and challenges. And then when you message the CIO again and again, you’re able to report back the intel you glean from those in their organization. You have better perspective, which makes you valuable.

He was doing mass outreach via LinkedIn while also engaging via newsletter touches and webinar touches and inviting them to participate in offers. It may take a month or several for the planets to align and someone to respond, but if Vincent kept investing, dividends would arrive. If you replicate this approach in 200 accounts, your probability of meaningful connections and contacts and conversations is 100%.

It was pure Moneyball.

And if Vincent got a meeting, he would walk out with pipeline galore: sometimes 5 or 6 different types of opportunities based on where the conversation went. He didn’t talk products or services; he asked questions and learned what outcomes they were trying to create. Then he scheduled follow-ups with specialists or partners, and let them run. Pass the baton, rinse and repeat. Nudge and prod and ensure the ball keeps moving down the field, but go create more.

He also picked up another best practice from Lucy Burke; she had told Vincent she went down her list of accounts every single day asking herself what – if anything – she can do to impact any opportunity at that account that day. If there’s something that can or needs to be done, like a note to the customer or a vendor or something internal that needs to happen, she does it. If not, she moves on. Down the list, every single day. Whether you have 10 accounts or 200, it works. Vincent adopted that in the summer of 2017 and it worked like a charm. It was a daily non-negotiable before he got sucked into the minutiae of any given day, and it enabled him to leave no stone unturned, never lose momentum and never fail to prioritize or sit on something too long.

It wasn’t enough to find a deal and try to craft it; there were internal units you had to go through to get literally anything approved like discounts or incentives or collateral or reports. And they had to be aggressively managed just like everything else. Vincent learned that some of his most important selling was internal. He had to master that as well by understanding what mattered to internal stakeholders, endearing himself to them and selling them on why this outcome was good for the both of them.

What worked best everywhere was humility. Coming to them, hat in hand, graciously asking for feedback or guidance or coaching or their expertise – even if that was the farthest thing from what he actually needed. Gently, calmly inquiring about status, being understanding of what was also their undoubtedly overwhelming schedule. Flies with honey. This is how Vincent Scott learned to get everything he wanted when he wanted.

Vincent at 39 was a far cry from Vincent in his 20’s at ABM; he had learned that while being a bull in a China shop and manhandling every situation could shake stuff up, it was murder to his reputation and success rate. Vincent was learning the art and finesse of gaining advocacy and assistance. Even if Vincent’s collaborator was completely incompetent, he had to coax them to deliver what he needed. He learned to tell a story. To paint a picture. And how to get people to provide what he needed to get the deal done. Get it, and keep moving forward.

Vincent then started creating specific plays with vendors on certain solution areas. He would find vendors that specialized in certain areas, be it analytics programs, security, collaboration tools, etc.; not only would he have them create collateral he could share strategically, but they would do webinars and events and workshops together. Vincent went out and got the contacts wherever he could find them and he mass-messaged them to put butts in seats.

A 1:Many philosophy designed solely to get 1:1 meetings. Law of averages. And if you do that enough with 10-to-50 contacts apiece at 200 accounts, it’s impossible to fail to fill your funnel. Every play you run nets dozens of new conversations that never would have happened otherwise.

Vincent couldn’t shake the feeling of inadequacy and the imposter syndrome and assumed everyone he encountered naturally thought he was trash. But it fueled him as well. Quintana Navarro had awakened in Vincent Scott a smoldering fire he had never encountered before. He had never had to prove himself like this before and he was obsessed with giving it everything he had no matter what.

Jake Zuniga dubbed Vincent “Man on Fire,” like the Denzel Washington movie. And he was. Vincent took matters into his own hands and the bull by the horns, leaving nothing to chance: doing is own prospecting, outreach, meetings, creating ridiculous amounts of pipeline and handing it to partners and repeating. He safeguarded his calendar, talking to who he wanted to and when. Vendors had to earn his time by actually doing something, and he held customers accountable to the mutually agreed upon milestones.

Vincent raised the flag immediately every time there was even the slightest whiff of a compete scenario or situation where they could benefit from extra internal help and then he managed those resources, too. Vincent wouldn’t be burned or fooled again. And if these other colleagues were going to get credit for his wins, by goodness he was going to get their efforts.

It had to work. Autumn quit working at the hospital and started staying home with Sydney so the pressure was really on Vincent Scott. Perform or perish. Success couldn’t come soon enough for a guy who felt like he was racing against time. He never anticipated supporting a family by himself. Elizabeth turned 10 and was playing volleyball. Vincent was burning the candle on both ends. Z thought for sure he’d burn out, but Vincent assured him that was impossible.

Vincent differed from everyone else in his role because he didn’t care as much or need to know as much about the technology behind the solutions. He could get in more C-Suite rooms than anyone else and bring the smart people with him. He had mastered this process.

Trucking Group International was one of the most interesting stories of the year. Headquartered in Los Angeles, their largest dealer, who bought all of their services for the parent company, was in Minneapolis. And if Large Business Group accounts don’t buy enough or are forecasted to miss quota, they just dump the accounts on the small and midsize organization: Vincent’s unit. They were like the minor leagues; always looking for prospects, losing the ones upward who take off and getting the demotions for the ones that don’t pan out.

TGI wouldn’t give Vincent the time of day. They had recently changed CEO and CIO and when that happened, all of the potential deals on the table at any of their dealers died. They wiped the slate clean. The new CIO – Mike Jericho – notoriously hated vendors of any kind. He wouldn’t return Vincent’s calls; Vincent managed to get one of his project managers to talk to him but that never really went anywhere meaningful. He knew he had to do something different. 

So Vincent went over and around his head – anywhere he could think to go – connecting with the new CEO, the CFO, and the Treasurer of the Board. The CIO was infuriated.

Vincent found a colleague whose wife worked for a TGI dealer in L.A. by leveraging LinkedIn. Turns out, she knew all kinds of insider information, shared it with her husband who shared it with Vincent. Vincent then used LinkedIn to meet the other C-Suites and they forced the reluctant CIO to take a meeting with Vincent and the team he was assembling.

Vincent was often successful where others were not because he was willing to do whatever it took. An excruciating meeting with multiple levels of TGI executive leadership and a Majestech executive and numerous colleagues Vincent flew in, where the CIO dressed Vincent down and shamed him for forcing a meeting where he had to now tell Vincent no in front of all of their executives wasn’t Vincent’s first choice. But he endured.

Mike Jericho lambasted Vincent and Majestech and all vendors the majority of the meeting, which Vincent had spent weeks preparing for and prepping his teammates and bringing on a partner for, in front of Majestech’s Applications VP. Vincent took it, let Jericho finish, and then said, “Mike, I completely understand where you’re coming from. From your team who has met with me over the last several months, I’ve learned what you’re trying to build and why: your fleet can’t talk to each other. They are using disconnected systems, and you and TGI have tried numerous ways to fix the problem. We can help, or we wouldn’t be here. Give me something to sink our teeth into that is impactful. I want to help you win. If I can’t, you’ll never hear from me again.”

Their biggest international problem was lack of ability to communicate amongst the dealers. To share data. To share mission critical information about shipments with one another when multiple dealers had to get involved. Majestech’s solution would have fixed all of that. And they knew it. But they were very stubborn. 

Jericho was determined to figure out their own way of doing it. He was a new CIO and needed a win. They had spent millions upon millions of dollars creating a spinoff branch just for innovation – and it had tanked. It was like he hated vendors so much that he refused to accept a better way. And Majestech would have been less expensive with greater ROI than any other he was researching. That’s why Vincent getting to the Board was the linchpin.

And that’s why Vincent knew Jericho needed a win. He had been with the company for about a year. Scuttlebutt was that they were going to scrap his innovation team and give him the boot. Vincent cut through the garbage and the “sale” and just asked how he could help him win – what it would look like and what mattered.

Profit margins were excruciatingly low. They had lost a couple of major shipping contracts. Their 600 dealers worldwide were using about 200 different systems for what Majestech would do and the most-used system was used differently everywhere it was in place.  

Because of the inconsistency and the low margins, they were really unattractive to potential new trucking companies they tried to sign into their consortium. Jericho had a vision of creating a platform whereby he could resell solutions and services to all of these potential new dealers – not just IT, but intranet, websites, ecommerce. Really anything revenue generating. Staplers and pens, even. ‘You sign up with TGI, and you get this value-added service,’ basically.

Everyone has to leave the bargaining table with something when you make a deal.  

Darren Miller – the Managing Partner at Accord Business Group – also knew Jericho. They had worked together years ago. ABG had the ability to re-sell the licensing needed and build out this company-wide strategy and platform. Vincent knew Jericho hated him and Majestech, so he passed the baton to Darren Miller and Nick Aragon and backed off completely. Darren and Jericho went to lunch and it was full steam ahead. Deal done.

Vincent was past his own ego. He didn’t care what it took to win, even if it meant handing it off and getting out of the way. He had taken it as far as he could. It still happened and he still got the W.

There were additional data deals with a dozen other accounts, growth with the gym management company FitSmart, and new deals or potential deals with a company that did food service for schools, a pharmaceutical organization, a start-up who tracked hospital surgical equipment, a large hotel chain, a machinery company, a large retailer – they all needed data management. 

Vincent would start to hear from random colleagues that the word on the street was that he was killing it; that he was a rock star. But because of what Quintana had done to him, he didn’t let himself believe any of it. He did not let up. He couldn’t. He kept going at 100% of capacity all day every day because of that chip on his shoulder.

His new team, and his boss Jeremy Rivers, were extremely well regarded in the business unit and now Vincent Scott was the star.

But it wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows. Merit started making the decision to pull Mick out of some smaller potatoes deals Vincent wanted to bring them into in the hopes they would beget larger deals. It was short-sightedness. He lost a big potential deal to a competitor. Lost an RFP to a competitor that they spent months on. Then it was a problem with FitSmart; they were going to bite off on a pilot to revamp their entire platform, modernize and automate it. There was a devices component and they would be rolling the platform out to more gyms. The deal was supposed to be done in early 2017. It kept dragging and dragging; FitSmart was positioning themselves to be bought, and at the end of 2017 they were – and the new company wanted nothing to do with Majestech.

No matter how hard you work or how much you control, there will always be completely unexpected twists, turns and tornadoes. How you survive and stay in the fight makes all the difference in the world.

Vincent trudged on. Call after call. Report after report. Day after day. He would look at the date on his computer every morning and just focus on it and think about how he could maximize just that day. He knew what to do.

While the fiscal year started with a flurry of activity and positive attention for incredible pipeline growth, it hit a rough patch. Vincent had a 59% October 2017 – it was completely out of his control. Just deal cycles. But he was hovering at 84% nearly halfway through the year with the biggest quota months ahead. 

He was also getting sucked into a lot of non-revenue generating activity. Some he could avoid, some he couldn’t. The big pharmaceutical company that Large Business Group dumped on him was used to a lot of attention; they were managed before at a 7:1 ratio of customers to account manager. Now they were being managed at a 200:1 ratio. Vincent had to do a lot of damage control over the span of control and to manage their expectations when they wanted literally daily calls with Vincent’s team. It just wasn’t possible.

He found a specialist from every single business group he had, got them on a call with the customer, and wowed them by showing them all of the people who supported their account. There were 13 people on including Vincent. Sure, they wouldn’t always be around, but Vincent finessed the situation by showing the team that was built around them and made sure they knew he could tap this roster on their behalf.

He also got saddled with the infamous OV Group – after they had bought everything Vincent sold them that another team got paid for and now that they carried an additional $1.2 million quota he would never hit. Quintana’s curse just kept doling out the punishment.

Jeremy Rivers asked Vincent to serve on a social selling team representing the business unit. They were tasked with putting together a demo video for the channel and everyone on the team was supposed to contribute pieces to it. When it came down to the day they were making the video, only 3 team members of 15 showed up, nobody had anything prepared, and they were just talking in circles about how this needed to be done and unsure what to do.

So Vincent just took charge. He told them he would share his screen and start recording, and he just walked through a day in the life of how he prospected. And that video became infamous within Majestech-Ware. It was shared broadly, catching the attention of senior executives. Vincent was now being asked to present his process in many more places.

Using this process to get meetings with customers, bringing in his Technical Data Specialist Prens Koruyucu, Nate Gammons his business app specialist, and partners like Nick and Mick, he was drawing so much positive attention that Prens’ boss – Jason Quartz – and his boss’s boss, the VP Maury Bobrick – even hopped on some of their calls to listen to them work their magic. Jason was telling people Vincent was one of the best in the business – a far cry from the condemnation Quintana served up. 

And Vincent was heaping his team with praise, making them more motivated to work with him.

At the turn of the calendar year into 2018, they actually changed their roles mid-year and brought on call center reps to manage some of the accounts in their massive territories. Vincent had a new GM named Janet Leary, who actually asked him to present his process at their new year kickoff.

The fight to the finish was a grind. Vincent would spend countless hours talking to customers and vendors, believing they were working toward a deal only to have something unravel – a competitive threat, a licensing issue, a discounting issue because of licensing, funding dollars that didn’t come through, the signor would be on vacation when the deal had to come in, or the partner dropped the ball and didn’t do something on time or what they were told to do. Endless, countless frustrations. 

What Vincent had to come to learn was that half the battle was knowing how you could manipulate the licensing, merger and acquisition scenarios, funding, credits – all of the little nuances. So much else was an act of congress – getting buy-in and support from the business stakeholders, taking it to the board, awaiting approval or budget and then ultimately getting shot down. Vincent had to augment natural results or results from net new or upsell sales motions with manipulation of licensing configurations and the game within the game.  

He had a deal at an airline. A partner out of California brought it to him. They would build a data and predictive maintenance model with a platform that would interact with all of their data sources. The partner was proposing to the customer they’d sell a month-to-month licensing structure and it would start when the project kicked off in October. Two problems with that: one – if they sold that model, Vincent’s team realizes one month of that revenue at a time, instead of 12 months upfront. Second – they would be buying in October and Vincent would get none of that money in this fiscal year.

But you don’t get a win unless the other players win, too. So, Vincent would have to create a scenario where everybody gets something they want – something that’s attractive.  He needed to make it worth the partner’s while with funding dollars to do it his way and structure the deal all upfront but with payment terms so Majestech realized the revenue now but the customer paid when they wanted to. Learning the art of the deal made all the difference.

It was through this that Vincent realized an ultimate superpower: transparency. He pulled back the curtain and showed them the wizard; if the customers understood how and why Majestech cared how the revenue hit and how they incentivized, he could guide the customer to do what was best for everyone. Why wouldn’t a customer do what would get them the best deal?

During those final six months, Vincent was being paraded around for his prospecting and pipeline generation process, all while big deals were going to competitors or stalling due to executive or budgetary changes. He felt like a fraud, but he could not let up.

Vincent also got a new boss at that time; Jeremy Rivers left to join the startup partner John Deever and Matt Rockwell had started, and David Anthony was promoted to take his spot. Dave actually respected Vincent for his unique skill set and supported him taking this burgeoning brand as the best prospector in the business to the top of the sales rankings. He told Vincent, at 39 years old, that he was the “new type of seller this organization needs.”

It didn’t get any easier. A large hotel chain – Vincent had all the right relationships, all of the compelling use cases. But they were a century old and old school family-owned and while Vincent could sell the concept to anybody within the business, the CEO didn’t want to change their ways of doing business. That could have been a million-dollar deal.

Every deal Vincent did win took monumental effort and resulted in complete upheaval amongst the team, customers, and vendors.

He had a mining company who got the platform for internal collaboration with their various sites. They had made a few acquisitions in recent years. Their holding company was sans agreement while the primary mining company was the only one with Majestech’s product.  

Vincent called in their vendor to construct a deal including all of the subsidiaries. This thing took massive amounts of time; licensing complexities didn’t make it any easier. Vincent had to personally go out and meet with the CEO a couple of times to stress why this was a good deal, even though on paper he understood some of his concerns. Vincent was absolutely asking them to move up their intended deployment dates, and the licensing model actually required them to buy bundles containing some of the stuff they already owned; Vincent extended a sizable discount – which took a lot of doing internally to secure – but they were confused and the vendor was doing no favors with their incompetence in sizing and scoping this thing.  

Vincent landed the deal, but in the aftermath, they felt like they got hosed because the vendor didn’t come through on several of the promised action items. No matter how much it wasn’t Vincent’s fault, he was always at the front of the deal and he had to take it on the chin. 

The positive coming out of all of this, though, was that Vincent was getting a lot of notoriety with Janet Leary. He had to secure larger discounts from her, and she was obviously privy to his speaking tour on prospecting and the pipeline he was driving, his surveys, and other buzz he was getting from the field.  

Even though Vincent had deals going belly-up left and right, he was also building more of them than anyone else by far.

Janet loved his creativity of how he was positioning deals, structuring them and his thought process on long-term, multi-year strategy with customers. He would do whatever it took creatively and collaboratively to construct and win a deal, and that earned him a lot of points and positive press.

Vincent had the deals lined up to hit his number, but they would fall flat, get snagged, get pushed several months meaning they would fall into next year if at all. And then vendors would sell with their own self-interests; as they made more margin on month-to-month direct deals rather than putting it on Majestech paper, they would sell them behind Vincent’s back without his knowledge, meaning major hits to Vincent team’s and his performance versus quota. They got 1 month of a deal instead of 12. It also made Vincent’s forecast look inaccurate and Quintana already had him skittish enough about that.  

It made Vincent look stupid like he had no idea what the vendors were doing with their own product in his own territory. It was another area where there was no control.

Vincent fought back. He realized something; because he was so good at creating a compelling event or manipulating the variables, he decided to start calling on every client with existing contracts and offering credits for them to commit to more product. Between then and June, Vincent signed 14 upsells totaling $1.7 million.  

Then, there was a mid-size organization called Bill Process Management – or BPM – in St. Paul. They had always done a lot of business with the competitors with one segment of their business on Majestech’s platform but managed their business units in a siloed fashion. They had a unit who managed payment processes and auditing for healthcare, government, education and other industry verticals, and had always managed these divisions distinctly.

One day, they named a new CEO – Charles Royal – and Vincent saw opportunity the second he saw it on Sales Navigator. 

Vincent messaged him via LinkedIn. ‘Hi, I lead the BPM-CTMI partnership and would love to see where I may best support your initiatives with resources you are entitled to, all while giving you the lowdown on the Twin Cities.’ He was relocating from California to take this job.  

