Carson V. Heady's Blog, page 6

What to Do After You Miss Quota (And Why It Might Be the Best Thing That Ever Happened to You)

Everyone celebrates the win. But if you’re in sales long enough, the real story—the one that shapes you—is what you do after you miss.

Sales is the ultimate meritocracy. You’re only as good as your last number. But sometimes—despite working hard, doing the right things, and showing up every day—you still fall short.

You question your talent.

You wonder what leadership thinks.

You think about all the people who did hit.

You overanalyze every lost deal.

And maybe, just maybe, you start thinking it’s time to move on.

But let me offer another perspective. Here’s what I’ve learned about bouncing back—and winning bigger than ever:

1. Reflect. But Don’t Dwell.

When you miss goal, you’re handed a gift: clarity.

Look in the mirror—not to beat yourself up, but to learn.

What could I have done differently that was within my control?

Did I prospect enough—in the right places?

Did I tailor my message or fall back on lazy pitches?

Was I listening more than I talked?

Sales is probability. You can’t guarantee success. But you can raise your odds. And that starts with honest diagnosis.

2. Tweak the Process, Not Your Identity.

Missing quota doesn’t mean you’re not great. It means your process needs work.

Think about a golfer adjusting their swing. A tiny tweak—almost invisible to the eye—can change everything.

That’s what sales is.

Don’t focus on the scoreboard. Focus on the reps. The habits. The tempo. The message. The intention.

3. Execute Like Your Career Depends on It.

You’ve diagnosed. You’ve adjusted.

Now? Go all in.

This is where most people fail.

They try the new process once or twice… it feels weird… and they retreat to old habits.

But old habits got you here. They won’t get you to quota.

When I was nearly run out of my first AE role at Microsoft, I didn’t abandon what made me different—I doubled down.

I built my brand. I studied my clients. I followed up relentlessly.

I didn’t get better because I hoped I would. I got better because I had no other choice.

4. Own It. Track It. Hold Yourself Accountable.

Don’t just measure results. Measure behavior.

Did I do what I said I would do today?

Did I push myself outside my comfort zone?

Did I follow up the 4th or 5th time when others stopped at 2?

Did I study the customer’s mission like my job depended on it?

There’s no scoreboard for effort. But your future self is watching.

5. Steal Shamelessly from the Best.

You don’t have to reinvent the wheel.

Ask your peers what’s working. Get curious. Set your pride aside. Learn how THEY’re winning.

Then take what works—and add your spin.

Missing goal is painful. But it’s also powerful. It forces you to evolve, adapt, and get gritty again.

#SalesLeadership #Resilience #Quota #MindsetMatters #B2BSales #SalesStrategy #CareerGrowth #Motivation #LinkedInForSales

Making Amends: The Courage to Reconnect with Others—and Ourselves

Making amends reestablishes our humanity and our credibility

In the grand orchestra of teamwork, connection is everything. But what happens when we hit a sour note? When a conversation goes sideways, a colleague feels unseen, or we let emotion override empathy?

In episode 69 of the Connected Teamwork Podcast, Hylke Faber of Growth Leaders Network and I explored the practice that might be the most vulnerable of all—and yet, the most transformative:

Making amends promptly… and doing it for integrity.

This isn’t about empty apologies or checking a box. It’s about rebuilding trust. Reconnecting. Owning the ripple effects of our words and actions—and choosing to show up differently next time.

What Does It Really Mean to Make Amends?

“Nobody has to tell me when I wasn’t at my best. I know.” — Hylke Faber

We’ve all felt that tug in our gut—the one that whispers: “That wasn’t it.” Maybe we interrupted someone. Maybe we reacted defensively. Maybe we made a decision in isolation and only later saw the cost to others.

The truth? Our behaviors and emotions impact people. Even when unintended.

So making amends begins long before we utter the words “I’m sorry.” It begins with deep honesty and deep kindness—with ourselves and with others. We make amends not to earn approval, but because we know it’s the right thing to do.

“A true amend is a gift. It’s not a transaction.” — Carson Heady

The Crocodile in the Room: Ego, Avoidance, and the False Apology

Hylke put it bluntly: our “crocodilian mind”—that primal ego—often tries to wriggle out of accountability.

“Maybe I can get away with it. Maybe they didn’t notice. Maybe I don’t have to say anything.”

Or worse, it weaponizes apologies.

“I’m sorry, but…” isn’t an amend. It’s a justification. “I’m sorry I can’t make it” when we’re already bailing? That’s not accountability. That’s an excuse in disguise.

We’ve all been there. And yet, when we confront our ego and choose accountability, the effect is powerful.