Vincent got a response and was in Charles’ office the following week, before any of the competition.

They hit it off straightaway. Charles was very candid, very straightforward. He told Vincent exactly what he did and didn’t like about his provider and vendor relationships in the past. He asked Vincent what he thought of his relationship up to this point with BPM, and he was honest in kind – that while he had enjoyed chats with his VP Shane Madden, they rarely went far because the business was being managed so differently. Vincent gently but directly questioned the siloed approach, considering surely they had data and insights that could be used across the enterprise. 

Charles decided to manage his entire business as one – bringing the business units together and putting Shane in charge of them. Vincent introduced a litany of internal and vendor resources that could help him realize his vision – the shop of John Deever, Matt Rockwell and Jeremy Rivers.

Charles could holistically manage BPM and bring everyone onto the same platform so they could share data where it made sense and glean insights on a much larger data set. It would also enable them to explore new industry verticals and business offerings.  

It took some doing, but because of Vincent’s relationship with Janet Leary, he was able to secure a healthy discount to close the deal with BPM in June.

Vincent finished the year at 100.1% to goal. And he was absolutely exhausted.

Unbeatable: The Legend of Vincent Scott – Chapter 17: Sabotage Season – The No-Win Scenario

Promotions and job moves most frequently happen because you are in the right place at the right time, have an important relationship with the hiring manager or someone with a lot of influence in the decision making process, and you have a reputation that de-risks the hiring manager’s decision and you become the overwhelmingly obvious choice. There is no silver bullet, and you can be exceptionally qualified and be runner-up. But these are the controllable ingredients that are most important as you navigate career.

In spring 2016, Vincent Scott was more than ready to make a move within Majestech-Ware Global.

While he had applied to many jobs to no avail (because his relatively new organization was not fully understood by those in corporate on the outside, and they had a different role leveling process), Vincent was facing the very real possibility that he would need to leave to find something commensurate with his growing skills.

A benefit of his role was the number of other Majestech sellers he not only encountered, but was able to conjure up deals for. Vincent sold into thousands of organizations over his 2+ years in the Regional Business Manager role, and the largest allocation of these organizations fell into the scale territory in Minnesota: small and mid-sized organizations that were covered by a colleague account executive named Melanie Farmington.

Melanie wanted to make a career move. Her existing manager, Sally Talisman, offered to speed up the move and transition if Melanie could find a backfill. She asked Vincent if he was interested. While Vincent did not know the extent of what he was signing up for, he needed a change and signed on to this territory manager role overseeing the Majestech relationships with 236 customers for the bulk of the southern half of Minnesota (including Minneapolis, St. Paul and even hometown Mankato). 

Before the dust even settled on the new role, Sally took another role and the VP Floyd Irving brought in a friend and confidante from the marketing team in Mexico to fill the Area Director role, managing Vincent and his dozen peers. Her name was Quintana Navarro. It was her first management role at age 42. She would report to GM John Deever. 

Vincent had been paying dues on his comeback trail for 6 years and this would be more of the same. At the same time, in the summer of 2016, Autumn revealed she was pregnant with their second child due March 2017. He needed job stability and was going to play the game the way he had learned to do. Open-minded, slow to speak and quick to collaborate, especially working for a rookie manager given his intimidating background.

There were numerous industry verticals represented in Vincent’s market and his specialist team would consist of sellers on specific products (they sold everything from hardware to productivity tools and niche offerings around artificial intelligence and data) and he managed all vendor activity in that patch. Deals went through him, incentives went through him, and he would often manage relationships with C-Suite within his territory. 

Vincent received 3 days of training from Melanie, which was a blessing but it barely scratched the surface of what to expect. Quintana had never done the job, so she spouted empty platitudes: “use the partner channel,” “fill the pipeline,” “fill the gaps.”

Once again, Vincent Scott was in the trenches, trying desperately to figure out a job where most were unsuccessful and playing the surviving game.

The customers hated Majestech. When Vincent called on them, they told him in most cases they already bought from Majestech and didn’t even know what they owned; that they never heard from Majestech unless they wanted their money or it was time to renew. Vincent’s market had not hit goal in 5 years. A predecessor in market had only hit goal because they audited as many customers as possible in order to force them to buy licensing, which certainly left a very sour taste in many mouths.

Vincent learned very quickly why Melanie wanted out of there so badly.

He also did not know where to go to most quickly stop the bleeding. What he knew how to do was prospect to executives, which he had been doing at the consultant firm pre-Majestech via LinkedIn, and he started doing this vigorously. Furthermore, having zero training on how his numbers counted and the weight of his payout buckets, he was flying blind: he relied on what he knew to do, which was create relationships, be responsive and communicative, build a community with newsletters and education, and keep things moving.

His mistake was chasing everything with equal gusto because he had no idea how to prioritize or quantify what he was chasing.

He did not lack for earning customer meetings, meeting with a full one-third of his customers in the first 2 months in role. It was unheard of. His partner manager, Jake Zuniga, was the only person who kept Vincent sane and was the litmus test that Vincent was having an impact. Jake was a 10-year Majestech veteran and was used to the revolving door of resources and territory managers. He knew the customers and had been one of the only constants. They became close.

Vincent’s mistake included trusting that the partners and vendors who managed customer relationships were doing their jobs or upselling, while he turned his attention to going out and signing net new logos.

He was very quickly working 60-80 hours a week during his first year of marriage with a kid on the way, sometimes triple- and quadruple-booked and always back-to-back every day.

Quintana was only focused on forecast and pipeline. It’s all she knew, and it’s all unpopular and brash Floyd Irving ever asked about. Vincent had been on a call with Floyd his very first week on the job and, as he knew very little about the territory yet, Floyd belittled and insulted Vincent, oblivious and uncaring to the fact he had just begun.

Quintana urged the team to commit more deals to close during certain times of the quarter and fiscal year to make her forecast look better. She would also question why deals in the territory were committed at all when there was not an exact date for signature – saying they had to have timeline, budget and power. She would hammer on Vincent was he was doing to drive more pipeline. He would outline the numerous activities he was engaging in and all of the opportunities coming out of them, via LinkedIn prospecting, direct outreach to CRM leads that nobody else was doing and self-crafted newsletters, and she said, ‘no, the vendor engine needs to be doing everything for you.’

It was confounding. She had no idea what she was doing, and it showed, but this certainly was not going to help Vincent improve his standing in her eyes or in his performance.

Quintana would speak to vendors and it was evident they were just as confused by her diatribe. She’d go off on some tangent about what she viewed the company story was to an organization who had built their entire business on Majestech’s ecosystem. They would give Vincent looks during the meetings while she was preaching to them; it was uncomfortable. But Vincent had to humor it all and put on the show of being completely on board, even though he had no idea what he was following.

Jake Zuniga would always say, “Whatever it is around this place, good or bad, won’t last; so, don’t get too comfortable or too upset about anything.” It was stellar advice. 

Vincent took solace in the fact many customers were ecstatic to hear from someone from Majestech for the first time, and he took the approach of using verbiage to get meetings that included ensuring they were aware of resources they were entitled to as a result of their existing investments. He wanted to prove his worth first and bring value to earn the relationship.

He also had to learn the only way he could: by doing and by soaking up everything his far more technical counterparts said like a sponge.

He would be on highly technical calls listening to specialists rattle off stuff about code and infrastructure specifications and had no idea what they were talking about. His approach? He typed 104 words per minute and wrote down practically everything they said. He didn’t understand it, but his recap e-mails impressed people with their thoroughness. Six months in, the words started making sense. And he could regurgitate his notes on subsequent calls and project confidence. He was faking it until he made it.

Resourcefulness, scrappiness and originality appealed to Vincent; in an early regional leadership meeting, the team was briefed on several tools at their disposal. One of the reports showed any customer – sometimes company names, sometimes just a person’s name or e-mail address – who had exhibited any usage at all of Majestech solutions. It could have been the most basic of trials, it could have been a free demo. It showed Vincent potential prospects for net new logos: if he could go out and sign a deal with these warmer leads, it boosted his portfolio and profile.

With the report, Vincent was like a detective using whatever information he had to go on and took it to social media. Thanks mostly to LinkedIn, he found the company and sent very personalized connection requests to as many pertinent people at each organization he could find. For one in particular – a gym management software start-up named FitSmart – he targeted 30 senior and IT leaders of their 100+ employees. 11 accepted his connection request and 1 responded to his follow-up note days later. 

He took the approach that they were investing in Majestech services and he wanted to introduce resources and support they were entitled to in an attempt to optimize the investment and outcomes.

It was a probability game. Vincent knew that if he reached out to the right number of customer contacts with the best possible message consistently, he couldn’t fail.

The first responder from FitSmart pointed Vincent to someone else at the company – Shane Bright – to whom Vincent’s team had actually sold hardware while he was in his previous role! They had sold to 8,000 unique customers during his 8 quarters in role, so Vincent came across many similar folks in the time to come. 

Vincent’s only shortcoming was assuming that because they were only trialing Majestech’s service for $2000 per month that they would sign a small deal. He brought a vendor out there to support, and it turned out FitSmart was only trialing the service to see if it was ready for prime time to which to move their entire platform.

They were weighing Majestech against 3 other vendors. They were looking to do predictive analytics based on predicting churn – of their members and of their client’s gyms. It was a fantastic use case.

There were several layers of potential partnership there and in the end, Majestech optimized their website, their financial reporting, their data platform and set up machine learning tools. It was the biggest net new deal in the small and midsized business organization that year. And it introduced a whole new offering FitSmart was able to offer to potential new clubs that inherently utilized the Majestech platform.  

Nobody else was translating these reports into new social connections and then into deals.

Vincent Scott did it 11 times that year alone – found folks via social platforms based on obscure reports he had stumbled upon and instead of focusing on 1 or 2 people in their organizations who could easily ignore him, he would engage 30 to 50. He got the reports, refreshed them frequently, cast a really wide net, developed relationships in new organizations and got deals done. Rinse and repeat.

He templatized his LinkedIn intro message, would set up a Sales Navigator account search for his targets, and just go down the list: engaging the maximum 100 connection request targets per week every week, over and over.

He started being asked to train and show this approach to others, and happily obliged. Vincent’s star was on the rise again.

Yet he was being crushed under the cumbersome processes and Quintana’s incompetence.

He had to spend so much time chasing every single deal he could; much more time than perhaps he should have on deals that were relatively small potatoes like $75K, $100K. It took such an act of congress sometimes to get just about any deal done based on the rigmarole Vincent and his small team would have to go through like getting pricing, applying incentives, drafting the agreement, any amendments, and getting various people along the way to do their job in a timely fashion.  

And Vincent ran into a ton of landmines. Because he had never been trained, he made a lot of rookie mistakes and had no idea how to forecast international licensing or double-check for customers’ legal processes, etc. and rather than any coaching or guidance from Quintana, he merely received her regular tongue-lashings and condescension.

Vincent signed more new logos than anyone else in the company by far and his boss hated him. She talked down to him like he was a problem.

Because the territory hadn’t hit goal in 5 years, there was a massive forecast gap that Vincent was absolutely, furiously whittling away at. Quintana’s response?  Daily 7:30 AM conference calls with him to dive into his $2.1 million forecasted gap.

It was during this time Vincent developed some good relationships with some services vendors in Minneapolis. One of them was Accord Business Group; he had met their Senior Partner a few years prior via LinkedIn and almost left his last Regional Business Manager role to go work for them. Vincent had declined the job after much debate, but as he hated disappointing people, he handed them Nick Aragon.

Vincent and Nick had worked together at Tel-Cell, though they did not really know each other well. He also came on board at Majestech-Ware as a business manager while Vincent was Regional Business Manager where they got to know each other better. He should have been tapped to replace Vincent when he changed roles, but didn’t because of politics, was salty, and had a free agent mentality. So Vincent got him the interview and endorsed him at ABG and he got the job.

The other vendor trying to make a name for themselves in the Twin Cities was Merit Productivity. Nick replaced Mick Logan at Accord when he left to go work for Merit. They were bigger in Wisconsin up to that point and were growing, so they sold Mick on ‘opening the market’ in the Twin Cities. They offered him more money. It was a no-brainer. 

Vincent got pretty close during this time with Nick and Mick. Nick was looking for meetings and leads, and Vincent’s prospecting ability opened a ton of doors. They came in under the banner of complimentary training and workshops and got every meeting they wanted. Mick, on the other hand, was one of the most diligent networkers Vincent had met. He was looking to partner with Vincent wherever he could.

Vincent started to re-think his trajectory. Talking with Nick Aragon, he thought again about leaving Majestech for Accord.

His days were misery. They began with the mandatory 7:30 AM calls with Quintana, and she would message him throughout the day no matter what he was doing expecting immediate responses about individual deals. ‘Where is this deal?’ ‘Do you have a formal close plan for this deal – where is it?’ Vincent was driving new relationships and forming partnerships and she was stopping him dead in his tracks every hour with some kind of minutiae and administrative demand. 

Vincent was driving an unheard of magnitude of new deals, making it impossible amidst 236 customers to have an elaborate, extremely detailed and milestone-laden full presentation for every single one of them all by himself. He understood the necessity of accurate pipeline and forecast, specifically when you’re accountable to shareholders. But he couldn’t get any momentum because she was killing it by questioning everything.

Vincent was over 100% to goal fiscal year-to-date, unlike the majority of his peers. With no training or really much comprehension of what he was doing. 

But Quintana was actually quite counterproductive on deals. A customer move their headquarters to St. Paul earlier in 2016 – a holding company called OV Group. They were mis-aligned geographically and when the change was made, they were pushed down a notch into the SMB patch even though they were 10,000 employees. They were supposed to be in Vincent’s patch, so he engaged and led the deal.

He put it on Quintana’s radar immediately to remedy the situation because they belonged in his territory and everyone agreed on that fact. She committed to getting it fixed.

A couple of months later as the deal neared closure, she said she was not going to agree to approve or help get approved OV Group coming to Vincent’s patch. She claimed she had an issue with another account of that size coming into Vincent’s patch while he had such a massive gap in pipeline because it would result in them taking on more quota.    

Vincent had to drop everything to again cover for Quintana’s ignorance and incompetence to write up a full business case justification showing how he would net an additional $2 million in revenue on top of the quota they were taking.

The deal closed. Quintana did nothing with it. That one deal alone would have put Vincent above quota for the year. He did the deal. Somebody else won President’s Club and a $20,000 bonus for a deal they had nothing to do with that year because of Quintana’s gross negligence. Quintana still attached her name to the deal and got paid on it by Floyd Irving.

Quintana challenged Vincent on the forecasting of a deal with one of their global organizations. A lot of their licensing fell overseas, and no one ever thought to tell Vincent how the revenue counted for them when they signed deals including overseas revenue.  So, of course, when the deal hit the revenue was off. Not by a lot – relatively – on the $5 million deal. Off by a couple hundred grand.

Quintana accused Vincent over and over of making a mistake forecasting and that he had a serious forecasting problem in general, which was way off base.  She was trying to find any angle by which she could eliminate him.

Vincent had learned long ago to just keep his mouth shut when he vehemently disagreed with incompetent bosses, but he couldn’t keep quiet this time. He called her on it to her face in the Minneapolis office, asking her point blank why she nor anyone else had ever shared this information or trained him on it. Turns out, she didn’t even know how foreign licensing paid out. And as a result of that situation, she documented a meeting with Vincent where she ‘covered the expected basic competencies’ of his job with him and made him sign his job description. It was insulting and degrading.

Between that, the OV Group deal she screwed Vincent out of, the daily 7:30 calls… he was frozen with anger. Petrified. And the old Vincent – the ABM Vincent – wouldn’t have stood for it. He would have gone toe to toe. He would have undermined her, taken it up over her head and shouted her incompetence from the rooftops. He would have gone to HR, led a coup of other dissatisfied workers against her. And probably gotten fired.

This Vincent was 38 years old, just bought a new house and had a second kid on the way.

He was trapped. The money and benefits were good. He had to find a way.

Vincent succumbed to dropping his stance on ultra-conservative forecasting, and created opportunities in his pipeline with just about every customer who had indicated any interest in anything – like most folks – marking them as upside deals, and closing the gap to try to get Quintana off his back.

But then it was always something else. Every day was absolutely brutal.

Vincent even pointed out to Quintana how committed he was to Majestech because he had gotten opportunities floated to him to work with partners for higher base salary and turned them down; Quintana actually asked him why wouldn’t he leave to go work for a vendor. She did not hide her dislike of Vincent or desire to have him leave. 

In another glaring insult, Vincent’s first employer Cooke’s Grocery Store was a customer. Long before Vincent arrived in this role, they had started going down a path with a competitor. However, because they signed the deal with the competitor while they were managed by Vincent, Quintana pinned the loss to him. He was the scapegoat in her calls with upper management.

Vincent was actually supposed to have a meeting with Cooke’s executives to try to hammer out a retention deal in the final days before they inked the deal with the competitor. While he was driving to the meeting, Quintana called Vincent to tell him he wasn’t going to the meeting; she was bringing in one of his peers from Wisconsin to handle the meeting instead of him.

Rather than trying to help or support or even doing anything at all to make the situation better, she just sent in a peer blindly. No explanation. No communication. No teaching moment. Any good manager would have gone to the meeting with Vincent given the circumstances. She didn’t even get involved or participate in any way to help him – she just replaced him with someone who had been in the job longer. They lost the business anyway and he got the blame.

Vincent expressed to her on the phone that he was surprised to learn he wasn’t going to the meeting and wished he had known. Quintana said coldly, “I’m telling you now,” and then changed the subject back to ‘gap’ in other areas that would have been eradicated had she kept her word and done her job to ensure OV Group counted in his tallies.

Once, she blasted Vincent when an executive briefing his extended team set up didn’t have breakfast or lunch booked, when he had nothing to do with that process and the receptionist had dropped the ball after he submitted what was needed. He was ripped because he did not report that Cooke’s had a competitive threat early enough, when he reported it the day he found out. Not forecasting enough. Forecasting too much.

Unfortunately, Quintana’s manager John Deever – who worked directly for Floyd Irving – left during this time to start his own consulting partner with his counterpart in the enterprise space, Matt Rockwell. His replacement was a gentleman named Jordan Waters, who brought great energy and enthusiasm and a strong reputation; he had won Majestech manager of the year one year prior.