“When I make amends, people tend to come closer to me. That sincerity is disarming. It creates safety.” — Hylke Faber

The 4-Part Practice of a True AmendOwn what you did. Name it clearly. No spin.Acknowledge the impact. Don’t assume. Ask.Offer reparations. This isn’t about punishment. It’s about restoring balance.Follow through. Words without action are hollow. Show up differently next time. And if appropriate, check in again. When We’re Lost in Our Own World

“Most amends I’ve had to make come from being trapped in my own perspective. My own stress. My own ego.” — Carson Heady

Sometimes it’s not malice that hurts others—it’s rigidity. Or self-doubt. Or the blinders that come from being overwhelmed.

Carson reflected on a time when career turbulence triggered intense emotion. Disappointed by those he thought would rally behind him, he lashed out, closed off, and disconnected. It wasn’t until later—older, wiser, and more grounded—that he could make authentic amends:

“I was so consumed by my own experience, I didn’t stop to see yours. I’m sorry.”

It wasn’t easy. But it was real. And it helped rebuild trust that politics had nearly destroyed.

Progress Over Perfection

“I wake up knowing I’m going to make mistakes today.” — Hylke Faber

None of us are perfect. And our amends aren’t meant to be either.

The goal isn’t to never mess up—it’s to repair. Reconnect. Grow.

Sometimes the first amend is to ourselves:

For judging too harshly.For shrinking in the face of fear.For overworking or hiding our light.For forgetting our own values.

Reparation might look like setting a boundary. Or asking for help. Or choosing kindness over self-criticism.

“The amend is often not a grand gesture—it’s the next micro-step to break the pattern.”

When You’re Not Ready

Let’s be honest: some amends feel too raw, too scary, or too hard. That’s okay.

“Put it on the ‘maybe’ list. You don’t have to force it. But don’t forget it either.” — Hylke Faber

Carson offered this challenge:

“Don’t pressure yourself to rush. But ask: where am I showing up in a way that’s blocking connection? What’s one relationship I want to improve? Start there.”

Because when we drop the armor and lead with humility, the change is contagious. We become more centered. More compassionate. More trusted. More human.

“There’s no better way to connect than to be your authentic self. And there’s no bigger vulnerability than admitting when you’re wrong.” — Carson Heady

Final Reflection

Take a moment. Think of someone you need to make amends to. Maybe it’s a colleague. A family member. Yourself.

What would it feel like to own your part? To ask how your actions impacted them? To offer something in return—not as penance, but as an act of balance?

And if you’re not ready yet—that’s okay.

“A true amend isn’t pressure. It’s a gift. When you’re ready, give it.”

Listen to Episode 69 of the Connected Teamwork Podcast to hear the full conversation with Hylke Faber and Carson Heady.

Connect with Growth Leaders Network on LinkedIn for more on how to build deeper, more meaningful team connections.

Because the more honest we are with each other—and ourselves—the more connected we become.

#Leadership #EmotionalIntelligence #SelfAwareness #Teamwork #Vulnerability #AuthenticLeadership #ConnectedTeams #PersonalGrowth #PsychologicalSafety

Layoffs, Loneliness, and the Leadership Crisis: Why People Need You Now

Not long ago, I stood in a room full of rising professionals. We weren’t talking about quarterly results or performance reviews. We were talking about fear. Fear of losing your job. Fear of being left behind in the AI wave. Fear of not being seen.

And I said something I’ve come to believe with every fiber of my being:

“You don’t need to be the smartest person in the room. You need to be the most human.”

This moment — this era — is defining.

We are living in a time of massive uncertainty. Layoffs are announced in headlines like stock tickers. AI is simultaneously inspiring and threatening. Teams are remote, relationships are stretched, and trust in institutions is at an all-time low. Yet amid all of it, the true crisis is quieter, harder to detect, but far more dangerous:

A crisis of leadership.

A crisis of connection.

A crisis of empathy.

Because when things get hard, too many leaders go silent.

When people are struggling, too many peers look away.

And when layoffs come — when the e-mail hits, when the team meeting turns awkward, when your friend is suddenly gone — we whisper condolences online instead of picking up the phone.

The AI Illusion — and What It Can’t Replace

I’ve had the privilege of seeing AI revolutionize how we work. I’ve used it to scale outreach, optimize my time, and amplify my impact. It’s incredible. And yet…

I’ve never had an AI tool hold space for someone in pain. I’ve never seen an automation truly reassure a team member afraid of losing their job. And no LLM is going to look a struggling friend in the eyes and say, “You are more than your role.”

“Use technology to scale. But personalize the message.” That’s one of my personal mantras — because what scales today doesn’t stick unless it connects.

Loneliness in the New World of Work

It’s never been easier to be alone in a crowd. We have meetings stacked on top of meetings, yet people log off feeling unseen. I once coached a rep who told me they had no idea if anyone on their team even knew what they were working on. That same month, their team celebrated record-breaking results — but that rep left the company weeks later.

Not because of money. Not because of performance. Because they felt invisible.

And it hit me: You can be doing the job of your life, hitting numbers, leading workshops, showing up on the scoreboard… and still feel utterly alone.

The Leadership Vacuum — and the Opportunity

Here’s the truth that nobody wants to say out loud: A lot of people in leadership roles today are afraid. They’re afraid to say the wrong thing. Afraid to not have the answers. Afraid that vulnerability = weakness.

But the world has changed. Employees today aren’t looking for perfection. They’re looking for presence. For realness. For someone to say:

“I see you. I’ve been there. And I’m not going anywhere.”

Leadership isn’t a podium. It’s not a PowerPoint. Leadership is showing up for the one person who feels forgotten.

What People Actually Remember About You

Nobody will remember how many decks you built.

Nobody will talk about how efficient your e-mails were.

They’ll remember the day you reached out after the layoff.

They’ll remember the call when you asked how they were doing, not what they were doing.

They’ll remember the moment you advocated for them in the room they weren’t in.

“If everyone around you wins, you win.” I’ve said this time and again, because impact is not just vertical — it’s lateral. You rise by lifting others. Period.

So… What Can You Do?

You don’t need to fix everything. But you do need to show up. Here are a few ways I try to lead in a more human way:

Reach out before the layoff — Don’t wait until someone’s name disappears from the org chart. Be the person who checks in before it’s too late.

Say their name in rooms they’re not in — Advocate. Sponsor. Elevate.

Hold space — Don’t just offer solutions. Sometimes the most powerful thing you can do is listen.

Celebrate the unseen — From your top performers to your quiet contributors, recognize effort, not just outcomes.

Be consistent — Emotional safety isn’t built in heroic moments. It’s built in the small, repeated acts of consistency over time.

Who Needs You Now?

There is someone right now — on your team, in your network, in your life — who’s hanging by a thread. They’re watching layoffs hit their friends. They’re questioning their worth. They’re wondering if they matter.

They don’t need a motivational quote. They don’t need AI to automate their calendar. They need you.

So be the person who sends the text. Who makes the intro. Who says, “I’ve got you.”

Because when the dust settles, and the tech evolves, and the economy stabilizes… What will define this era isn’t who adapted to AI the fastest.

It’s who showed up for others when it was hardest.

The World Doesn’t Need More Superstars. It Needs More Superhumans.

If you’re reading this, I hope you remember: Your presence is your power. Your empathy is your edge. And your ability to see people — really see them — might just be the most valuable skill of this entire era.

Let me know:

Who are you showing up for right now? Who did you check in on today? Tag them. Call them. Thank them.

And if this article resonated, please share it. The world needs more reminders that the most human among us are the most irreplaceable.

#LeadershipMatters #FutureOfWork #EmotionalIntelligence #EmpathyInAction #HumanFirst #AIVsHumanity #CareerResilience #LayoffSupport #ConnectionOverEverything

You’re Not Doing What You Thought You’d Be Doing (And Why That’s More Than OK)

Most people I know—talented, driven, successful people—are not doing exactly what they thought they’d be doing in their lives or careers.

Not even close.

They’re not living out some neatly-mapped 5-year plan. They didn’t follow the blueprint they laid out in college. They aren’t sitting in the dream job they once obsessed over. In fact, many of them have pivoted so many times, they’ve lost track of which version of the plan they’re even on.

And yet…

They’re making an impact. They’re showing up. They’re evolving. And some of them are more fulfilled than they’ve ever been—not because things went according to plan, but because they let go of the plan long enough to start living with purpose.

That’s the unlock. And it changes everything.

We live in a world that sells us the myth of perfect alignment. That if you’re not fully living your passion every minute of every day, you’re somehow failing. That your LinkedIn headline should exactly match your soul’s calling. That the job title should reflect your entire identity. That fulfillment comes from getting everything right.

But I’ve found the opposite to be true.

Some of the most fulfilled, impactful people I know are those who’ve learned to infuse meaning into whatever they’re doing—regardless of whether the job description reads like a dream. They’ve discovered how to inject their unique gifts, strengths, and passions into roles that, on paper, might look like a detour.

Because when you start seeing your work as a canvas, not a cage, that’s when things really start to shift.

The truth is, our paths rarely unfold in a straight line. Life isn’t a staircase—it’s a jungle gym. It’s messy. It’s unpredictable. And sometimes, it throws you into places you never thought you’d be.

You might be in a job that pays the bills but doesn’t light your soul on fire. You might be sitting in meetings wondering, How did I end up here? You might be doing great work while still secretly nursing the feeling that you’re meant for something more.

And that’s not a reason to check out.

That’s your invitation to show up differently.

Instead of waiting for the perfect role to appear, what if you started crafting it right where you are?

What if you brought your storytelling skills into your sales role, your love for mentoring into your engineering job, your creative fire into that “boring” analytics position?

What if you made your current work the training ground for your future mission?