But Quintana did nothing to paint a picture of optimism to Jordan about Vincent Scott.

It was clear: likely because he was a published sales leadership guru who was doing it differently than most, she was obsessed with destroying him. Rather than praised for deals like FitSmart and 10 others that came out of thin air with social selling, Vincent was raked over the coals. It made Accord Business Group look better and better; they were angling to offer him in October 2016, then November, then it sounded like closer to the first of the year.

But the closer it got to March 2017, the more it made sense for Vincent to stay for his paid paternity leave with Autumn and their growing family.

Vincent liked his team. There was Lucy Burke, the Wisconsin counterpart who had been brought in for the Cooke’s meeting. She was outspoken, helpful and fun. Charlotte Baines and Stu Sanders were helpful and collaborative. They covered Iowa and North Dakota, respectively. They were able to collectively vent about the frustrations of the role and what it would become, as well as the antics of Quintana. They all agreed that Vincent was her least favorite human.

It continued; Quintana would tell Vincent he wasn’t open enough with his territory and business, even though he invited her to client and partner meetings on a daily basis and she had full visibility to his schedule, but did not attend. She lived in Minneapolis, and literally only went to 1 meeting with Vincent – where she praised his delivery of the value story.

She told Vincent he would not take coaching, but when he asked what she meant, the only example she would provide was the overseas licensing issue she was just as culpable in.

Jake Zuniga was the best capable of talking Vincent down when he became so frustrated that he wanted to bail. People called him “Z.” Z would take Vincent for drinks or pizza at the bar down the street from their office and give him perspective. Having been there a decade and seeing the changes and revolving door of managers and direction had given him a good vantage point. It was helpful. It was just what Vincent needed to hear. 

Z was accountable for the full territory that Quintana oversaw from a vendor perspective. It was his responsibility to work with the territory managers to ensure the funding and vendor programs were leveraged – that they had folks internally and with vendors working with customers to scope, proof out and execute on the solution.  

He was also a dad, 8 years older than Vincent, with 4 kids. They talked every day. He was very well known in the industry and community. And as “luck” would have it, he had also just gotten a new manager named Kandace Newman who was trying to run him out of the business just like Quintana was doing to Vincent. These two aging salesman called themselves “Sad Men,” a play on Mad Men.

Z told Vincent he was doing great and that he was the hardest working guy he’d ever met.

That he had his act together better in 9 months than people who had been doing it for years.

Z had worked with 5 of Vincent’s predecessors in market and dozens of folks regionally who had done that role. Id didn’t make the daily beatings from Quintana much easier to endure, but it got Vincent to just hold on.

In December, three months before the due date of kiddo #2, Autumn Scott went on bedrest and was unable to work. It could have been much worse and overall she was OK and the baby was OK, but it was just more grind on Vincent Scott. The ABG offer was nowhere to be found and time kept on slipping into 2017 which was guaranteed to be an interesting year.

Quintana continued her antics! Vincent started working another deal based on a merger that transpired with a company in Illinois. The Illinois team got a whiff of what was brewing and started trying to claim they were going to sell it under that company’s umbrella. Of course, the customer just wanted the best deal, which would have been under the larger organization that Vincent managed. He raised it to Quintana to help settle any dispute before it happened. She assured Vincent that she would ensure it fell in his patch and the customer got what they needed. A week later, after Vincent had already gotten the incentives approved and was near signature, the deal went to Chicago – per Quintana. She told Vincent it was not up for debate.

A new program started about that time. ‘Data Days.’ The territory managers were supposed to prospect and tee up conversations for their technical specialists, whereby they would introduce them and drive pipeline for the team – it was a mandate from above. Vincent personally drove the most of these engagements in the entire company by far and after listening to the technical specialist on a couple of calls started leading them by himself. No other territory manager was doing this.

His tech lead was amazed. Quintana could not have cared less.

Vincent offered to share best practices of how he was driving these conversations and this pipeline best in the company, and she never replied.

Quintana also became very preoccupied with Vincent creating an extremely elaborate paternity leave plan, assigning tasks and milestones for every weekly call and every deal to other members of the team – including her. They would have a call every week until March to gauge his progress of this paternity leave plan. 

There was an evening leaving the office when her car wouldn’t start on a really bad winter snow day. Vincent stayed with her until her husband could arrive to pick her up. She seemed very thankful because she was scared; being from Mexico, she had never been in a snowstorm like that much less seen much snow. He hoped it would be some sort of turning point.

Of all the encounters Vincent had with Quintana, he tried to take forward something positive and there was this: One day she looked at his calendar with him and challenged him to look at every meeting in a given day and ask himself if it really was prioritized properly; if it was something that had to transpire today, or was he allowing a meeting that could wait to take precedent over something more important.

She was right.

Vincent had to get better at moving the pro bono work or the philosophical conversations with vendors who weren’t actually doing anything in his territory down or potentially out. He had to prioritize ruthlessly on size of opportunity and what would most move the needle. He now had a much better ability to look at the sum of the parts and realize which customers and partners were worth his time and which were just looking for a handout.

Given enough time in role, he could eventually look back and realize – based on track record – which vendors were worth his time and which were just looking for a handout. 

Better schedule scrutiny would be key. Vincent was up at 3:30 or 4 every morning to work out, working 12 hours, and being a husband and dad. He was stretched very thin.

It was hard enough to manage forecasting, corral the deals that were out there, conduct vendor discussions, prospect, deal with the ‘scored marketing leads’ that were a pile of crap, file numerous administrative reports per week, stay on top of all of the support issues, respond to a dozen redundant messages from Quintana throughout the day, manually write up hours of additional reporting when they had automated tools that were supposed to do it for them and construct a robust manual paternity leave plan.

Melanie actually gave him some good advice when they caught up one day: if he didn’t answer a non-critical question, they would get the answer somewhere else. And he found this to be true. He didn’t have to constantly monitor his e-mail and instant messages – unless of course they were from Quintana.

There was so much politics. Lots of customers and partners looked at Majestech like an evil empire. Because Vincent oversaw the territory, a lot of folks kept him at arm’s length to further their own agendas. Partners would try to do their own thing to benefit only themselves, cutting Vincent out of it. Of course, the second he would introduce a strategy or a vendor for anything with a customer, then everyone’s up in arms that Vincent is encroaching on their relationship. They couldn’t bring him in, but they also wouldn’t stand for him disrupting their secret relationships.

The partners that would never respond when you tried to get feedback or work together sure got in a tizzy the second you talked to ‘their’ customer or introduced any other vendor or way of thinking. 

Vincent had to get used to being the bad guy. IT and procurement beat him up for going above and around them. Partners would beat him up for trying to do anything that would upset their gravy train. It takes its toll, always being vilified.

Back-to-back one day, Vincent logged into a call a few minutes late once and the partner was talking bad about him thinking he wasn’t there. They were saying they went to Vincent for support and a discount and he turned them down. He patiently listened, then had to correct him when they were finished as all he had actually done was send back some clarifying questions so he could sell the discount internally. He didn’t just blindly take their request and try to take it to Quintana with zero ammunition. He did his job; how dare he?

But there is a strength in learning and understanding that someone is only out for themselves. It empowers you to turn every conversation with them into one where you are making some sort of a deal – you’re positioning something that helps them as a milestone on the way to you getting what you want. If you can overtly frame every scenario for which you want their buy-in with how they win, you can get what you want every time.

Many people just try to recommend to customers and partners or specialists a certain course of action and throw in a couple of reasons why. But if the reasons are not personal to your audience, there is little chance they’ll walk with you where you want to take them. But if you focus on making it about them – whatever it is – they will very willingly come along for the ride.

On Thursday, March 16, 2017 at 8:45 AM, Vincent was readying to leave for the office so he could finish trainings and take calls. Autumn was due to give birth in 2 days. Vincent was slated to have lunch with Z.

And then Autumn shouted down the laundry chute, “Babe! BABE!” and her tone caught him off guard. She was excited. Her water broke. Vincent went into laser-focused Daddy mode.

They grabbed their bags, went out the door and picked up Elizabeth from school before going to the hospital. Their parents got there. It was slow going flor a while but in the last couple of hours things moved more quickly.

Sydney Scott arrived at 8:15 PM. 6 pounds, 14 oz., 20 inches.

Majestech had a generous paternity leave of 3 months, a far cry from when Keith Dickhauser asked Vincent in 2007, “You’re not going to take any time off, are you?” when Elizabeth Scott was born.

Vincent could have stayed off until nearly July, meaning he would have missed the final quarter of the fiscal year, however he came back in only 6 weeks to finalize the last 11 deals of the year.

Vincent was more than a little surprised to find that Quintana had charged him with creating a complex paternity leave plan and no one save Jake Zuniga did anything on it while he was gone – Quintana included. She was supposed to conduct weekly calls for his territory during his absence and did none of them. There were numerous actions the extended specialist team was supposed to complete – most of them were left undone and Quintana had done absolutely nothing to tend to these ‘critical’ items.  

Quintana had also not had Vincent’s back when a customer complained during his absence and said she thought she could get contract terms that didn’t exist. The customer was so desperate she lied and claimed Vincent had told her she could, knowing he wasn’t there to defend himself. Rather than have his back or even give Vincent the benefit of the doubt, Quintana said to the customer on a call that she would fully investigate his actions. She mentioned to the customer it would be a code of conduct violation. Thankfully, Vincent’s team stepped in and informed her that he had done nothing wrong. The vendor talked the customer down. It fizzled out. But her attempts to get rid of Vincent knew no bounds. 

In the final nail in Vincent’s coffin, Quintana signed away his largest consuming customer while he was gone, even though he had been successfully fighting the battle to keep them in his territory all year. She had no qualms about reaching out to Vincent while he was on leave asking about ‘potential code of conduct issues’ rooted in the customer’s lie about contract terms, but she sure didn’t let him know she got rid of his top customer without saying a word to him.  

This was a customer who was a partner, who did 12% of their business with the government. The government team wanted the sales credit and consumption, so they had made several failed overtures over the years to take them. All it took was Quintana denying the request. She didn’t. Quintana handed them over – probably gleefully. It plunged Vincent farther down the ranks, because he lost absolutely all of their year-to-date revenue. 

Vincent was 97% to goal year-to-date when he came back May 1; only missing goal currently because Quintana had failed to fix the OV Group issue. Vincent still needed to find another $2M in annual revenue to plug the gap and he was up against time. The deals he closed eradicated some of that gap, but the time lost halted momentum in other areas and no bluebirds came out of the sky.  

Piper Airport had such a discombobulated procurement process and the people Vincent was working with contradicted each other constantly. So much waffling on that deal and Vincent diligently finally got it done but for a fraction of what he was led to believe it would be from the partner. Of course, that puts egg on Vincent’s face.  

Then there was Anson Marketing – the one that badmouthed him in his absence to try to strong-arm Majestech into dropping their margins on the deal. Vincent wound up going over that nasty CIO’s head to the CEO and CFO and got the deal done; of course, they were going to use the product for another of Majestech’s major clients and that client’s account team lobbied to take the deal. Every deal had a long and arduous story. So, there was yet another deal that transpired for a fraction of what it should have been. Another hit. 

A hotshot partner of the moment promised Vincent a $1M deal at the beginning of the year; they did their work, got paid and vanished, and Vincent and Z had to chase them relentlessly until they finally signed on the last day of the year for $75,000.

Vincent was also approached upon his return about a couple of internal job opportunities – once in the Large Business Group and another in the hardware group. This was wonderful – a way out of the harrowing regime of Quintana Navarro.

After a couple of interviews for the Device Manager role, Vincent felt good. The hiring manager loved their conversations. It was general consensus that Vincent was a shoo-in. Then she spoke with Quintana and Vincent never heard from her again.  

The Large Business Group Director, Renee Wilkins, was interested in Vincent’s candidacy for a role on her team but indicated she had to wait to do anything until July when she’d know the new direction of the business. Things always had a tendency of changing at the onset of a new fiscal year. That was fair enough. She wanted to stay in touch and keep the dialogue warm.  

Vincent did everything he could to finish strong. It wasn’t even a full year in role, and while he was #2 on Quintana’s team prior to going on paternity leave even without OV Group, he dipped to #4 and 93% to goal for the fiscal year after the government team was allowed to take his top customer. He had 14% year-over-year growth for the territory – 2nd best on Quintana’s team.

Vincent was proud of the turnaround of the market since the territory hit 85% the year prior. It was, however, the first time in Vincent’s 16 years in sales that he missed a goal.

After three excellent quarterly appraisals throughout the year, Vincent was expecting a solid raise, bonus and stock allocation. The only thing separating Vincent from his last perfect quarterly appraisal and this moment was Vincent taking a truncated paternity leave to come back early to have the best year the territory had had in 5 years.

Instead, he got zero bonus, no stock rewards, and Quintana marked his appraisal with “insufficient results.”

It was the kiss of death.

Majestech employees solicit feedback from peers via a link they elect to send from their profile. They select who it goes to, but they don’t see the feedback. Vincent had sent the link to a handful of colleagues and teammates he worked with often and knew for a fact gave him rave reviews because they sent him copies. And Quintana not only did not include any of those rave reviews, but she went out and proactively solicited for negative feedback she could include.

She found someone to comment on one time she claimed he did not follow up on an e-mail, when it was a vendor’s responsibility – not his. She included that situation where someone dropped the ball ordering meals for an event and because it was Vincent’s customer, she blamed him.

At the urging of others, who told Vincent he absolutely had to go to HR and fight this egregious harassment and abuse, Vincent finally wrote a several page response to his appraisal that she legally had to include with it, calling out all of the discrepancies and his direct response to each false statement she made.

Vincent was weary; literally having spent 3 years of his life in a lawsuit with the Goliath of ABM, laid off at Cellular Horizons and run into the ground by Tel-Cell, he was now being unfairly targeted and dismantled by a pathetic excuse for a manager at Majestech.

Quintana also cited in Vincent’s appraisal that he needed serious work on his company value story, pitch and data transformation story when meeting with customers. Of course, she had seen him with a customer just once in their year together while living in Minneapolis and shunning numerous requests to join him in customer meetings, and after the one meeting she did go to, she praised him for all of those things. She had no shame.  

The perception Quintana had created of Vincent Scott was out there: he was not a fit for his role.

He knew HR wouldn’t do anything.

In the end, he wasted hours upon hours having to recount every story of unfair treatment. They forced him to live and die by just one reason Quintana targeted him that fell under an HR violation. There were several, but he had to pick one.

HR did literally nothing – claiming the one Vincent chose was not the reason she targeted him and picked one of the litany of examples he gave them of her harassment that didn’t fit that one bucket. Of course, it wasn’t the only one; they cited one reason why that category didn’t fit everything he gave them, and dropped it. It left Vincent very disenfranchised with a black mark on his record and one foot out the door. 

At the beginning of that process, Vincent actually had to meet with Quintana to cover his concerns with his appraisal.

She refused to let him speak from his notes because she wouldn’t let him open his laptop.

She would not let Vincent finish a sentence – she interrupted him over and over again.

She only gave him 30 minutes and showed up 5 minutes late after he had prepped for hours just for this conversation. 

Quintana told Vincent point blank he was wasting his time building a case. The conversation went nowhere. Vincent had to submit the escalation to HR. And HR took months to ultimately do absolutely nothing. 

Vincent got a new boss starting in July – Jeremy Rivers. He was an up-and-comer. He had been a seller, territory manager and was now a Director. Everybody loved him and spoke highly of him. Super charismatic, knowledgeable – a guy who controlled the room. He was a star.

He inherited Vincent Scott thinking he was his problem child; a waste of space who should be ushered out the door.

The other internal jobs disappeared. Majestech took Renee’s Large Business Group team and broke it up into industry verticals and that job vanished. The Hardware Specialist role was realigned to another market.

Vincent could stay the course branded a loser or put his tail between his legs and leave for a relatively small vendor. 

The Last Competitive Advantage: Becoming a Better Human in the Age of AI

In a world obsessed with speed, scale, and smart machines, we are faced with a question that will define this era:

What does it mean to be human when artificial intelligence outperforms us in almost everything—except empathy?

That was the soul of a recent conversation I had with my friend and leadership expert Richard Vickers. What began as a discussion about emotional intelligence quickly became something more urgent, more universal, and frankly, more human.

We are at a crossroads: AI is not coming—it’s here. It’s faster than us. More accurate. More efficient. It can draft emails, crunch data, create strategy decks, and even diagnose disease better than most people.

But it can’t care.

And that’s the point.

The Pendulum Has Swung Too Far

For the last few years, the pendulum has swung hard toward automation, acceleration, and efficiency. We’ve praised productivity tools and digital transformations—and rightly so. Technology has empowered us to do more in less time.

But in our race to go faster, have we lost the art of slowing down?

Have we stopped asking better questions, listening deeply, or being present with the people right in front of us?

We’ve been so busy perfecting performance that we’ve neglected the foundation of leadership, trust, and influence: emotional connection.

Emotional Intelligence: The Last Great Differentiator

Richard said something that struck me deeply: “AI will always outperform us on the left side of the brain. But the right side—that’s still our domain.”

The left brain powers logic. The right brain powers empathy, intuition, and creativity.

And make no mistake: the future will belong to those who invest in both.

We’re seeing AI outperform medical professionals in diagnosis. But it cannot comfort a scared patient. It cannot earn trust through presence, patience, or vulnerability. It cannot hold space for someone navigating heartbreak, fear, or failure.

We can.

But only if we choose to.

The Rise of the Conversational Narcissist

Somewhere along the way, we stopped listening. Not just hearing—but truly listening.

We’ve become what Richard calls “conversational narcissists.” Someone says, “I just got laid off,” and we respond with, “Let me tell you what happened when I got laid off…”

We think we’re being helpful. But we’ve just stolen their moment to be seen, heard, and validated.

Instead, we should be asking:

“How are you feeling right now?”

“What do you need from me?”

“How can I support you in this moment?”

Sometimes, the greatest gift we can give another person is not advice, but presence.

Let’s Stop Calling Them Soft Skills

Empathy. Listening. Compassion. Curiosity. Vulnerability.

We’ve long mislabeled these as “soft skills,” when in fact, they’re essential skills. They’re the human differentiators in an age where AI can mimic almost everything else.

The future will not belong to the most efficient. It will belong to the most emotionally intelligent.

As Richard put it: “There is no magic wand to become a better human. But there is daily practice. And questions. And trusted mirrors that show us who we are becoming.”

What Will You Do With Your Time?

AI is giving us the gift of time. Tasks that took hours now take minutes.

So the question becomes: What will you do with the time AI gives back to you?

Will you spend it sending more emails? Attending more meetings?

Or will you reinvest it in the moments that matter?

Writing that thank-you note.

Checking in on a teammate.

Mentoring someone who’s struggling.

Pausing to ask: “How are you really?”

Because AI can’t do that. And it never will.

The Power of Recognition

I recently took mountains of data and fed it into an AI engine. Sales metrics, dashboards, spreadsheets.

And I asked it one thing: “Help me find where my people are winning so I can celebrate them.”

The result? A one-hour meeting filled with nothing but praise, gratitude, and recognition.

People lit up. They remembered it. And they deserved it.

AI helped me uncover what mattered. But it was my humanity that brought it to life.

Plant Your Flag

In 2025 and beyond, leadership isn’t about being the smartest person in the room.

It’s about being the most curious. The most present. The most human.

So plant your flag.

Declare that you will show up better. As a leader. As a listener. As a dad. As a friend. As a manager. As a human.

Because the real flex isn’t being the fastest at automation.

It’s being the first one to look someone in the eye and say:

“I’m here. I see you. I’ve got you.”

In a world full of artificial intelligence, be real. Be human. Be unforgettable.

That’s the last competitive advantage. That’s the future of leadership. And that’s how we win.

If this moved you, share it. Tag someone who inspires you to be a better human. Then ask them a better question.

#Leadership #EmotionalIntelligence #AIandHumanity #FutureOfWork #HumanConnection #LeadWithEmpathy #BetterHumans #SoftSkillsMatter #AuthenticLeadership

Listen & Share Courageously: Unlock Magnetic Team Connection | Connected Teamwork Podcast #68

Most leaders think their job is to talk, solve, or convince. But the leaders who transform teams? They ask one question: “Tell me more.” Listening isn’t a soft skill — it’s a superpower.

And the more I lead, the more I realize:

The smartest person in the room isn’t the loudest.

The best leaders don’t always speak first.

And conflict doesn’t have to divide—it can actually unite.

In this week’s episode of the Connected Teamwork Podcast, Hylke Faber and I explored what might be the most important leadership muscle of all: the courage to listen and share openly.

Full episode here if you want to dive in: https://www.youtube.com/live/NE2zlzoV3ds?si=zvjZTFUxBgYoQOe-

A great quote from Hylke: “Conflict isn’t opposition. It’s confluence—two strong currents coming together to create something new.”

That changes everything.

It means we stop seeing disagreement as threat—and start seeing it as potential.

Here’s what I’ve learned the hard way, in leadership, in marriage, in parenting, and in boardrooms:

You don’t always need to fix it.

You don’t need to have all the answers.

You don’t need to win the room.

You need to sit in the storm, ask “Tell me more,” and mean it.

When I stopped trying to solve every problem—and just started listening—I built more trust, uncovered hidden team brilliance, and made people feel seen. That’s the job. That’s leadership.

In your next team meeting, say less. Listen more.

Ask “What would you do if you were in my role?”

Then repeat what you heard. Let them know they’re not alone.

That moment may do more to build connection and culture than any strategy deck ever could.

One more from the show:

“When I listen well, I lead better. Period.”

If that resonates—ask yourself:

What conversation this week needs your presence, not your pitch?

Where can you trade control for curiosity?

I’m still learning. Still evolving. Still quieting my ego in service of showing up better.

Full episode here if you want to dive in: https://www.youtube.com/live/NE2zlzoV3ds?si=zvjZTFUxBgYoQOe-

#ConnectedTeamwork #Leadership #Listening #EmotionalIntelligence #CarsonHeady #SalesLeadership #TeamCulture #GrowthMindset #LeadWithHeart #MagneticListening #ConflictToConfluence

Unbeatable: The Legend of Vincent Scott – Chapter 15: Burnout, Betrayal & Beginning Again

Vincent Scott had been here before.

In February 2012, just 1 year after starting his Cellular Horizons journey with Brink Management, Vincent faced unemployment again.

Still amidst a legal war against his former employer, enduring public humiliation, personal setbacks, and the excruciating climb back into sales only to see it go kaput, Vincent would have to make another move out of necessity. It wasn’t glamorous.

But like so many times before, his way of doing things didn’t sit well with the old guard.

Vincent’s refusal to toe the corporate line—to play the blame game or fire his people just to appease some invisible scoreboard—put a target on his back. When the company was bought out by a larger national wireless dealer, Vincent wasn’t chosen for the transition.

He wasn’t surprised. The company didn’t need excellence. It needed compliance.

His job, like many others, vanished with the acquisition. There was no announcement. No farewell. Just silence. A slow fade to black. They hired someone to take his place and paid him one-third the investment.

It was in that uncertain limbo—jobless once more, but wiser—when a familiar name resurfaced: Saul Portman.

Saul had just landed with Tel-Cell Wireless, a scrappy, fast-growing carrier that was aggressively expanding. He told Vincent they were looking for someone to take over one of their worst-performing districts. The job paid more than Cellular Horizons ever had. The opportunity was real.

So, Vincent swallowed his pride and took the interview at Tel-Cell. He didn’t sugarcoat anything. He laid out the war stories. The wins. The wounds. The interviewer—a smug VP with something to prove—ripped into him, challenged his credibility, and questioned every move he had made.

Vincent thought he bombed.

He got the job.

From the outside, it looked like a fresh start. From the inside, it was a firestorm waiting to ignite. The Minneapolis market was in disrepair. Stores were chronically understaffed. Turnover was constant. Employees were jaded. The entire market had been run into the ground.

Vincent didn’t flinch.

He knew this play.

This was his play.

And as he stepped into that disaster, shoulder to shoulder with a team that had been all but abandoned, he felt something he hadn’t felt in a long time—purpose. Another opportunity to dig deep and engage people and fix or create processes to lift a team to greatness.

He promoted the “unpromotable”, empowered the underestimated, and watched them become top performers. In his early store visits, he found the diamonds in the rough who had toiled in these stores for years and were underutilized; Vincent earned and gained their trust and empowered them to win.

From the moment he arrived, Vincent knew the Minneapolis market was in shambles. The stores were ghost towns, the teams broken and demoralized after years of mismanagement. District Managers had come and gone like seasons, each promising salvation but delivering more confusion. Vincent, however, was different. Within two months, he had transformed the second-worst district in the country into the number one market in the nation.

He did it the only way he knew how—by showing up.

He rolled up his sleeves, met with every rep and manager, listened, observed, and rebuilt.

He held all-day interviews, sometimes thirty in a single day, just to get staffed, making the decision to have them sign up for all locations for which they wanted to be considered, which eliminated labor shortages in locations.

He stepped in to cover shifts, trained side-by-side with rookies, and created a culture of excellence. And the results followed. Sales soared. Morale skyrocketed. Other regions began adopting his hiring, training, and marketing strategies. Tel-Cell had never seen anything like him.

But success came with a target.

Vincent’s immediate supervisor was nonexistent—friendly, perhaps, but ineffective. His coaching amounted to, “Turn the music up in the stores.” To be fair, though, he did give Vincent two pieces of advice that while they rolled off his lackadaisical tongue, resonated with Vincent for years to come: “Control the controllables,” and “Win the crowd.”

Vincent made the conscious decision to obsessively control everything he could and dismiss everything else. Furthermore, the line from Gladiator served to boost Vincent’s ability and mindset when it came to playing the political game; he did not have to like what corporate did and did not do, but he certainly had to win them over in order to influence them in the way he wanted.

While Vincent appreciated the autonomy, he also knew it was only a matter of time before corporate took notice. When a new VP of Sales arrived, Vincent hoped for mentorship. Instead, he got micromanagement, contradiction, and disdain.

The new VP—a man with a background in apparel, not telecom—walked into Vincent’s top-performing stores and ripped them apart. No acknowledgment of growth, no praise for improvement. Just nitpicking. Worse, he told Vincent that working seven days a week was a sign of ineffectiveness—then turned around and told the entire company to start working weekends.

The hypocrisy didn’t end there.

Despite running the most successful district in the company, Vincent was passed over for promotion. When his boss was quietly demoted, recruiters reached out to fill the vacancy. Vincent was the logical choice. The most qualified. The most effective. But when he applied, he didn’t even get an interview.

Instead, the VP gave him the patented line: “You’re not ready yet, but you’re the most influential person in Minneapolis.”

Vincent had heard that one before.

Meanwhile, he continued to dominate. His marketing strategies, hiring model, and store transformation tactics were being adopted across the organization. But each time he brought up a raise, he was shut down. “If we gave you one, we’d have to give everyone one.”

What started as a platform for long-term growth quickly became another prison. New layers of red tape suffocated his creativity. Audits were weaponized. Promises of support and innovation turned into endless bureaucracy. Corporate would promise to back Vincent’s lead generation idea (which he was bringing forward from his Cellular Horizons days) in October, then push it to November, December, and eventually into oblivion.

And when stores were finally performing well, Vincent’s team was pillaged to help failing peers. His top performers were handed to his counterparts in the district. It was socialism disguised as strategy. All while quotas kept rising and commissions kept falling.

Vincent was exhausted. He had built his career on care—on investing in his people, coaching, guiding, and unlocking potential. But Tel-Cell wasn’t interested in development. They wanted robots. Lemmings. Compliant managers who would fire instead of coach, cut corners instead of build. And they needed to keep churning and burning because the longer people were there, the more glaringly obvious their incompetence. A simple perusal of their Glassdoor reviews made that abundantly clear.

Still, Vincent found light in the darkness.

He promoted a senior rep who had been passed over time and time again. She was ready to quit. Instead, he believed in her, told her the truth, gave her a path—and she became one of the top managers in the country. He had a dozen stories like that. People overlooked by everyone else who thrived under his leadership.

But the higher-ups never saw it.

He lost a step. He was still worlds above the rest in the way of work ethic, drive and determination, resilience and grit, but he was not what he once was in the way of pure, loyal juggernaut and phenom. He wasn’t 25 anymore; he was 35. The 12, 14, 16 hour days every day started to break him down. The new VP Monday morning quarterbacked some of Vincent’s recent promotions of leaders who were doubling their performances from the year prior – who in the world was this idiot?

He rode in claiming he would do away with the arbitrary quotas and rolled out this magical secret sauce (his words) only to literally change it every single month without fail so he could pay out as little as possible on goals that made no sense. He led through fear and intimidation and made the teams get on sometimes 3 conference calls per day, 6 days a week. Of course, he wasn’t on them. The guy didn’t know the first thing about leadership: build the relationship. Earn trust.

Vincent started to hate every facet of sales. They were peddling inferior service and the company kept cutting costs and outsourcing overseas and laying people off but only to fund plan changes. It didn’t go into improving their service or improving their god-awful computer systems that crashed on employees numerous times every day in the stores.

They were short-sightedly skimping the people who could have made them so much more money, in favor of squeezing out as much profit as they could at their expense through bloated quotas and reduced commissions.  If only they had cared about the people, the profits would have been there in droves.

Leaving was a risk, but the risk took Vincent away from something he knew he could not do for another second. There was such a sense of relief when he was able to give notice to the smug, arrogant, lying VP.

So he left. He signed off, “Tell them I’m through, for love of the game,” to quote one of his favorite movies. Vincent had made inroads with a local consultant firm that had promised him 6-figures and he would be a sales consultant for small businesses in the Twin Cities.

Tel-Cell brought in a replacement Regional Director—a buddy of the VP—who began dismantling everything Vincent had built. Vincent’s promotions were questioned. His stores picked apart. The culture he worked so hard to build was suffocated by fear, contradictions, and politics.

Eventually, the top reps he had nurtured left. The managers he promoted were micromanaged to death. His replacement tanked the district. The team morale vanished. Sales plummeted. Stores closed.

He walked away from the best financial situation of his life to date because the cost to his soul was too high. The freedom, the victories, the results—it didn’t matter anymore if it came at the expense of integrity and purpose, having to work 7-days a week doing something he hated and was unappreciated while doing. He made the decision to walk away from sales.

The Tel-Cell experience had shown him the full spectrum of what he could endure. He had triumphed in adversity, outperformed every expectation, rewritten the rulebook—and still been treated like he was irrelevant. The company enjoyed 60% year over year growth while Vincent’s market performed at a 170% clip but, alas, he was “not ready for the next level.”

It taught him a critical truth: no amount of success can protect you from small-minded leaders. It was too many layers and nonsensical rules at the top. Folks at corporate trying to justify their jobs with three different audit processes, a scheduling system that made no sense and didn’t work and a hapless marketing team.

Vincent was headed to the #1 small business consultant firm in Minneapolis.  Or so they claimed on their website and materials that they had been voted that.

And on Day 1, it unraveled from the word, ‘go.’  He walked in and these people who just weeks prior had sold him that this was a great opportunity were part of the most dysfunctional team he had ever seen. 

The leader was anything but a leader; he was disheveled, had no control and was as motivating as a doorknob.  His sidekick was a useless stooge who brought no value or clients and all he did was tell stories about his past in sales and make useless spreadsheets.  He gave a presentation on Q2 results and year-to-date results and… there was nothing going on.  Everybody was jumping ship; three of them quit in the first week Vincent was there. 

What had he done?

Vincent learned that the ‘#1 consulting firm’ bit was a lie; they had been nominated, and the nomination came from their own people.  They sold him that he would make more money there than he had in wireless… that last year everyone’s average income was $100,000 and surely he would make even more… and then he found out their top earner had actually made a little over $1,000 in 9 months.  Total. 

They had prepped Vincent that it would take a month to get his first check after he got on with the projects they were putting him on.  Turned out there were no projects. He started using LinkedIn to connect with C-level executives in the Twin Cities and actually got a CEO of a software company to take a meeting. The two goons at the top snaked the lead and claimed it was their own ‘whale,’ cutting Vincent out completely even though what the new client needed was sales training. 

Then it became 2 months until he’d get paid, 4 months until he’d get paid.  Simply put: Vincent Scott took a gamble leaving merciless, thankless, toxic sales and it didn’t pay off.

He actually tried crawling back to the VP he had told off just weeks prior to no avail. Vincent thought he had been at rock bottom before; now he was back. For months.

As for his lawsuit, it had now been ongoing for over 3 1/2 years.

Vincent believed he would be reinstated to ABM pretty quickly once he presented the fact, but he was gravely mistaken. And all the time and inability to realize justice and peace ate up every ounce of his ability to trust and believe in others or in justice.

It took 1,229 days until he finally faced them again.  3 ½ years of waiting for some semblance of justice after being illegally terminated from a department he built because he helped his team stand up to a corrupt, unethical criminal dictator.

The court process was horrific. It wasn’t like on television where you can fast forward or have a commercial break separating the deposition from the case and the verdict.

Days-long depositions of Vincent, grilling him on every single facet of his personal and professional life. Making him re-live that experience over and over; and this was after waiting 3 years just to get to this point and shelling out $20,000 in attorney fees.

Finally on June 4, 2013, Vincent Scott sat in a room with his attorney, who went back and forth between rooms, as ABM wanted to settle. 10 hours went by of haggling and frustration. They would reinstate him but accept his resignation and mark him as rehirable. He had to listen to the warped, disgusting, inconceivable way they were going to defend themselves against him and the way they were going to paint Vincent. But Vincent had aces in the hole: enough time had passed that nobody was scared of Keith Dickhauser anymore and they were willing to testify that Keith threatened to do to them what he did to Vincent.

Vincent had suffered through this long enough. He at last agreed to the final offer. It was a fraction of what he could have made in a successful court hearing, but after considerable and prudent saving, he bought his dream car: a black Aston Martin convertible.

He had looked out the window and just knew it was time to let it go. It was less than he wanted and deserved, but he did not want to live in it anymore. He couldn’t wake up one more day with this weighing on him.

It was an immense season of change.

Vincent and Autumn Westwood, despite a rocky 2012, were together all of 2013. Vincent was finally rid of the monkey on his back of ABM and the second-guessing and torment that situation had brought. He was diligent in trying to find his next role and according to a District Lead at Apricot Innovations, a savvy tech company that Vincent had actually turned down in favor of more money at Tel-Cell, he was starting as their Business Leader on January 1, 2014.

January 1 came and went. The role didn’t materialize. Nate Schulman, the hiring manager, became a phantom. It took 2 weeks for Vincent to track him down and Nate relayed that the moving pieces that would have opened the role hadn’t happened. Vincent had actually turned down a job at Majestech-Ware – another tech organization – for a Business Sales Manager player-coach role, in the interim, ironically dangled by a Tel-Cell frenemy named Mitch Finkleson.

Life and career never go the way you anticipate. If they ever become predictable, the rug is about to be pulled out from under you.

It was February 2014 when Vincent Scott called Mitch Finkleson, hat in hand, to ask if the Business Sales Manager role was still available. Mitch had moved on with his 2nd choice.

However, his 2nd choice had backed out in the process because his current company – Tel-Cell – had offered him a retention bonus to stay.

Vincent Scott would start with Majestech-Ware in March 2014.

Unbeatable: The Legend of Vincent Scott – Chapter 14: Blue Skies & All Roads Lead Back

Life never came with a rulebook. At best, it offered a halfhearted suggestion of a roadmap, punctuated by detours no one asked for and landmarks no one recognized.

Vincent Scott had always prided himself on following his gut—a sixth sense honed from surviving dysfunctional workplaces, toxic leadership, and a thousand meetings that led nowhere. But here he stood, in a space unlike any other, driven solely by instinct and scar tissue.

He had filed a case through proper government channels in January 2010. Sat in a soul-crushing waiting room. Got lectured by a bitter bureaucrat who dismissed his evidence until he practically sold her on her own job. A year later, the file was assigned to a caseworker—Jon Jefferson—who treated Vincent’s hundreds of pages of evidence like junk mail and contacted none of his witnesses.

Justice wasn’t just blind. It was lazy.

Meanwhile, his former department—now a sinking ship—was laying off half its workforce. There was grim satisfaction in that, but it didn’t fill the hole in Vincent’s chest. He was somewhere better now. Kind of. He had autonomy. He had ideas. He was the show. Even if it was on a run-down, paltry stage.