Because here’s the truth: You are not stuck. You are strategically placed.

And the way you show up now? That determines where you go next.

Let’s go even deeper.

What if the disconnect you feel isn’t a sign you’re lost—but a sign you’re waking up?

That gnawing sense of misalignment? That restlessness? That tug to do more, be more, give more?

That’s not something to silence. That’s something to listen to.

But don’t wait for a lightning bolt of clarity or the perfect job posting to start acting on it. Start weaving those passions into the work you already do. Start leading with the values that matter most to you. Start building a personal brand and presence that reflects the entire you, not just your current role.

Because when you start showing up with authenticity, alignment begins to follow.

Not overnight. But it comes.

This isn’t just philosophy—it’s personal.

I didn’t grow up dreaming of becoming a sales leader or writing books or co-hosting a podcast. That wasn’t in the plan.

But the deeper I got into my career, the more I realized something: What I do is less important than how I do it. And what started as a job turned into a calling when I stopped waiting for perfect alignment and started infusing passion, purpose, and heart into everything I touched.

I started helping others rise. I started writing down what I was learning. I started building a brand around the values that mattered most to me—faith, resilience, authenticity, and the relentless pursuit of impact.

And everything changed.

So here’s what I want to tell you:

If you’re not where you thought you’d be, you’re not alone. If your dream job still feels far away, you’re not behind. And if you’re still figuring it out, you’re not broken—you’re becoming.

In fact, you’re probably closer to your purpose than you realize. Because purpose isn’t a destination. It’s a direction. And it reveals itself in the trenches—not the mountaintop.

So stop waiting.

Stop searching for the perfect role to bring your whole self. Bring your whole self now. Bring your story. Your scars. Your creativity. Your fire. Your faith. Bring your unique superpowers to the table—every single day—and use them to elevate the people around you.

Because when you operate like that? Something wild happens.

The more you connect meaningfully… The more you keep learning… The more you infuse passion into the present moment… The more you give yourself away in service of others…

…the more things start to fall into place.

And maybe one day, you’ll look around and realize you didn’t just find your dream job.

You built it.

Right in the middle of the life you never planned—but fully chose.

Keep showing up. Keep becoming. Keep lighting the way.

#Purpose #CareerGrowth #Leadership #Authenticity #FaithInTheProcess #Reinvention #PersonalDevelopment #Motivation #Sales #GrowthMindset

Set the Table Before You Feast: The Hidden Work That Creates Champions

Everyone wants to talk about the win. They want to analyze the deal when it’s closed, the quarter when you crushed your number, or the moment you were handed the award. We glamorize the spotlight. We celebrate the feast.

But very few are willing to talk about the hours you spent setting the table.

I’ve spent nearly two decades in sales and leadership. I’ve won. I’ve lost. I’ve been at the top. I’ve been knocked down. And through all of it—through every pivot, promotion, reorg, territory swap, and blindside—I’ve come to understand something that’s rarely said out loud:

The most important work we do is the work nobody sees.

It’s the prep. The early mornings. The quiet nights. The emails that never get answered. The calls that go nowhere. The research. The rehearsal. The rewrites. It’s the landing before the leap.

That’s what sets the foundation for the win.

But it’s not flashy. It’s not a trending topic. Nobody’s handing out trophies for preparation. There’s no award for obsessively studying your customer’s 10-K or following every exec on LinkedIn or anticipating every single objection. But I can tell you this—those habits? They win.

Over the years, I’ve watched countless people self-sabotage because they wanted the reward before the ritual. They thought if they showed up to the meeting with confidence, that would be enough. They thought the relationships would build themselves. They thought charisma would close the deal.

But preparation always shows itself. It shows up in how you answer questions, in the references you make, in the trust you build without even trying. It shows up when your customer says, “You really understand us,” because you actually did the work to understand them.

Preparation isn’t a moment. It’s a mindset. It’s how you wire yourself to control the controllables—because so much of this journey is uncontrollable.

I’ve had a front-row seat to unfairness.

Jobs created for me that were handed to someone else. Roles promised and pulled. Customers I nurtured and grew suddenly reassigned to balance the business. High-performing sellers pulled off my team. I’ve been laid off. Twice. I’ve won awards and had my role eliminated just weeks later.

You can do everything right and still lose the round. That’s the reality. And it hurts—because you care. But caring is your superpower. Let it sting. And then let it sharpen you.

Because the ones who endure—the ones who go from setback to success—are the ones who treat every disruption not as a dismissal, but as a new deal to close. They pause. Take a breath. Look around at the new environment. Ask the right questions:

What’s the playing field now? What does it take to win here? What levers can I pull? What strengths can I double down on?

That’s the difference. Not giving up. Not staying bitter. Not replaying the loss a thousand times. But shifting gears, recalculating, and stepping forward with intention.