At Cellular Horizons and Brink Management Company, structure was an abstract concept. Vincent was reinventing marketing on the fly, rewriting his playbook from scratch on zero budget and a prayer. He turned throwaway fliers into weapons of war—buyout incentives before they even exited in wireless, social media campaigns, promotions tailored to lure competitors’ customers. He built store pages, cultivated thousands of followers, and started running the business like a lab: testing, refining, scaling.

And he didn’t just delegate—he hustled. He put fliers on windshields in the summer heat while employees watched from the air conditioning. He cold-called local businesses, forged partnerships, handed out value before he asked for anything in return. Slowly, those who mattered noticed. Some even followed.

Emotionally, though, Vincent was running on fumes. He kept everyone at arm’s length—except for Elizabeth. His daughter was his sanctuary.

He worked nonstop. Seven days a week. Answered every call. Put out fires with both hands. He used work to dodge commitment, feelings, everything. But this version of Vincent—this version—was humble. He still led the pack, still carried more weight than anyone else, but he gave credit where it was due. Quietly. Graciously.

Still, the chaos never ended.

The people working in the stores were not really cut from the same cloth of hard work and polish and discipline. The only guy who would actually consistently show up to work for the White Bear Township store was an HR nightmare. Vincent had to scrape the bottom of Craigslist to find anyone willing to fill gaps, even if it meant dangling hollow promotions.

Terry Bunche was burning out. Bruce Rollins—corrupt, inflated, chemically enhanced—demanded Terry commit fraud to help him hide failing sales by creating fake returns. This was warfare.

This wasn’t in any training manual Vincent had ever read.

It was unorthodox madness. And Vincent was surviving it.

Each fire he put out spawned two more. His managers ignored calls, missed forms, skipped meetings. Theft, laziness, apathy. Sales slumped. Paychecks came up short. Vincent’s life felt like plugging a sinking ship with his bare hands.

And yet… he kept going. It was all he knew.

He tried to shake the feeling that he had sold his soul for a false promise. But Jordan Wallace—his enigmatic, rule-breaking CEO—always had a new rabbit to pull from the hat. Millions dangled in the distance. Kickbacks. New stores. Expansions. Vincent could be the general of an empire. Wallace would promise these “blue skies” ahead while globetrotting and partying on the company’s dime while employees were in the Wild West.

A lavish dinner in Indianapolis with Wallace, Lee Christian, and the Moriarty Wireless brass painted a picture of prosperity: lobster, scotch, strip clubs, and sunglasses at midnight. Wallace strutted like a rockstar. Vincent watched in quiet awe, remembering a younger version of himself—hungry, reckless, desperate to impress. Now? He only wanted stability. He only wanted enough.

Moriarty Wireless was more impressive thank Brink—chaotic, irreverent, loose-lipped—but effective. Their growth was real. And maybe, just maybe, Vincent could parlay his explosive abilities into a move over there. Anything but here.

Then came the marketing breakthrough: Vincent and Terry developed a toll-free number and landing page strategy to capture leads at scale. It was bold, brilliant, and repeatable. This could be his ticket. Wallace dangled millions again, painting Vincent as a future mogul. Vincent believed it—for now.

The pace, however, never slowed.

Rollins grew more erratic. Layoffs. Harassment. Petty accusations. Vincent had enough. He called the Wilsons, pushed for Rollins’ removal, and won. Small justice, but justice nonetheless.

With every collapsed store or failed manager, Vincent pivoted, sacrificed, recalibrated. He launched cold call campaigns, hosted hiring blitzes, fought theft, filled paperwork gaps, and dragged the region upward by sheer will.

He couldn’t save everyone. He couldn’t do everything. But he kept doing something.

Then came a spark of light: the Superstar contest. A sales competition. A joke turned into opportunity. Vincent and his New Brighton team filmed a comedic, perfectly timed spoof involving Barack Obama, a Jamaican ambassador, and Vincent turning into Superman at the conclusion. It won the region. He was off to Chicago to compete nationally in a role play versus younger cellular phone aficionados.

Vincent Scott arrived at the airport two hours early, a dog-eared James Bond novel in hand—a ritual of preparation, not for reading, but for resetting his mind. He spotted a young manager, Ben Kennett, and a senior exec, Kurt Stillwater. Vincent struck up easy conversation. Kurt took his seat in first class. Vincent and Ben sat together in coach.

Ben, 26 and eager, wanted to soak up every ounce of Vincent’s knowledge. Lunch before the competition became a crash course in leadership, recruiting, and marketing. Vincent obliged, mentoring with the grace of someone who’d been forged in fire and failure. He didn’t need to impress—he was already at peace with what he knew.

The competition was stacked with hungry twenty-somethings—some experts in specs, some prodigies in sales. Vincent, at 32, wasn’t the most technical. He hadn’t even been trained on the system. But he wasn’t there to know the most. He was there to connect the best.

While the others rehearsed their pitches like actors cramming for lines, Vincent stood quietly, trusting instinct. When it was his turn, he walked in unrehearsed and made the room laugh. He said the role player’s name. He told a story. He closed the deal. Effortlessly.

The result stunned the room: Vincent Scott – Superstar. He won the entire competition.

He didn’t win because he out-prepped them. He won because he outplayed them. He knew how to read the room, connect, and close—not with tech specs, but with presence.

That week, Vincent delivered a powerful speech to a room full of military families at a Chamber luncheon, then captivated executives on a panel at a Moriarty Wireless convention. He was no longer just surviving. He was ascending.

Every room he entered, he now owned—not because he shouted the loudest, but because he listened, learned, and knew just when to speak.

June 27, 2011. It was supposed to be the most important meeting in Brink Management Company history.

Vincent Scott had spent weeks preparing a full-scale launch of a lead generation campaign—his Hail Mary pass to rescue a struggling business from the quicksand of underperformance. The flyers had arrived. The toll-free numbers and websites were live. The system was ready. He called it “shooting fish in a barrel.” All his team had to do… was show up.

But when Vincent walked into the Golden Valley store that Monday afternoon, the room was nearly empty.

Jesse Fairbanks? On vacation. Cliff Watson? Also out. Oscar didn’t show. De-Metre was tied up with customers. Reggie was installing a home phone himself—something any rep could’ve done. This was not apathy. This was insult. And Vincent—after all the awards he’d won, speeches he’d given, and opportunities he’d created—was speechless.

He delivered the meeting anyway. Passionately. Professionally. He filmed a video, made it mandatory viewing, and kept going like he always did. Because that’s what leaders do.

The truth? Vincent was exhausted. Four months into Brink, and it felt worse than the nine years he’d endured at his last job. Managers couldn’t be bothered to dial into calls. He lost two stores in a week. Mankato had been gutted and left for dead by Dustin “Bruce” Rollins. Vincent was now personally ferrying cash and equipment between cities, doing damage control and PR and inventory logistics all on his own. There was no roadmap for this.

But he didn’t quit. He couldn’t. He’d bet on lead generation to change everything. And now… it had to.

Brink sputtered to mediocre gross profit results for June. Better than what they had been pre-Vincent, but not enough. But every key metric was up. Vincent’s process was working—even if the people weren’t. And if this campaign hit, it could raise revenue by 50% per store per month. If.

Vincent was tired. Alone. Running out of rope. But he was still standing.

Chris Jeffries, once a thorn in Vincent’s side, was now being courted by Doug Wilson and the puppeteer herself, Susie, to take ownership of the Greenfield store—an offer bundled alongside the Hermantown, Cloquet, and Plymouth locations that had long tested Vincent’s patience. Of course, it started the way all their schemes did: with lunch. Because nothing cemented backroom deals like a corporate meal on someone else’s dime.

In the weeks that followed, Vincent was swept into a rhythm of monthly road trips up I-35W North. Susie’s plan was simple: leverage the shared windshield time between her, Doug, and Vincent to push her regional agenda while appearing supportive. The reality? She used the time to control the narrative, dominate lunch orders, and steer strategy toward her priorities—typically thinly veiled micromanagement masked as operational concern.

The Hermantown store, once a regional crown jewel, was spiraling—$45,000 in gross profit had slipped to $30,000 in just four months. Meanwhile, stores like Bloomington, Eden Prairie, and New Brighton were roaring back under Vincent’s leadership. But Hermantown’s slow erosion was dragging down the collective tide. Despite Jeffries slowly warming to Vincent’s teachings, his lieutenants resisted, uninterested in pivoting toward the future.

Vincent accepted it: some people didn’t want to change. And if they weren’t willing to move, he wasn’t going to keep dragging them. “Move the middle,” he muttered in his head. “Only if the middle wants to move.”

But there were sparks of hope. The marketing platform he’d helped architect with Terry Bunche and Saul Portman was gaining traction.

Jordan Wallace arrived in Minneapolis for the Brink Management Company midyear review dressed like a corporate peacock—turquoise shirt, darker blue tie, feigned polish. It was a rare effort from the man who usually showed up looking like a philosophy major’s dropout fantasy.

Vincent introduced him to Terry and ushered him into the back room where they unveiled the new lead generation system. It was sharp, elegant, adaptive. Terry outlined the mechanics, Vincent filled in the vision. For a moment, the air was electric.

But then Jordan Wallace opened his mouth.

“Ever heard of Berkshire Hathaway?” he asked casually, shifting the entire tone of the room.

Vincent and Terry nodded.

“I don’t care about cell phones,” Wallace declared. “I like starting things, then collecting residuals while I move on to the next shiny object.”

He launched into a dreamscape of Wally’s Weenies (a hot dog stand he owned), wireless superstores, and saloon-style restaurants. The lead generation system? Just a spoke on the wheel. The mobile business they were all neck-deep in? Just a stopover.

“I got Vincent here by selling him the ‘blue skies,’” Wallace said, half-laughing. “That’s what I do. Pitch the best-case scenario. Whether or not it happens, who knows.”

Vincent froze. The air tightened. He’d been had—openly duped by a man who admitted selling him a dream he never intended to deliver.

And now, Wallace wanted pay cuts. “We’re bleeding money,” he said, ignoring the wine tours and lavish weekend escapes that bled the company dry. “Sacrifice now, and we’ll all be millionaires later.”

Vincent stared through him. He had traded security for leadership, bet on himself, and now the pot was evaporating. But he didn’t flinch.

“If I can make you money and run this company better than anyone,” Vincent said, “you’ll have to pay me like it.”

Still, Wallace nodded half-heartedly and disappeared like a magician’s trick—off to his next distraction. Vincent and Terry stood in the parking lot afterward, reflecting on everything they’d just heard.

“I’m not here for him,” Terry said. “I’m here because I believe in you.”

And that was all Vincent needed.

At the midyear review the next day, Cellular Horizons, Moriarty, and Brink brass celebrated a 150% year-over-year improvement. Vincent was toasted and lauded for his market turnaround. Greenfield was reopening under Jeffries. New Brighton hit its first $20,000 month under De-Metre Jones. There was momentum.

But behind the scenes, Wallace’s circus rolled on. Lead generation delays. Marketing support failures. Susie and Doug playing political chess. Payroll mistakes every cycle. Wallace’s marriage unraveling in plain sight. Refurbished phones being sold as new. And now, the 1099 plan.

Wallace and Vincent’s Texas counterpart Aaron Hartley had pivoted: get rid of salaried employees. Turn everyone into commission-only contractors. Make them host parties to mine their personal networks for leads. It was amateur-hour sales strategy, masquerading as innovation. Vincent refused. He wouldn’t sell out his people.

Wallace and Hartley offered incentives to force managers to convert their staff. Lee Christian, Vincent’s Missouri counterpart, and Vincent were flown to Wisconsin, wined, dined, and handed fake promotions while Wallace shaved $750,000 off the books. By the time Vincent sobered up, he realized his title of “Regional VP” came with a pay cut.

Still, he pushed forward. He hosted daily rally calls, drove across Minnesota, personally cold-called leads, trained reps, and tried to hold the crumbling machine together. In Dallas, he found chaos—no leadership, no structure, just broken promises and disillusioned employees.

And yet, everywhere Vincent went, results followed.

The company didn’t rise. He raised it. Like Atlas, he held it up. And the reps knew it. The managers knew it. Even Wallace knew it—his new ploy was to parade Vincent around Dallas like a show pony while still stiffing him financially.

Meanwhile, the whispers started. Employees from all over the company began asking Vincent to take over. “Go to Moriarty,” they said. “Lead us.”

Doug and Susie Wilson undermined him, leaked his conversations to Wallace, and squashed opportunities like Volition Wireless trying to poach him and Saul. But Vincent just smiled through gritted teeth.

Wallace continued to make empty promises—Vincent would become President of Brink, Wallace claimed. But the carrot dangled endlessly while the company spiraled deeper into debt, inventory vanished, and trust evaporated.

Vincent led with everything he had left. Calls. Clinics. Conference speeches. Strategy. He was the only thing keeping the ship from sinking—performing miracles on a stage too small for his talent and a paycheck too small for his worth.

Jordan Wallace committed the two greatest sins in business: failing to pay employees and failing to deliver inventory.

Wallace was shamelessly negligent, but he offered Vincent a golden status: the only employee he absolutely refused to lose.

Vincent had reached out to Doug and Susie’s superiors—Kent Smyth and Kurt Stillwater—with a bold proposal: let Scott Enterprises, LLC run the region. Crickets. Stillwater ignored him entirely. Smyth politely declined, citing Moriarty’s past failures with external partners. Ironically, they were forming their own management company instead.

Vincent called it what it was: “1099-a-palooza.” The idea was to hire independent contractors en masse. Faced with no choice as paid employees balked at what they were becoming, Vincent finally complied, with vigor—75 he brought on in the first week. Whatever it was, Vincent would always do it big and do it best.

Predictably, most evaporated within days, some vanishing before orientation finished. A few lingered. Among the most unforgettable: Mitch McConnell, a self-proclaimed B2B manager with five DWIs and no license; Andrea Kessler, a scandal-plagued transplant from Indiana; and Camille Bright, a Hooters server with charisma but zero work ethic. Yet in the rubble, a small core stayed—for better or worse. They believed in Vincent.

The formula, Vincent concluded, was to lock down in-store excellence, then expand: doors, businesses, events, outreach. He’d pull it off with an all-star skeleton crew, razor-thin budget, and a lineup of mercurial contractors. The odds were grim. Which meant, to Vincent, the challenge was irresistible.

He stayed regimented—conference calls, store visits, daily reporting—even as the system collapsed around him. He went from visiting three stores per day to one, barely. His energy was leaking. The calling tree with Saul Portman and Terry Bunche was their therapy: daily “what-if” scenarios and pipe dreams of a rescue by power players like Alan Starr. They chased blue skies through endless gray.

The core team—Saul, Terry, De-Metre, Darryl—kept Vincent going. They lunched frequently at a local deli, talked strategy, vented, and hoped. Meanwhile, the payroll fiasco metastasized. Missing commission checks, skewed payments, no communication. Inventory was just as abysmal—requested products never arrived, and managers like Vincent had to play courier between stores.

Terry, hardened by the Bruce Rollins era, declared Brink was circling the same drain. The same signs were flashing: unpaid debts, undelivered inventory, hollow morale. Vincent, Saul, and Terry reached a tipping point. They briefed Doug Wilson in a backroom at Bloomington. This was a plea—not for themselves, but their people. The verdict: Doug would “look into it.” That was all.

Chaos became the new normal. Employees ghosted without notice after unpaid paychecks. Jordan Wallace offered more broken promises—most laughably, that he would work seven days a week, rotating among four regions, handing out fliers and cold-calling. That lasted three days.

Vincent’s corporate card began getting declined, sometimes mid-transaction, as Wallace and others maxed it out for inventory. Vincent had to foot the bill for recognition programs, customer lunches, and gas—without warning. But he soldiered on.

He threw himself into the fray—hosting a karaoke night for breast cancer awareness (bringing down the house with renditions of Frankie Valli and Marvin Gaye), and parading with a megaphone outside his former employer ABM’s downtown fortress: “Stuck in a wireless contract? I’ll buy you out. Tell ‘em Vincent sent you!”

It was madness, but it was his. His antics lit up his phone with cheers, jeers, and disbelief. He felt the collapse pressing in, but he thrashed against it with defiant vigor.

Daily plans to hit four stores now often crumbled after one. The reality of the failures—more 1099 flake-outs, paycheck errors, no inventory, more broken promises—broke him down. For the first time, Vincent Scott walked away mid-day, picking up Elizabeth or retreating home in defeat. The mental and physical toll was brutal.

Still, the next day he’d try again. But more often than not, he was done by noon. The fire that had once burned hot with limitless drive was sputtering. This frightened him more than any business collapse.

He was giving his body, mind, and soul for a doomed venture—low pay, no benefits, no endgame.

The worst part? He knew he was destined for something greater. And yet, the path to that greatness was lost in fog.

Doug and Susie Wilson, under fire from above, began their scapegoating campaign. They pointed fingers at Vincent, then at Saul, Terry—anyone close to him. They suggested terminations in situations that (while justified) would literally cripple stores, criticized team loyalty, and floated improvements that required nonexistent funds.

They didn’t care about solutions—only absolution.

The truth was the staff wasn’t perfect. Neither was Vincent. But how could they be when they were mistreated, underpaid, and lied to? Even so, sales were somehow up year-over-year. But the moment Hermantown dipped, the Wilsons pounced.

Stillwater, Flowers, Smyth—they were fed a narrative. That Vincent was mismanaging. That his loyalty to underperformers hurt the business. Not that they had no products to sell or money to pay their people.

Terry was scapegoated: accused of not knowing systems or products, even as he worked 80-hour weeks and kept Greenfield afloat. Saul was scapegoated: accused of absenteeism when he was actually delivering inventory. These were not flaws. These were the last strands of sanity holding the operation together.

The daily emotional rollercoaster was unrelenting. One hour: joy for a successful lead-gen initiative. Next: realization that the paycheck wouldn’t cover his bills. Vincent was doing more than ever—across four states—and being paid less than when he ran Minnesota alone.

His former ABM department, trending toward $26 million in annual revenue without him, had hit $51 million in his final year. He had built an empire. Now, he was scraping together sales for a shell of a company.

He filed complaints, submitted hundreds of pages of evidence. But his government caseworker, Jon Jefferson, offered the final gut punch: no angle, no case. Not race. Not gender. Not religion. Just Vincent—on his own. Again.

He had been back-and-forth with Autumn Westwood for 4 years and they still both struggled to be together or apart.

Vincent Scott had weathered his share of professional storms, but the situation in Texas felt different. Jordan Wallace, Brink’s absentee owner and king of empty promises, had once again summoned Vincent for a rescue mission—this time to the sun-scorched wasteland of Brink’s seven Texas stores, all of which had never turned a profit.

Wallace, who treated real business strategy like a suggestion box, needed Vincent to assess the carnage and draft a plan: save or scrap. Simple, right?

Aaron Hartley, the man in charge of Texas operations, picked up Vincent from Love Field in a Camry that sounded like it had been in more fights than Vincent himself. They exchanged tight-lipped pleasantries. Hartley knew Wallace viewed him as expendable, and Vincent—Wallace’s golden boy—was here for a reason.

What Vincent found was worse than he expected. Staff who hadn’t seen their manager in weeks. No comprehension of their compensation. No training. No inventory. No insurance offerings. Morale was non-existent.

At lunch, a disheartened Hartley admitted, “Yeah, I stopped giving 100% a long time ago.”

Vincent didn’t hide his frustration. “You know, I once believed in hard work. In purpose. But this—this is a mess.”

Over shrimp tacos, Vincent sketched out a plan. He would transplant his top Minnesota managers to Texas—Reggie, De-Metre, and Darryl. Each would manage two stores until they could groom replacements. Hartley stared in disbelief as Vincent presented it.

“This… this could actually work,” Hartley murmured.

“Leave Wallace to me,” Vincent said.

He called Wallace that night. Vincent made his pitch with a confidence that could sell sand in a desert. Wallace bought it.

“You’re probably the smartest guy I’ve ever worked with,” Wallace said. “Send me the plan. I’ll take it to the investors.”

Back in Minnesota, Vincent received a hero’s welcome at a leadership seminar. Surrounded by his team—Saul, De-Metre, Darryl, Terry—he delivered a five-point manifesto on leadership that earned him a standing ovation.

Build relationships.Eliminate obstacles.Focus on people and process.Don’t get caught in minutiae.Be the ambassador of the business.

But victory is fleeting.

Within days, Jordan Wallace was back with more blue sky delusions—a social media site for wireless vendors, a “Facebook for phones,” and endless other distractions. Meanwhile, paychecks bounced, inventory vanished, and employee unrest reached a fever pitch.

Vincent pitched Wallace on a new structure: make him President of Brink Wireless. Wallace dodged.

Calls, complaints, and calamities came in like waves. Vincent canceled morning calls. He stopped wearing ties. He fought like hell to retain Saul and Terry, throwing together last-minute promotions and pay bumps to keep the wheels from falling off.

Alan Starr, the would-be savior, was always “99%” committed to taking over. But November 1 came and went with no change. Vincent turned back to LinkedIn and networking, hedging his bets.

By December, the chaos was overwhelming. Commission rules were rewritten post-month. Payroll errors were standard. Corporate demanded terminations of Vincent’s top performers. He refused.

“I’m not going to fire someone who’s doing their best through utter madness. You want to hold someone accountable? Hold me,” he told Susie Wilson.

He wore a bracelet that read “Blue Skies” every day—a joke turned mantra.

Vincent gave what he could, when he could. Cigars with Terry and Saul were his therapy. Coaching sessions were his sanctuary. The business was collapsing, but his pride, defiance, and dignity stayed intact.

As the year ended, Alan Starr remained a ghost. Wallace floated three scenarios: closure, consolidation, or franchising. None felt real.

Despite insurmountable odds, every store under Vincent’s direction—except Mankato, which closed after the implosion of Bruce Rollins—had exceeded its prior year December performance.

Days later, the other shoe dropped. Terry called Vincent.

“Our jobs were just posted online. Sales reps. Managers. All of them.”

“That’s their play,” Vincent said grimly. “Apply for your own job, get interviewed by people who don’t know you, and maybe they keep you.”

Doug Wilson finally texted back after weeks of silence: yes, employees should apply.

Then came the crushing confirmation from Jordan Wallace.

“They’re only buying the management contract. We still own the stores, but Moriarty gets control.”

“What about me?” Vincent asked.

Wallace hesitated. “I don’t think they’re going to offer you anything, dude.”

Vincent didn’t crumble. He composed. He fired off a detailed, passionate email to everyone—Moriarty, Cellular Horizons, Brink. A comprehensive documentation of the journey, his team’s victories, and his plea to emerge with his team on the other side of this.

Still, silence.

Doug and Kent made store visits. Vincent was excluded. The man who turned a ghost-town region into a thriving operation was suddenly persona non grata.

So he called a team meeting.

They met at the Golden Valley store. A folding table, folding chairs. De-Metre, Saul, Darryl, Terry—glum faces staring at their leader.

“Moriarty is taking over,” Vincent announced. “Ownership won’t change. Control will. You’ve been asked to apply. As for me… I have no reason to believe I’ll be brought on.”

Shock. Anger.

“This is ridiculous,” Darryl said.

“It’s life,” Vincent replied. “We accept it. We move forward. I took you as far as I could.”

Terry stopped him at the door.

“That’s what they want, for you to disappear. If you leave now, they win. Stay. Finish. Go out on your terms.”

Vincent nodded. He would.

Three grueling days of interviews followed. He submitted staffing plans, résumés, performance recaps. No response.

Then: a surprise. Mark Sturgis, a senior leader at Moriarty, wanted to meet.

At the Renaissance Hotel, Vincent faced a conference table of judgment: Sturgis, Susie, Doug.

“You’re here because your contributions are undeniable,” Mark said.

He pressed. Why didn’t Vincent fire De-Metre?

“Because the problem was his Assistant. I recommended De-Metre for a sales rep role and sent in my candidate for manager.”

Susie’s voice cracked with passive accusation. “Why has it felt like you versus us?”

Vincent stayed composed.

“Because when we asked for help, you told Jordan. And from that moment on, I had to look out for my people. I did what I was paid to do. I led. I delivered. I protected.”

Even Susie fell silent.

That night, Jordan Wallace called.

“Sturgis said it was the best interview he’s ever had. He might offer you something.”

Vincent smiled. Maybe, just maybe…

Sturgis’s call on January 18 confirmed Vincent’s training help. Nothing else. No job.

Then came Susie’s call. Her voice syrupy, fake. She “heard the news” and wished him well. The final slap.

He wrote a goodbye email to hundreds of people who had been part of the journey. His eulogy to a year of miracles and misery.

Terry hugged him. Saul called him an inspiration.

And Vincent learned from his daughter Elizabeth that Autumn was marrying her on-again, off-again boyfriend Chris.

As Vincent walked out of a Cellular Horizons store for the last time, he texted Autumn to meet him, as she was working across the street at the ABM citadel downtown.

“I can’t propose,” he told her. “But I want to try again. Valentine’s Day. Counseling. Disney with Elizabeth. I want to figure this out.”

Autumn cried.

They embraced.

Unbeatable: The Legend of Vincent Scott – Chapter 13: The 390-Day Exile

“Vincent Scott is no longer with the company,” Dickhauser declared during a lackluster Mark Rogers stand-up on Monday, January 25, 2010, eyes darting to gauge reactions. “It is business as usual.”

Back in his vacated office, Vincent’s belongings were being cataloged like remnants from a fallen empire. Photographs of his daughter, handwritten notes, campaign schedules, and years’ worth of strategy documents. They boxed his life up neatly, as if that could erase his legacy.

The carefully structured campaigns Vincent had designed were tossed. The rep coaching cadence that had made mediocre reps into closers was discarded. Scott Kinsey, now unchecked, accelerated his commission manipulation. Danny Boyd acted like a man promoted to executioner.

Vincent filed ethics complaints. He compiled evidence. He rallied former colleagues and worked his way up the legal and HR chain. But with every polite email from Karl Farr’s office and every unanswered voicemail to Gil Walker, it became increasingly evident that the machine had no interest in justice—only silence.

Keith Dickhauser threatened managers behind closed doors that if they helped Vincent, they would suffer the same fate. Managers and reps that had claimed he was family now treated him like a leper. They neither reached out nor took his calls.

In January 2010, Vincent Scott got his first true taste of the price of standing up to corporate corruption. His bright star was extinguished, and his world came crashing down.

He did not take it lightly. He hired an attorney and pursued legal action and followed that slow, arduous process. He applied to 50 or more jobs every week for months on end. Interviews came quickly for Director-level roles, and for a time it seemed Vincent might be reinstated or rebound to something better.

But that time never came.

Initially, his resolve was firm. But rejection letters arrived in droves. Friends disappeared to avoid guilt by association. The conspiracy that led to his fall was broader than he’d imagined. Determination gave way to disillusionment. He stopped shaving. Skipped showers. Skipped the gym. Drank more.

A man once up at 5 a.m. with fire in his soul was now a shell—on the couch, unkempt, jobless, hopeless.

390 days.

A year and a month. Thirteen months of self-loathing, heartbreak, unemployment, and endless job applications. He couldn’t help but wonder if standing up for the right thing was worth this much pain.

He could have kept his mouth shut. Looked the other way. Allowed fraud, commission scams, backroom deals, racism, sexism, and retaliation to go unchallenged. But that wasn’t in him. He had tried to escape, interviewing for a transfer the same day he was fired.

Each month, he trudged through snow to the unemployment office. A man who had once driven millions in revenue and mentored hundreds now stood among strangers in varying shades of defeat. He hated what had happened to him.

Each job interview brought false hope. The marketing firm that offered six figures—with no salary. The radio station that had filled the Director position but used the candidate pool to recruit commission-only reps. Every rejection chipped away at his confidence. He applied to over 1,600 jobs during this time, only getting a handful of interviews and was deemed over-qualified for all of them.

He polished his interview skills, crafting a brag book filled with articles, awards, and endorsements. He nailed every meeting. But the answer was always the same: “We’ve chosen someone whose skills are more closely aligned.”

He didn’t want to start over as a sales rep unless absolutely necessary. He hadn’t risen through the ranks just to return to entry-level. And yet, something intangible blocked every path forward.

At least The Selling Game was making progress. While at ABM, Vincent wrote a column for their newsletter and decided he wanted to write a book about sales and leadership with a unique spin including stories of how he learned the lessons. He pitched the manuscript to 968 publishers and agents. 15 read it. Six offered to publish it. Vincent signed on July 2, 2010, with the one who promised the best distribution. The book would launch on Elizabeth’s third birthday.

Vincent went all in on marketing. Press releases. Interviews. YouTube videos. His first teaser got 500 views in hours. The old swagger returned—suit, tie, charisma. He found a new arena to lead from.

The videos were cathartic. He mocked corporate vampires and sales zombies. Shared real tips. Cracked jokes. He was himself again. At least, a version of himself.

Haters emerged. Anonymous trolls sent death threats and vitriol. It hurt. But he kept going. He wanted to help others—even if they didn’t want it.

In January 2011, after over a year of waiting for something to give in his court case versus ABM and his job search, he was rejected for yet another role and was sitting, dejected, in his apartment.

He’d nearly ignored the voicemail from Jordan Wallace, but desperate, decided to call him back.

It had come a week prior, sounding like so many other vague promises from unknown recruiters: a generic-sounding man referencing a regional role at something called Brink Management Company. No company logo. No job title on LinkedIn. Just a voice with no pedigree. Vincent had all but dismissed it—until the third rejection that week pushed him past despair into decision. He figured, why not return the call?

It turned out to be the best decision he’d made in over a year. It turns out, Jordan Wallace ran the largest dealer for the largest management company supporting major cellular phone organization Cellular Horizons, and he was looking for a regional manager.

Wallace was young—just 29—but spoke like someone who had known nothing but success. In skinny jeans and a sport coat over a tee, he looked more Silicon Valley than sales floor. His hair was spiked with purpose. His laptop bag was slung over his shoulder like a general’s saber. Vincent, by contrast, showed up in a charcoal suit with a matching tie and slicked-back hair, exuding the polish of someone who still believed in the rules. Yet for all his perfectionism, he couldn’t help but feel somehow less than this hipster sales savant.

But Vincent didn’t get rattled anymore. He had been hardened. Instead, he listened. Took notes. Spoke thoughtfully. Delivered with passion. He had done the dance too many times to fumble now.

What was supposed to be an interview became a dialogue—two sharp minds probing one another, speaking the language of margins, people, and performance. Wallace wasn’t just hiring a manager. He was choosing a lieutenant.

Vincent made sure to show up with a plan.

When Wallace brought him to the big leagues—a multi-stakeholder conference call with investors, executives, and influencers—Vincent didn’t just talk. He presented. He had built a 15-slide deck, rich in Cellular Horizons branding, that outlined not just how he would run the region, but how he would revive it. He spoke of employee empowerment, cross-location synergy, digital lead generation, culture reinvention, and storefront consistency. He anticipated their questions. He disarmed their doubts.

He didn’t just want the job.

He wanted to own the opportunity.

When the call ended, there was a pause. Lyle Caminiti, the CFO, finally broke the silence: “That was the most comprehensive and visionary pitch I’ve heard from a candidate.”

Paul Gemini, the investor with a cigar in hand and a son who was underperforming in the same role Vincent now eyed, didn’t even argue. Derek Brink, the namesake of the company, nodded silently from his speakerphone. And Doug Wilson of Moriarty Wireless—a true kingmaker in the dealer world—seemed satisfied.

Vincent had just won the room.

Still, days passed with no response. Vincent had become used to that. He tried to temper his expectations, even as he checked his phone every hour.

Then on February 3, it came.

Wallace’s number flashed on his screen.

“Vincent—it’s Jordan Wallace, with Brink Management Company. How are you?”

“Doing very well, Jordan. Thank you. How are you?”

“I wanted to make it official and offer you this job. Are you ready to come on board?”

The words hit Vincent like a shockwave. He had imagined this moment more times than he could count. But hearing it? Feeling it? That was something else entirely.

“Absolutely,” he said.

But nothing is ever perfect. Especially not in sales.

The compensation was… complicated.

A $50K base with a $6,000 annual allowance for travel and meals. No health insurance. A draw-based commission structure where each store’s gross profit determined his cut. Theoretically, he could make over $200,000 a year. But theory didn’t pay bills.

It was a fraction of his last year’s W-2 from ABM. But it was more than unemployment. And, more than money, this was identity. Dignity. Reclamation.

He was back.

Vincent got his hair cut that weekend—back to the clean, short blonde style that had been his trademark during his peak years. It was symbolic. The long hair, the malaise, the stagnation—that was gone now.

Vincent spent those early days on the road with Wallace—touring stores, doing secret shops, and meeting managers who had long since given up on leadership. The region was fractured, neglected, and operating without rhythm or inspiration. Vincent saw an opportunity not just to manage—but to lead. To create something lasting.

“You’re basically the owner,” Wallace had told him. “This is your business.”

Those words stuck.

He wasn’t just some cog in a corporate machine anymore.

He was building something. And it started with people.

He met every store manager. Face-to-face. Shook hands. Listened to concerns. Took notes.

He started holding calls twice a week and scheduling monthly roundtables.

He outlined a shared vision—each store not competing against each other but working as one unit. He wanted to build morale and drove a new message: accountability with freedom.

After a year-long exile from corporate life, Vincent was grateful for the opportunity to get his groove back, while definitely wearing the scars of being abandoned and counted out by so many.

He would take his black Honda Accord to his handful of stores around the Twin Cities, armed with his 44-ounce Diet Coke and 24-ounce black coffee. While the store employees wore untucked Cellular Horizons shirts (that Vincent reminded them to tuck), he wore a button-down shirt, slacks and a tie.

The characters working in these stores were a far cry from the gunslingers pounding the phones at ABM. Furthermore, they had seen Vincent’s training videos and knew who he was.

Ironically, there was a Cellular Horizons in downtown Minneapolis, just feet away from the skyscraper that once housed Vincent’s former empire—the same 45-story tower he had been unceremoniously ousted from.

Inside the adjacent store, he met Saul Portman, the manager. At 23, Saul was a former college linebacker with natural charisma and discipline. Portman commanded respect. He had something Vincent could work with.

There was Reggie Sherman in Bloomington, a grizzled industry veteran running two stores and full of blunt truths. There was De-Metre Jones in New Brighton, a scrappy young hustler and student of the game, hungry for coaching.

And then came the owners.

Vincent met Dustin “Bruce” Rollins, a wannabe bodybuilder who gladly outlined his probability game of dating apps and quoted himself as often as Tony Robbins. His partners—Logan “Aaron” Tuncil and Chris Jeffries—were polar opposites. Tuncil was aloof and absentee. Jeffries was controlling, guarded, and passive-aggressive.

Jeffries’s stores, particularly in Hermantown and Cloquet, were distant both in geography and loyalty. He had purchased Vincent’s book and saw him as an outsider—a slick talker with sharp suits and sharper tongue. He resisted every suggestion Vincent made, dismissing his techniques and dismissing him publicly. Yet the numbers told another story. Jeffries’s stores struggled, while those who embraced Vincent’s methods—Saul, De-Metre, Reggie—began to climb.

In Hermantown, Vincent saw the cracks beneath the surface of supposed success. Despite the heavy foot traffic from nearby military bases, their performance metrics were hollow. There were no add-ons, no upgrades, no initiative. Just clerks doing clerical work.

That would change.

Vincent implemented a system of reporting, goal-setting, and relentless coaching. He turned every transaction into a learning opportunity. He raised the floor—and the ceiling. He made sure everyone knew the new expectations. He didn’t threaten. He inspired.

Back in Greenfield, a store located near another of Vincent’s old stomping grounds, the chaos of Rollins and Blankenship was in full bloom. Blankenship, a trust fund baby with zero sales acumen, was set to purchase the underperforming store with money he neither earned nor understood. Rollins, meanwhile, was already halfway out the door, chasing a dream of regional dominance in Texas.

Vincent had no choice but to clean house.

He hosted mass interviews. He scouted candidates by instinct, not by resume. And he found Terry Bunche, a former business owner and wireless top performer who had the gravitas, maturity, and hunger to lead. One misstep—a botched interview with Blankenship—almost lost him, but Vincent reeled him back in with honesty and vision.

Terry started by end of March, injecting professionalism and sanity into Greenfield.

As the days turned into weeks, and February became March, the region transformed.

Vincent poured himself into the job. He visited three stores a day. He coached on the spot. He sent out multiple emails daily with encouragement, ideas, scripts, and insights. The people who cared responded. The rest faded into irrelevance.