Sometimes, the difference between the ones who make it and the ones who don’t has nothing to do with talent or intelligence. Sometimes it comes down to how resourceful someone is when everything changes. It comes down to how willing they are to sit with discomfort. To own their mistakes. To adapt their approach. To stay humble enough to ask for help and hungry enough to implement it.

At this point in my life and career, I don’t chase titles. I don’t obsess over visibility. I chase growth. I chase relationships that make me better. I chase challenges that force me to evolve. Because those things make me more effective for my customers, for my team, and for my family.

If you want to win, start by asking yourself: Who or what do I need in order to actually get better?

Do I need a mentor who will call me out? Do I need to spend more time studying my accounts? Do I need to build a better system for follow-up? Do I need to become more coachable? More curious? More disciplined?

Find the answer. And then go all in.

Invest in the people around you. Help them win. Because the more you pour into others, the more you learn. The more you learn, the more you grow. And the more you grow, the more you can withstand the inevitable chaos that comes with chasing anything meaningful.

It’s normal to feel thrown off by change. It’s human to be disappointed when something doesn’t go the way you planned. But if you’re still in the game—if you’re still being dealt hands—then you’re still in control of how you respond.

And how you respond is everything.

The journey isn’t linear. It’s not supposed to be. And sometimes, your biggest step forward comes disguised as a step back. But every time I’ve dusted myself off, turned to face the new challenge, and asked, “What’s next?”—I’ve found a new path to impact. A new play to run. A new win to chase.

That’s what it means to set the table. It’s not just about preparing for one meal. It’s about becoming the kind of person who can build a feast from scratch, again and again—no matter how many times the menu changes.

You don’t need a map. You don’t need a miracle.

You need a mindset. You need a system. You need to keep showing up.

You know what you need to do.

Do it.

#MindsetMatters #SalesLeadership #CareerResilience #GrowthMindset #ControlTheControllables #Unbeatable #SalesTips #PreparationWins #TheShowMustGoOn

Laid Off? Here’s EXACTLY What to Do Next to Future-Proof Your Career and Become Unstoppable

There’s no sugarcoating it.

Getting laid off is a gut punch. It leaves you questioning your value, your direction, and even your identity. The silence after that call or email feels deafening. You replay every meeting. Every performance review. Every conversation with your boss. And the big question sets in: Now what?

I’ve been there.

In 2010, I was laid off from a prominent leadership role at a big company. I thought—with my title, my resume, and a track record of results—I’d waltz right into a better gig. I was dead wrong. It took me over a year to get hired again—at half the salary. I applied to over 1,000 roles before someone gave me a shot.

But that year out of work was the most important of my life. It forced me to build muscle I didn’t even know I needed. It gave me the time to write my first book, to develop my voice, and to start building a brand instead of just a résumé. It taught me how to future-proof a career in an industry—and a world—that changes faster than we can keep up.

If you’re reading this, maybe you’ve just been laid off. Maybe you’re scared of what’s coming next. Maybe you just want to build a more bulletproof career. Let me share what I’ve learned—not from the mountaintop, but from the muddy, messy climb to get there.

First, Let’s Get Real: You’re Not Powerless

We don’t control layoffs. We don’t control market conditions. We don’t control the economic winds or corporate politics. But we control how we respond.

When the rug gets pulled out, you’ve got two options:

Wait for someone else to decide your worth.Reclaim your power and write the next chapter yourself.

Here’s what I chose. Here’s what I still choose every single day.

The Three Pillars of Career Reinvention

After two decades in sales and leadership, and after working with thousands of professionals globally, I’ve realized that the people who bounce back fastest from layoffs—and who build the most resilient careers—focus on three things:

1⃣ Relationships

I used to think my resume would open doors. What I learned? Your relationships open the door. Your reputation gets you in the room.

The best jobs I’ve ever landed weren’t because I had the most degrees, the perfect title, or a bulletproof resume. They came because someone knew me, trusted me, and advocated for me.

“Your network is your net worth.” And if you’re not nurturing it, you’re leaving opportunities on the table.

2⃣ Reputation

Your reputation is your brand in motion. It’s what people say about you when you’re not in the room. It’s built over years—but you can amplify it today.

Ask yourself:

Do people know what I stand for?Do they know the problems I solve?Would they recommend me, even if they can’t hire me?3⃣ Results

It’s not about what you’ve done. It’s about what you’ve proven you can do again.

When you’re between jobs, your results become your currency. Your stories. Your track record. Your customer wins. Your impact. That’s what gets people to say: “Wow—we need that here.”

What To Do If You Get Laid Off (Starting Today) Step 1: Feel It. Then Flip It.

Layoffs hurt. Let yourself feel that. Mourn the loss. But don’t unpack and live there.

Use that pain as fuel. Turn it into the project of a lifetime: rebuilding yourself stronger than before.

Step 2: Reframe the Job Search

Don’t just “apply to jobs.” That’s what everyone else is doing. And guess what? Everyone else is getting buried in a stack of 1,000 resumes.

Here’s what you do instead:

Research, Reverse-Engineer, and Reach OutFind companies you want to work for.Study the hiring managers. Look up their content, background, and team structure.Identify what problems they’re solving—or struggling with.Reach out for a conversation. Not to ask for a job. Ask for advice, insight, or feedback.

This is how you build champions who will remember you when an opportunity opens.

Tools That Future-Proof Your Career Create a “Career Walking Deck”

This is your secret weapon. It’s a story—not a résumé.

Mine includes:

Who I am (personal and professional)What I’ve accomplished (wins, metrics, impact)How I lead and solve problemsTestimonials and referencesMy 30/60/90 day plan for the role I’m targeting

I send this before every interview or informational. It gets me in the room before I ever open my mouth.

Here is a copy of mine you are free to leverage in crafting yours! https://www.linkedin.com/smart-links/AQH8hjerRKARzw

Maximize LinkedIn

If you’re invisible online, you’re invisible to opportunity.

Update your headline.

Optimize your “About” section using AI.

Share stories, wins, failures, and insights.

Post consistently. 3–5 times a week.

Celebrate others. Be human. Be visible.

You are a walking brand. Own it.

Leverage AI to Your Advantage

Use ChatGPT, Copilot, and other AI tools to:

Analyze job descriptions and customize your pitchCreate interview questions based on hiring manager profilesWrite content, bios, resumes, cover letters, and pitch decksTurn your stories into viral LinkedIn posts and blog articles

AI won’t replace you—but someone who uses it better than you will.

Tactical Moves to Stand Out in a Saturated Market

Position Yourself as a Problem Solver, Not a Pitch Ask hiring managers:

“What are your biggest challenges right now?”“What does a win look like for your team?”“What kind of person would make your job easier?”

Then—tell stories that show you are that person.

Send a 30/60/90 Day Plan Don’t wait to be asked. Write one. Send it before the interview. Make them see you in the role.

Record a Short Intro Video Introduce yourself, your unique value prop, and the impact you’ve created. Upload it to YouTube. Share the link in your outreach. Nobody else is doing this. Be the one who does.

Create Content Around Your Journey Document the comeback. Share what you’re learning. Share your wins and the rejections. People connect with vulnerability.

Build Your Personal Advisory Board

Who are the 5–10 people who:

Inspire youChallenge youSpeak truth into your careerCould one day hire or recommend you?

Reach out.

Set up virtual coffees.

Ask questions.

Add value.

Your future is a team sport. Draft your squad.

When in Doubt, Lean on the Greats

Here are a few books that helped me transform:

Stillness is the Key – Ryan Holiday

Leaders Eat Last – Simon Sinek

The Infinite Game – Simon Sinek

Outliers – Malcolm Gladwell

Hidden Potential – Adam Grant

Start with Why – Simon Sinek

…and of course, there are the inspirational words of the one and only Rocky Balboa. Because as the legend says:

“It ain’t about how hard you hit. It’s about how hard you can get hit and keep moving forward.”

Build a Career So Strong, You Don’t Have to Fear Disruption

Layoffs happen. Reorgs happen. Careers take wild turns. But here’s the truth I live by:

“The best time to build your brand and your relationships is BEFORE you need them.”

Be known for something. Be remembered for your story. Be respected for your consistency. And be unforgettable for your impact.

You’re not defined by your last job. You’re defined by what you choose to do next.

What You Can Do Right Now

Update your LinkedIn with a powerful, human story

Create and send a career walking deck

Reach out to 10 people for guidance—not a job

Build and post 2–3 LinkedIn posts this week

Use AI to optimize your profile, resume, and outreach

Draft a 30/60/90 day plan for your dream role

Record a short video intro and share it with connections

Join industry communities, Slack groups, and meetups

Start that podcast, blog, or newsletter you’ve been putting off

Create value. Share your knowledge. Stay top of mind.

You’ve been knocked down. Now it’s time to rise. Not with desperation. But with design. Not with panic. But with purpose.

This is your moment. And if you’re willing to do what most won’t—you’ll have a career most never will.

Now go take it.

#CareerGrowth #JobSearchTips #LayoffSupport #FutureOfWork #PersonalBranding #AIinCareers #NetworkingStrategies #ResilienceAtWork #CareerReinvention

Unbeatable: The Legend of Vincent Scott – Chapter 22: Summit

Vincent Scott entered July 2023 coming off another grueling fiscal year, this time at the helm of the HealthTech team after his longtime mentor and manager Janet Leary retired. He led the entire healthcare division in strategic deals and was in the top 5 in the organization in results.

The fiscal year turned, the landscape shifted, and the grind immediately resumed.