He bonded with key players: Saul, De-Metre, Reggie. They weren’t perfect, but they were committed.

Doug and Susie Wilson, representatives from Moriarty and Cellular Horizons, checked in frequently. They took credit liberally and offered criticism generously, but contributed little in terms of hands-on help. Vincent played their game—respectful, tactful, but unimpressed.

Wallace, for his part, kept dangling the future like a carrot on a stick. Management contracts in Texas. Residual income. Nationwide dominance. Millions.

Vincent kept grinding. His region produced a 59% increase in gross profit in just one month.

Accessory attachment soared. Insurance add-ons doubled. Morale hit a peak. Downtown Minneapolis had its best month ever. Hermantown’s traffic finally translated into sales. Greenfield stabilized. Even the skeptics started to whisper: maybe this guy Vincent was legit.

Unbeatable: The Legend of Vincent Scott – Chapter 12: The End of the Road

It was another strong finish for Vincent’s team in November 2009.

The first week of December 2009 arrived with frost in the air and fatigue in Vincent Scott’s soul. But true to form, Vincent sought solutions over sulking. He crafted a detailed, elegant plan to resolve the long-standing issues plaguing the department—clerical errors, commission miscalculations, and contract confusion. His email memo to the management team introduced a simple yet effective contract tracking system. Each stage of the contract—from inception to execution—would be monitored and updated in real-time, relieving the burden from any one person while promoting visibility and accuracy.

Managers flooded his inbox with praise. They loved the proposal. But Scott Kinsey—the very embodiment of bureaucratic sabotage—responded to the email thread with one red-letter word: STOP. He declared there was a vague plan coming in 2010 and all discussions must wait. Progress, it seemed, would have to wait too. He was clearly not interested in taking any semblance of a plan that Vincent and the managers wanted that could be implemented immediately. He did not want to fix the problems.

Vincent wasn’t surprised. Kinsey guarded his systems like they were ancient relics of infallible wisdom, even when those systems were crumbling. And while the department had achieved a 124% finish for November, December was predictably sluggish, capped by a company-wide holiday closure the final week. Vincent doubled down, shifting to warm leads and carrying the weight of the department on his back as so many tuned out for year-end.

He was limping, emotionally and physically, toward the finish line of a grueling year. The betrayal, backstabbing, and bungling from leadership had left him drained. He vowed silently: this would be the last full year he subjected himself to such dysfunction.

It was Friday, December 4, 2009 when, with zero fanfare, Keith Dickhauser called Vincent Scott to reveal the investigation was over and he “got a slap on the hand.”

He conceded that they used tough wording and gave him a warning of some sort, but he was staying in power. The Brotherhood had failed. HR had not carried through on their promise.

Dickhauser had apparently been told to manage Vincent and Mark rather than the managers, which just meant he was declawed from their vantage point but Vincent was going to have to put up with him just as much if not more.  Lovely.

“There are enemies among us,” Dickhauser said again. “I want to get the rats.”

Over the weeks to come, Keith referenced the warning multiple times daily as he constantly speculated as to who was behind it.  Rather than take it seriously that his entire management team thought he was a vengeful dictator, he never took it to heart; he just sounded like he wanted revenge.  He had been made fully aware that practically everyone interviewed had said nothing but damning things about him and his horrific leadership style.  Instead of inspiring him to turn over a new leaf it was clear Dickhauser was on a personal vendetta to uncover a culprit.

Amidst a power struggle with his own boss, Keith’s boss César left the company and was replaced in December by Gerald Murphy.  Gerald visited the office mid-month, meaning Vincent had to put on his well-rehearsed routine, and the new boss seemed impressive and serious about the task.  As usual, he was impressed with Vincent and asked Keith about his mobility and if he would be available to take over a struggling office in Atlanta.

Vincent and Autumn had lunch together occasionally as they were in the same office building again and it led to gradually more time together after hours as a family. 

However, Vincent was upset when he learned she was also still dating a guy in her apartment complex named Chris she claimed was her ex.

They exchanged a series of emotionally charged text messages—a culmination of years of unresolved tension. It was raw, personal, and regrettable. What Vincent didn’t realize was that Autum spoke about their argument at work. Danny Boyd overheard. Sensing an opportunity to act as Keith’s loyal errand boy, Danny told Keith and HR about them and they forced Autum into turning over the messages to HR.

The vacation week from Christmas to New Year’s in years past had been enough for Vincent to recharge his batteries, but this year it was not; another clear indication it was time to go. 

His first day back in the office was slow-starting; Vincent had compiled a 3-page plan for Keith, Mark and himself to peruse to get the year off to a successful start and proposed many changes in the floundering inbound unit.  They met for lunch to discuss but Keith’s ability to stay focused on the plan was nonexistent; he kept getting caught up on minor points that amounted to nothing and it was clear this was a hopeless cause.

Regardless, summoning strength he did not know he had from within, Vincent came back on Day 2 energized; he arrived at 6, ran several reports, put together his agenda for the manager meeting and office stand-up and both gatherings ended up blowing away their respective rooms.

By end of day, however, Keith had once again managed to derail the Vincent Scott express, calling for a 2009 revenue audit that would wipe out any and all missing contracts from the revenue and manager bonus totals for the previous year. 

Considering Kinsey’s and Danny’s clerical team was 700 contracts behind in production (nearly three weeks’ worth) and their missing contracts report indicated another 700 missing contracts (of which, historical data dictated probably 70-80% were already in), this sent the reps and managers into an uproar and tailspin that even Vincent could not contain.

This revenue audit consumed nearly every working day of January and about every last ounce of the patience of the entire organization.  Dickhauser’s incompetence was going to cost hundreds of people their jobs when this department came crashing down over the horrifically fractured processes.

Vincent’s cries fell on deaf ears.  He sent memo after memo to Keith explaining just how wrong this audit was on so many levels, how frustrated everyone was with these processes that had not been fixed in four years, and he offered solutions and to fix the problems himself. 

Vincent likened this to the doomed Titanic headed for certain peril against an iceberg; however, Vincent had the foresight to see the iceberg and warn the captain but those warnings were never heeded.

On Wednesday, the first week of January 2010, Vincent—home with a sick Elizabeth—received an unexpected call from Lydia Rawlings.  On the line in attendance: Keith Dickhauser.

“Vincent, recently a situation has come to my attention where you sent some text messages while on break to Autum Westwood.  The text messages contained vulgar language.  Do you know anything about that?” Lydia asked.

What in the world is this about? Vincent thought. 

“Absolutely, Lydia, as you know she and I have an extensive history and she is the mother of my daughter.  We had a fresh recent misunderstanding, and got into a heated discussion about it. It’s a personal matter.”

“Yeah, you know, I should have had the foresight to think her reporting to you was a bad idea,” Keith Dickhauser chimed in.

“Actually, all reporting in our department is ceremonial,” Vincent corrected him.  “Keith made that clear last year when he changed the bonus structure.  She and I are not even in the same quadrant of the building and have no contact, nor would we under any disciplinary circumstances.  Not only that, but this is a personal matter and has literally zero to do with the company.”

“Be that as it may,” Lydia continued, “she is a fellow co-worker and you are a manager in the company.  These text messages were brought to my attention by Danny Boyd and it is my responsibility to investigate.”

Brought to her by Danny Boyd?  What is going on here?

“Lydia, I can assure you, I take my responsibility to ABM very seriously,” Vincent began, thinking quickly on his feet.  “In no way did I abuse my power as a manager, threaten her job or her in any way, shape or form and this is a domestic issue. And if you have the messages, you know it wasn’t one-sided. Now, I don’t know what on earth is going on here, but this has nothing to do with my unblemished record in my 8 1/2-year career with ABM.”

“Vincent, I understand where you are coming from.  I have to report back to our Legal team, but I will go to them with that stance; you probably had no idea you were even doing anything that could be brought into the company, did you?” Lydia inquired, softening her tone substantially.

“Absolutely not.  I have been on my best behavior since our conversations about the anonymous attacks and I take my commitment to ABM very seriously,” Vincent repeated.

“I understand.  Actually, I have been through very similar situations with my daughter and with her estranged husband,” Lydia said, now sounding motherly in tone.  “I know these situations are difficult.  Just always remember, you have a beautiful baby girl and she is the number one priority.  I will contact Legal with the stance you two were simply having a domestic dispute and will get back with Keith if we need to discuss this further.”

“Sounds great, Lydia, thank you.”

“Keith, do you have any other questions?” she inquired.

“No,” he answered flatly.

“Okay, thank you both for your time,” Lydia concluded. Keith stayed on the line.

“Wow, why would Autumn throw you under the bus like that?” he inquired.

“This is the first I’ve heard of this.”

“Well, don’t talk to her about this.  I will talk to Lydia and see where we go from here.”

“Okay,” Vincent responded, still formulating the thoughts in his head.

The next morning, Vincent knew how to proceed and went to Keith’s office directly following his morning meetings.  He rapped on the door frame with his knuckle.

“You got a minute?” Vincent asked.

Keith looked up, startled, as Vincent rarely came to him for anything.  “Sure,” he replied. Vincent came in, closed the door and sat down.

“Why did Danny take those text messages to Lydia?” Vincent asked, as serious as he had ever been.

“Well, uh, I don’t know,” Keith responded, turning beet red and stammering.  “I, uh, had a conversation with him about it and asked him why he did that because I didn’t appreciate it.  But don’t go talking to him about it because I don’t need two of my top guys fighting.”

“Uh huh,” Vincent said, processing the information.  “So did you hear anything back from Lydia?”

“No, just that Lydia called me afterwards and said she had your back,” Keith said.

“Good.  Whatever this nonsense is, make it go away,” Vincent said.  “This is preposterous and I am tired of being under fire for nothing on a monthly basis.”

“How do you think I feel?” Keith retorted in his patented way of making everything about him.  “I have to constantly come to your defense.”

Vincent half-laughed.  “Come to my defense?  Whatever is going on here is just more nonsense and you know it.  Besides, even if that were true, I’m well worth any defense you may have ever done on my behalf.  Make this go away.”

“I don’t want you talking to anybody about this,” Keith advised.  “Let me handle it from here.”

“As you wish,” Vincent said.  “You find out how to make it go away.”

Okay, good to have this settled, Vincent thought.  For crying out loud, now he was being run through the mud for personal, off the clock, non-threatening and non-company related text messages to his ex-fiancé and daughter’s mother?  Wonders never ceased in this place.

Vincent tried to re-focus on business but with the entire workforce up in arms about the contracts and commission fiasco and the one man who had to deal with it not willing to budge, he had to finally embrace the fact that his time in this department was over. 

The breakfast and lunch conversations shifted to all of the managers in attendance talking about finding their next big project together or having a mass exodus.  There was no shame in leaving a sinking ship, they reasoned.  What was even more odd is that Vincent started to get even brasher in his dissenting opinions to Keith, Danny and Kinsey on the impending collapse they were leading the department into but they only went ignored. 

Mark Rogers even found a huge sale of $2,000 per month in advertising that was marked as missing and was seconds away from being removed from 2009 numbers until he went to the clerk’s desk personally and found it buried under a stack of papers – it just had not been marked off yet.  Had he not found that contract, the sale would have been removed from everyone’s results, commission would not have been paid to the rep, costing them over $3,600, and the customer may or may not have ever gotten their advertising.  This was just the biggest of hundreds of such mistakes and no one would do anything about it.

Vincent did something he had never done: applied for jobs that were not promotions in an attempt to leave.  Keith’s reaction when he found out?

“What’s your problem?” he barked over the phone, calling Vincent’s work line.

“My problem?” Vincent responded.  “What do you mean?”

“You’ve never hit on lateral transfers before,” Keith responded.

“Just looking for a new challenge. I’ve fulfilled my time in title and it’s my right to look,” he answered coldly.

The following Monday, Vincent got a call from an executive director in the business-to-business sect of the telecommunications portion of ABM, Vincent’s former home.  The fellow’s name was Cameron Cole, the position paid $15,000 more per year than Vincent’s current post and they set up an interview for that coming Friday.  Vincent breathed a sigh of relief; once again he was seemingly at a dead end and from nowhere an outstretched branch appeared to potentially save him. Vincent knew he would be sad to leave some of the people he worked so hard for and with, but he knew this was the right step and the right path. 

He sent Keith an e-mail with the job information and description attached, asking if a Friday interview would pose any problem and Keith simply responded with a one word answer: “No.”

Thanks for wishing me luck and have a great day to you, too, you jerk.

The drive that had carried him this far, the passion for making this department incredible and that will to win whatever the cost was gone.  Keith Dickhauser’s complete and utter disregard for him, his ideas, his hard work and the disrespect and lack of support he had shown Vincent for nearly four years had finally vanquished his spirit.  It was time to move on and he was not going to lift another finger to go outside of his basic job functions to help Keith be successful. 

Mark was in Greenfield three days per week and Vincent began to let him handle all office stand-up’s.  Vincent started arriving every morning at 8:30, canceled the morning manager meetings and stopped monitoring calls with managers unless they specifically requested it.  Vincent stopped sending out reports, sent literally no e-mails except for the daily schedule (which no longer was accompanied by anecdotes and scripts and achievers from the day prior) and made it abundantly clear with his actions he was playing under protest and he was finished.

He still coached the people that wanted it, had passionate development meetings with those who were serious about being successful, but he was not going to kill himself another day for the undeserving and unappreciative dictator that was destroying what he had spent four years building.

Mid-week, Keith pulled Vincent into his office and it was one of the meetings where he told Vincent to close the door.  Vincent sat.

“What the f— is your problem?” he blasted, attacking right off the bat.

Vincent acted aloof.  “What do you mean?”

“Are you going to pull your head out of your #@!$% today and do your job?” the clearly frustrated Dickhauser boomed.

“Tell me one component of my job I have not done,” Vincent responded calmly.

“Well, uh, you, uh, you’re just not acting like yourself.  You haven’t been sending out e-mails…”

“That’s not a mandatory part of my job.”

“You haven’t been getting here…uh…” Dickhauser trailed off and stopped himself.

“Oh, that’s what this is about,” Vincent laughed.  “That I’m not getting here at 6 AM every morning and breaking my back just so my opinions and advice can be ignored?  You’re right, I’m not.”

Keith looked shocked and horrified all in one.

“I will do my job and I defy you to find something I’m not doing that is in my job description.  But I am not going to kill myself for this place another day,” Vincent said defiantly.  “Period.”

“Well, I also understand you have not been doing stand-ups in the morning.  Mark is downtown tomorrow and I want you to have one to award the incentives,” Dickhauser backpedaled.

“Done.  Anything else?” Vincent asked, standing to leave.

“No,” came the defeated reply.

Vincent was more proud of that Thursday stand-up than most all of his others of years past.  He read the names of the contest winners and allowed the office to applaud, rather than bringing them down front and center, joking with them and praising them in front of the team as had become his trademark.  Then, he folded the piece of paper, put it in his pocket and said merely, “Guys, like my T-ball coach once told me, play hard and have fun out there.”  And he walked off to stunned silence. 

Jackson Taber, one of the top reps, standing front and center and who had also been privy to a lot of Vincent’s recent woes, said merely, “Brilliant.”

Not long after, Keith came into Vincent’s office and Vincent was sure it was to destroy him over the farce of a stand-up.  He closed the door and sat down.

“Vincent, you can’t go to the interview tomorrow,” Keith said, fidgeting nervously.

“Excuse me?”

“Well, this investigation over those text messages to Autumn is still ongoing.  Lydia called me and said you can’t go on the interview tomorrow.”

That revelation struck Vincent like a ton of bricks.  He was in utter disbelief.

“This is unacceptable.  Let’s get her on the phone,” Vincent said.

“What?” Keith said, reacting with shock to Vincent’s request.  “No, I, uh, have a call in to her.”

“Keith, is going on here?” Vincent asked.  “I want to talk to Lydia immediately.”

“No, I am handling this.”

“No, you’re clearly not handling this. This is my livelihood. I’ve earned the right to interview for this role and have given 8 1/2 years of my blood, sweat and tears to this company. I haven’t heard squat about this issue in weeks – I thought it was dead.  What are they going to do over a personal matter that has nothing to do with the company?  This is ridiculous!”

“I will call Lydia back and see if we can meet on this to clear it up.  Just call the guy and tell him you can interview next week.”

“Next week, huh,” Vincent said, his mind racing to try to figure out what was going on.  “Please call Lydia.  I want to talk to her today.”

“I will do what I can,” Keith said before departure.  “Did you finish covering all of your appraisals?”

“I have a few left.”

“I need them done today.”

“How am I supposed to have positive meetings with these guys when you can’t even tell me what in the world is going on here?” Vincent fired back, frustrated and angry.

“Let me try to call Lydia again.  I will keep you posted,” Keith responded.

Something was missing here.  Why was Keith being so secretive?  Vincent had not heard anything about those texts in three weeks – how could they resurface now?

After lunch, Vincent went to Keith’s office, shut the door and sat down.

“Did you talk to Lydia?”

“I have a call in to her.”

“Can we call her right now?”

“No, I am going to wait for her to call me back,” Keith answered coldly.

“So you can’t just try to call her while I’m in here?”

“No, I’m going to wait.”

“Keith, this is my entire life.  This is my career. This is how I support my little girl, and you can’t even tell me what is going on.  Forgive me for being a little untrusting, but how is this supposed to make any sense to me?”

“I don’t know what to tell you.”

“What to tell me?” Vincent shouted.  “Tell me that you have my back.  Why is it that in the last month, you had three different excuses as to why you weren’t going to send me to Top Gun?  Then somehow these text messages magically went to human resources.  Now, you won’t even pick up a phone for me, after everything I have done for you over the last four years?”

“How do you think I feel?” Dickhauser fired back, now clearly getting upset and letting out his frustration.  “Nobody had my back when I was under fire last year in that investigation.”

“Whoa, whoa, why are you making this about you?” Vincent asked. 

“I’m just saying,” Keith said slowly, backing down.

“No, what I’m telling you is I have killed myself for you for four years, ruining relationships because I was obsessed with this place, I work 10-11 hour days and am the driving force of this department and you can’t pick up a phone for me?”

Keith stared blankly at Vincent. “I will let you know as soon as I hear something,” Keith said oddly. 