Territory realignments struck like lightning. Vincent lost his top two team members and several marquee accounts—his team was split and market gutted in favor of the new GM’s favorites. HealthTech was merged with the Pharma business and their leader, Bhavin Ramesh.

In their place, Vincent was handed a rag-tag startup portfolio, a loose collection of tech-centric customers and startups with minimal structure or strategy. There was no playbook, no partner in leadership, and no clear pathway to revenue. It was a vague territory with no real boundaries or anchor relationships.

Vincent wasn’t one to pout. He immediately set to work rebuilding.

His tenacious playbook was in full effect yet again; he ran a webinar that maxed out attendance at 1,000, for which he won an award, and could be attributed to influencing over $100M in pipeline for the company. Executives from all over the company praised him, from frontline managers to vice presidents.

But inside his own team, things felt different.

Despite the monumental impact, Vincent received silence from his own manager, Bhavin. No email. No call. No comment in the team chat. It was a chilling reminder that even a masterclass performance could go unacknowledged by those most expected to notice.

With Janet Leary gone and Bhavin Ramesh not paying attention, Vincent was ripe for the picking. When the leadership from the Majestech for Humanity organization reached out that supported many key industry verticals globally, and asked if Vincent would come on board to build a sales culture, it was enticing.

The team had not been around long and was not in the commercial business; they were not overly well known, but wanted to build their presence and reach. Vincent actually asked Janet her advice, and she told him to go for it: He would lead their commercial business in North America.

The team was mostly newer in career than Vincent’s prior Strategic Enterprise Commercial team, and they were almost devoid of processes for annuity business, outreach and pipeline generation. But Vincent’s experiences, his understanding of these aspiring account executives and his tireless efforts to create and implement processes where there were none ignited immediate excitement.

On paper, it looked like lower On-Target Earnings and the team structure was much different. Fewer resources; it would require Vincent to be scrappy, but that was not a deterrent. Bhavin scoffed at Vincent’s idea to go to Majestech for Humanity, saying they would get a steal with what Vincent was capable of, but what would Vincent get out of it?

Vincent weighed job responsibilities, career advancement, culture, work-life balance, and professional development. The answer became obvious: Majestech for Humanity was a lifeline. It was an opportunity to reboot, to be seen, to lead.

By September, he accepted the offer.

He didn’t coast during the transition. He finished out his healthcare obligations with fury. He pushed the medical device prospecting campaign into overdrive. He scheduled customer briefings, launched final marketing plays, and ensured all deals—including the massive CRM win with his health data company—would land in Q1.

And almost instantly, his instincts to join this team were validated.

His energy, creativity, and strategic acumen were welcomed. Admired. Revered. He launched a new webinar series in his first 30 days, driving 38 net-new opportunities and over $4 million in pipeline. He imported his “Plays That Get You Paid” methodology. He built a social selling grid with over 3,000 leads that multiplied quickly. He initiated customer conversations with Board and C-level executives in over 80 organizations that no one had ever cracked into within the early months.

He met the President of Majestech, presented to the CEO his strategies and results, and won awards.

For the first time in a long time, Vincent felt fulfilled again.

Amidst his upward career trajectory, there were family health challenges and the arrival of their newly born Cavalier King Charles Spaniel, Indiana. Come Thanksgiving, they adopted a black tuxedo cat named Trouble. There were ER visits, struggles, uncertainties and heavy reliance on faith.

While on the surface, he appeared to be riding a wave of professional success, the currents underneath were murky, and the undertow nearly drowned him.

He was a force of nature, executing polished prospecting at scale, using AI-aided methods to open doors across hundreds of executive conversations. But beneath the charisma and achievement was fatigue. Fatigue from over-functioning. Fatigue from home.

Still, Vincent persevered. He was over-functioning as a Super-AE to compensate for his team’s lack of experience creating massive deals as he worked with them to turn them from transactional to strategic. They loved it. The team responded, and Vincent brought in resources from elsewhere in Majestech; calling in favors to help with research or technical expertise or helping scope and structure what he was endeavoring to do. A decade of relationships and experience and wisdom was paying off in spades as Vincent orchestrated and strategized resourcefully.

It was a lot of work. Vincent kept pushing in all areas, from workouts to back-to-back days and trying to drive everything he could himself to will this team to the stratosphere: to new heights and levels. What he was doing had never been seen before. His team had 3X the pipeline of any other team. They were executing offers and booking 20, 30, 86 workshops in a single day for partner vendors. Every webinar Vincent marketed would book 100-300 people whereas webinars before his arrival booked 10-15.

His body, though, was starting to rebel. Knee pain. Elbow pain. Full-body exhaustion. The gym, once his sanctuary, became a battlefield. He felt like aging Jordan on the Wizards, pushing through pain and disillusionment to drag his team across the finish line.

The pressure never let up. Yet neither did Vincent.

He had his most successful financial year in Year One in Majestech for Humanity.