It was clear: Keith was not even willing to pick up the phone.  He had lied to Vincent numerous times over the prior weeks.  He had done everything he could to try to frame it that Vincent was not doing his job but had failed in that endeavor as well.

“Thanks,” Vincent said, knowing what he had to do next.

Vincent left and headed back to his office.  He closed his door and picked up the phone.  He was under orders not to call Lydia but that did not stop him from calling Agnes Landry.

Vincent described the atmosphere of the last few weeks and that he knew Keith was up to something.  Agnes revealed that Lydia did not forbid him from interviewing and stated she would talk to Lydia about his call. 

Ten minutes later, Keith came into his office. “You can schedule the interview for Monday,” Keith said.  “And we have a meeting with Lydia downtown tomorrow morning at 11.”

“I just have questions as to why she was not permitting me to interview.  We don’t need a meeting for that,” Vincent answered.

“We are going to meet to clear up the text message business,” Keith answered. “Why would we meet in person?  Do you want it to be downtown so you can just walk me out without a commotion?” Vincent asked.

“We’re just going to meet to clear this up,” Keith said again, warily. 

“What should I bring?”

“I would recommend you bring anything that shows why you were in the state of mind you were in,” Keith answered. 

“Okay.  Thanks for calling her,” Vincent said, knowing full well Lydia had called him. 

This was extremely shady and Vincent had to get to the bottom of it.

Vincent came to play the following day, having stayed late the night before to print out hundreds of pages of supporting documentation, showing the entire history of his relationship with Autumn from messages on company time to everything that had gone through the courts for the custody case.

He also went into it knowing he could expose Keith as the liar he was.  Gloves were off. Keith Dickhauser had chosen to pull his support from Vincent Scott and clearly justified it by continuing to bring up the fact he had been under fire for his unlawful, hostile administration. Vincent now had no problem making this personal and drawing him out with Lydia as his witness.

Keith was nervous in the elevator before the meeting and tried to make small talk about work.  They walked into the Human Resources conference room and took seats opposite Lydia; Vincent sat directly across from her and Keith sat a few chairs down.

“I assume you know why you’re here,” Lydia said.

“Absolutely – Keith said we were here to clear up this text message issue that I thought was already cleared up so that I can transfer out of the department,” Vincent responded matter-of-factly. “I have an interview that I postponed from today until Monday so we may finish this conversation and I can answer for any outstanding questions, since there had been no investigation.”

Lydia proceeded to delve into legal speak about the hazards of management talking to non-management in this fashion, which was a complete 180 from her prior mantra of supporting him. 

Vincent spent a full hour going over every document in his arsenal, his voice cracking twice as the memories and pain of his tumultuous relationship with Autumn resurfaced.

“Okay, do you have anything else to add, Vincent?” Lydia asked.

This was clearly nothing more than a formality. They were going to discipline him – maybe even suspend him – after 8 1/2 years of a spotless, exemplary record. Keith was after him and HR was going to let the wild, mad dog win. He had to do something…

“Just that punishing me punishes my daughter and obviously also punishes Autumn, so I have no idea what I’m doing here,” Vincent answered.

“Well, I am going to meet with Dickie and decide where we go from here.  We’ll be back.”

In the fifteen minutes from the time they exited until their re-entry, a million thoughts went through Vincent’s mind. What were they going to do to him, and why? How could something like this actually cause any career trouble for him?  Lydia had already told him she supported his stance. 

Why was Keith not pulling him out of the fire? It was all about to become crystal clear.

When Lydia and Keith came back in, this time Keith sat next to Lydia so they were both across the table from Vincent.  Keith held a piece of paper in his hands, signifying to Vincent that discipline was coming. A final warning or – worse – a suspension – was surely about to be handed down.

Keith barely read from it.  It was a page four paragraphs long and Keith paraphrased two sentences. 

“Vincent, in light of recent events, the company has come to the conclusion that your unprofessional behavior can not be tolerated.  Effective immediately, you are terminated from the business.”

Vincent said nothing.  He did not react. He looked briefly at the man who had orchestrated this.

Vincent had worked with Legal for years – they never would have supported anything beyond suspension. Keith Dickhauser was behind this. 

At Lydia’s prodding he placed his identification badge and company-issued BlackBerry on the table.  He got up, remained speechless, and walked towards the door making clear he was ready to depart.  Lydia actually took a Kleenex and dabbed her eyes.  Vincent was amazed this had actually gotten a reaction out of her.

Lydia walked with him and Keith stayed a little behind.  They went down the escalators and Vincent took it all in: this company he had devoted all his energy to for 3,046 days was kicking him out. 

It made no sense. 

But it started to very quickly.

Vincent’s entire ABM career flashed before his eyes as he descended from the HR office on the mezzanine to the lower level via the escalator.  That first interview with Belinda Appleton.  Competing with Jake Stallings and Bambi Jennings and wreaking havoc on the sales charts and records as a rep.  Murderer’s Row with Ted Benton and Jeff Mason. Shelly Cheekwood.  Autumn.  The awards, cheering and accolades.  Building a department from scratch and its rise and now certain fall.  It was all over.

Keith caught up to them. 

“Vincent,” he said rather quietly.  Vincent stopped and said nothing, nor did he turn to face the man.  “I’m sorry it came to this.”

No, you’re not sorry, Vincent thought.  You did this. And I can prove it.

“Vincent,” Lydia said as he reached the turnstiles that, upon crossing, would make his exile complete.  “Do you want to make arrangements with Keith to pick up your personal belongings?” 

Vincent looked at her, thinking for a moment.  He had no desire to speak to that bastard again. 

“Mail them,” Vincent said.

He turned and walked through the turnstiles, out the front door and, head held high, onto the streets of Minneapolis, unemployed for the first time in fifteen years.

Unbeatable: The Legend of Vincent Scott – Chapter 11: The Coaching Clinic

The warmth of the Chinese buffet’s afterglow clung to Vincent like the stench of secondhand smoke from his co-workers. As he reentered the glass doors of ABM Online, the laughter and grievances shared over General Tso’s chicken echoed in his head.

He summarized the lunchtime gathering with a mental nod: camaraderie steeped in shared suffering. But now, back to work.

He glanced at the clock on the wall above the bullpen: 12:56 PM. Right on time. Vincent slid into his office chair and powered his dialer dashboard to life. The hum of the floor—sales chatter, keystrokes, clinking coffee cups—set a familiar stage.

At exactly 1:00 PM, Randall Darwin knocked twice on the doorframe.

“Hey, buddy, come on in. I’m almost ready for you,” Vincent said, eyes on his screen.

“Sounds good.” Randall entered and took a seat.

Vincent was always multi-tasking whether juggling dialer movement, sending e-mails, researching sales disputes in house and out or listening to his employees vent; he somehow managed to do it all. Most people tell you that multi-tasking is ineffective, but Vincent tries dutifully to defy the odds here.

One of his favorite things to do, despite the fact it often put him in a foul mood, was listen to calls and diagnose reps and managers. This was his forte: he could showcase his skills and knowledge on the art of the sale for reps and managers alike like no one else.

The biggest frustration of monitoring is that no matter whom you listen to, how many times you have coached or corrected someone or what you think you are going to hear, you are unpleasantly surprised 99% of the time. Good sales calls are an endangered species. The factors that led to their status on the endangered list were often fatigue and gradual decay but what Vincent found so maddening was that even when golden opportunities were handed over on a platter for his reps to dine, they would typically fumble and make a mess of things.

Dickhauser had a general disdain for Randall, always talking about him behind closed doors as lazy and describing him as a “drive-by manager”, meaning he would just walk around and poke his head in but never roll up his sleeves and do the work. Keith would chide Randall for being full of nothing more than “chin boogie” – saying he would make the necessary changes and paying lip service to them for a few days until he relapsed into his old fly-by management ways that did not work.

Dickhauser wanted to find a way to get rid of Randall, but this was complicated by his recent surge in results working for Vincent.

Nevertheless, Keith had gone so far as to instruct Vincent to remove any positive remarks from appraisals and performance plans for managers like Randall, George Flaker and Steve Zimmerman, whom he desperately wanted to expunge from the business.

This was par for the course: Dickhauser would regularly order documentation or appraisals to be doctored to his liking so he could try to fire people.

Vincent, however, had struck a chord with Randall early by showing him that he meant what he said: he was dedicated to his success. Vincent committed to pulling Randall’s team out of the gutter with him and had stuck to his word, gaining Darwin’s deep respect.

Randall did relapse to habits Vincent did not like, but not out of malice, and Vincent actually wanted to continue working with him to continue the positive trajectory rather than dismissing him as quickly as Dickhauser did.

After listening to calls with most managers, particularly Randall who was relatively new at actually being coached, Vincent opened it up to his managers. “So – pretend I’m Aaron and I’m sitting right across from you. How do you critique the call we just listened to?” Vincent asked.

“Well, uh…” Randall muttered, looking at his notes. “First off, he didn’t say the call was recorded.”

“Okay, but that’s small potatoes,” Vincent said. “It matters, but get to the meat.”

“Oh—okay—,” Randall managed, looking again at his notes. “There wasn’t enough value pitched. He needs to do a better job of pitching value.”

“Good, but be specific, not general, about what you expect,” Vincent coached.

“Okay…well…he talked about our search package but he never really recommended it.”

“Randall, here’s the thing. You’re right. Yes, he failed to mention the call was recorded. Yes, you hit the nail on the head, he pitched no value. But the trick here is you have to get that across to him in a way he is going to understand it and is going to fix it walking away from your coaching session.”

Vincent was always careful to point out something the manager did effectively and then move in to the real techniques and methods he wanted instilled in them.

“You are glossing over the surface of your diagnosis,” Vincent continued. “Yes, you are pointing out something true about the call, but you are not hitting them between the eyes with the real problem and then showing – not telling – them how you expect it to be done. You have to sell them on why they have to do it your way. Go get him.”

“What – Aaron? Right now?” Randall asked.

“Yes.”

Randall exited to retrieve Aaron Jameson, a linebacker-sized rep who was actually pretty timid in person and on the phone. The kid had never really amounted to anything and was three months away from a retention decision in the current job.

“Aaron, how are you?” Vincent asked, standing to shake his hand.

“I’m okay, how are you?” Aaron asked.

When reps entered Vincent’s office they initially showed signs of nervousness. Vincent knew how to immediately put them at ease.

“Aaron, the fact that you’re here is actually an honor for all of us. It means I care enough about your well-being and your future to take time out of my day to make you better. Have a seat,” Vincent said, outstretching his arm to signal to an empty chair.

Aaron sat and Randall sat next to him, both across the desk from Vincent.

“Aaron, Randall and I listened to a call you made not long ago to Minor Construction. You spoke to Julius. Remember the call?”

“Yes,” he replied.

“Randall, you want to lead us off?” Vincent prodded.

“Sure,” Randall acknowledged, hesitantly. “Aaron, we’ve talked in the past about your value presentation. You are talking about our products and you do a good job offering our full suite but you are not proving enough value to the customer. You need to do a better job of making sure the customer understands how this is going to work for him.”

“Okay,” Aaron said.

Randall was spouting generalities. Aaron was not being reached. It was about time for the doctor to operate. Vincent had to model the behavior he expected from Randall and all his managers.

“You did a good job of fact-finding and finding out about the business,” Randall proceeded. “You talked to him about our directory, the online portion and our search package. But you did not show the customer how this was going to benefit him.”

“Well, I talked about the searches we provide and where he would be placed,” Aaron stated, still not fazed by this session.

“Yes, but the customer does not deal in our products every day. You want to make sure you do a better job of articulating exactly what comes with our program. In addition, you did not announce the call is recorded. And when the customer said he needed to go, you went in to schedule a callback.”

“Yeah, I probably should have pushed him a little harder there at the end. I just didn’t want to piss him off.”

“Sure, I hear you. But you should at least overcome his objection a couple of times. Okay?”

“Yes,” Aaron said.

Randall, unsure of what to do next, asked, “Vincent, did you have anything to add?”

“Absolutely. You know me,” he responded, moving his feet from his desk to the floor and sitting up in his chair. “Aaron, here’s the deal. You’re a smart kid. As Randall pointed out, you did an admirable job of fact-finding. But here’s the way I want you to approach this: your call is a puzzle. You put a few pieces in, but without all of it, it’s incomplete. Period. Randall mentioned you did not point out value. What is this customer’s weakness? Why does he need your service?”

There was silence before Aaron answered, “I—I don’t know.”

“Exactly,” Vincent continued. “You went in and you talked about everything we have to offer, which I am proud of. Awesome job talking about benefits of our programs. You know your stuff. But you did not diagnose this customer’s weakness nor did you show him why he absolutely must get our package. How does he market his business right now?”

“He said he did fliers and newspaper.”

“Right. So the most important thing for you to do is pounce on everything you learn and drop little bombs the whole way that show he is missing out on something great. ‘Mr. Customer, right now you are advertising in fliers and newspaper. It’s great that you are actively marketing your business. How are they working for you?’ Get the answer to that because you’ll need it later. Even if it does work for him, it still can be used to your advantage. ‘Julius, here’s the thing: you are kind of throwing your name out there like bait hoping that someone will come along and bite. We put you where people are actively looking.’ What is this guy’s average sale worth, Aaron?”

“He said it could be thousands of dollars.”

“Yeah, so making back his investment is a no-brainer. What did you pitch him per month?”

“Eight hundred dollars.”

“Okay. Kudos for starting relatively big. However, you spent far too much time just giving him a book report on how our products work. He doesn’t care. This guy cares about one thing: making a return on his investment. Your pitch should be short and sweet. ‘Julius, to give you the best probability at return on investment, I’m going to put you everywhere we have potential customers looking. You will appear in the 700,000 bound directories we publish in your area, online on our site and our sister sites and you will also get one hundred searches from the major engines per month. With all that, you need just one customer per month to make a profit. Make sense?’ Then gauge where his head’s at and zero in. Does that make sense, Aaron?”

“Yeah, yeah, it does,” Aaron said, starting to become engrossed in the session.

“Aaron, what I just described is not a major change for you. It is a minor tweak. Do you see that?”

“Yes, I do, boss.”

“The bottom line, Aaron, is you are spinning your wheels and wearing yourself out doing the same stuff that flat out isn’t working all day long. You know the difference between you and Kyle Carver?” Vincent asked, referencing the top rep on the floor. “He closes forty sales per month and you probably get five to ten. Both of you make thousands of calls. Do you understand that the margin of difference between those two close rates is minuscule? That it’s just something minor separating the two of you? And this is it. You’ve got to hit the customer with facts that are directly pertinent to his business. Make him feel like his methods are inadequate. Don’t insult, but show him why his method is weak and yours is strong. Make it make sense. Make it a no-brainer. Make sense?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Aaron said, still gaining excitement.

“Good. The other thing is you may go out there and hammer out calls the rest of the day and try what we just talked about. Even if it doesn’t go as planned on the first ten, twenty or even one hundred calls, it doesn’t matter. If you do the right thing every time out, the law of averages dictates that you will come out victorious in the end. Whatever you do, resist the urge to go back to comfortable ways of mediocrity or failing. Can you do that for me?”

“Yes, I can do it. Thanks so much,” Aaron said.

“What do you want out of life, Aaron?” Vincent asked him.

“I just want to find something to do that makes me happy. I want to make money. I help support my Mom right now and so I just need to make as much money as I can.”

“I don’t want you to focus on where you stand on the sales report or how much revenue you have on the board at any given moment. I know it sounds crazy, but don’t think about that,” Vincent directed. “I want you to look back on every call and be able to tell me the specific reason that customer didn’t believe your program would work for him. If you do that – if you know the answer to that question on every call – you will be a star. I promise.”

Aaron nodded.

“Anything else you need from us, Aaron?” Vincent asked.

“No, I’m ready to get back out there and do it.”

“I know you are. Randall – anything else?”

“Aaron, Vincent and I believe in you and know you can do this. Make us proud!”

“Will do. Thanks, guys,” Aaron said before dismissing himself and closing the door behind him.

“What do you think?” Vincent asked Randall.

“I think he could just be so good if he applied himself.”

“Something I want you to pay attention to, Randall, is that you told him at the start of the session that you guys have talked before about pitching value. You’ve got to ask him how he would diagnose himself. You’ve got to ask him how he has been progressing with the things you guys are working on. You want to have a steady progression, always have an improvement plan in place and a goal you are trending towards and working on. Do you know what the biggest thing I found out about this kid was?”

“What’s that?”

“He is helping support his Mom. I found his motivation. You’ve got to find everyone’s motivation and use it to your mutual advantage. Help them achieve their goals and you achieve yours. I gave him all the tools in the world. I spoke in his language. I got through to him and he is going to walk out of here and try something new. But follow up is the key for you. And it is important that you give everybody on your team a daily touch of some sort with whatever you are working on with them. With Aaron, it needs to be logging his pitches and keeping track of why the customer did not believe it would work. Remember: work smarter, not necessarily harder, Randy. Make him jot these things down and touch base with him a couple times a day to see what he’s got. It takes little effort on your part but it is you affecting process. I can’t tell you how important that is. It’s your job as a manager to have an effect and an impact on every call this kid makes going forward. You could sit there on a call with him and impact one call. Or you can put process checkers like this in place that impact every call he makes until the end of time. Which do you think is better?”

“This. Definitely. I see what you’re saying,” Randall acknowledged.

“Good. I know you do. I don’t want you putting your effort in the wrong areas. I want you figuring out what makes these guys tick and what makes them fall. Then give them each a little check and balance method to keep their falling in check. Then touch base with them regularly. Listen to calls with them. Chart a course for them and work towards it. Give them the benefit of the doubt with exercises like this until they show they don’t deserve your trust. You can’t expect them to wake up a superstar overnight but you can chart the course and steadily make strides towards it. Make every goal seem attainable, even for yourself. Got it?”

“I do, Vince. Man, I will follow you anywhere.” Randall stood up and the two did a semi-embrace and shook hands. “Thanks, Vincent. You make me feel like I can do this.”

“You can, Randy. We’re going to get there. I told you that Day 1 and I stick by it now.”

“Thanks, brother,” Randall said.

He dismissed himself. Vincent sat down, felt good again and re-immersed himself in the e-mails, the dialer functions and the rigmarole. And his day was more complete: he had impacted these two like no one ever had.

He instilled the sense of belief in them with direct marching orders pertaining to tweaks and developments they needed to make in themselves, all while making them sound so attainable.