But he felt like a fading superstar. He still had the ability at the level of sleep-walking, but the engine was sputtering.

And still, he never stopped.

July brought illness. A nasty upper respiratory infection sidelined him for weeks. He lost 12 pounds.

During the summer, Vincent, Autumn and the girls went on a cruise and for 2 weeks in Florida.

In the quiet moments, Vincent found a flicker of peace. He realized what he was: a worker, a warrior, a man whose currency was effort, drive, and execution. Maybe not loved by all. Maybe not understood. But impactful and inspirational and influential everywhere he went.

In August, as he trained a team of rookies, he knew: “They aren’t sellers. I’m teaching them muscle they don’t yet have. It’s exhilarating. And it’s exhausting.”

He kept going. As always.

Because that’s what Vincent Scott did. Through fire. Through flood. Through fading and forging. Through the absolute chaos of being the indispensable man in everyone’s life but his own.

Vincent Scott stood at the apex of performance. In 2024, he had his 9th consecutive annual gym record, the best year of his career and he was steadily climbing. His ability to mindlessly drive endless impossible prospecting successes, turn every conversation and relationship strategic, unearth competitive wins and make success out of next-to-no resources with some creativity and a will-to-win was at its peak. It was effortless.

He had solidified his reputation as one of the most effective, relentless forces in the business. Requests came every week to present or coach or train or mentor somewhere else in the world.

But this wasn’t the story of a man coasting to accolades. This was a story of intensity, resilience, and the cost of carrying a mountain.

Vincent anchored the team—not just in delivery, but in vision. He ran training calls, delivered recognition ceremonies, mentored across the field, and inspired teammates to think bigger.

He knocked down barriers and siloes: teams within Majestech for Humanity that previously did not talk to or trust each other were now on weekly calls together, sharing with each other, being recognized and recognizing each other, and gelling.

Vincent was at the pulse of his team, modeling the new way of strategic sales as he helped his team build muscle, coaching, creating a destination team, and even out-pacing the Majestech commercial team in growth by 15%. It was unheard of and he was helping put Majestech for Humanity on the map. They knew it was the place where the Vincent Scott played.

Every city he visited, he was approached for selfies and book autographs.

Quotas were up. Expectations were higher. The challenge was steeper. But if there’s one thing Vincent Scott was built for, it was the relentless climb.

His last drink had been a Bloody Mary on a flight home from Arizona for work where he also got to visit his aunt on September 13, 2024, but it might as well have been a lifetime ago.

Vincent was starting to realize his craving of dopamine and winning in a world where these highs were getting tougher and tougher to come by.

At 46, Vincent was serious about finding peace and enjoying the blessings that his hard work had yielded: his dream girl, his girls, his dream car. The household was loud, chaotic, and rarely still—but it was his.

He found comfort in routines and consistency, and a gratitude journal.

He was a man at war with stagnation, clawing at growth in every domain—even when he felt hollow inside. He questioned whether he should move on, take his talents elsewhere, seek a new chapter. But something inside him whispered: Not yet.

Everyone asked him to write their messaging, design their plays, and blast their emails. He was doing three jobs, maybe four.

Even as burnout tugged at him, he knew he had more chapters to write before the curtain fell.

As 2025 began, he found himself staring into the abyss of a life that had once been ablaze with energy and direction, now dulled by burnout, confusion, and a body that felt as battered as his spirit.

Vincent had achieved everything he thought he wanted. His books had sold. His reputation as a sales influencer was unchallenged. He remained at the top of his game professionally and no one could see the cracks in his armor. His name was whispered in reverence by sales teams and tech leaders across the continent. And yet, in the deepest hours of the night, he found himself asking the unthinkable: Is this it?

Vincent’s journal read like the inner monologue of a man both battling and analyzing his own collapse. The 46-year old version of himself was a pale echo of the invincible 25-year-old who had once felt unstoppable. The dopamine, the chase, the rush of the deal, the intoxication of being the best as well as the countless beatdowns and abandonments and letdowns and unfair crucibles—it all came at a cost.

There was no running from the emotional wreckage.

From an outside view, Vincent Scott was still everywhere and everything; showing up and dominating. He booked meetings, built pipeline, spoke on massive stages, ran his demand generation engine for not only his own market but others.

But it felt robotic.

It was hard for him to separate himself as the machine or the man with the mask from himself. He had become so jaded by how others treated or used him that he couldn’t trust praise and doubted anyone genuinely liked or cared about him.

The rooms he was in started to blend together; he yearned for new challenges and experiences and recognition with the fear his best years may now be behind him.

What had he become? A sales mercenary, paid to do a job and grow a territory no matter what, on a hamster wheel that would never stop?

Did he still love the game?

He had shifted his addictions to healthy ones like reading and music, but with so much clarity, he had so much more time to face the reality: he had fought and given and clawed for so long. He had so much. But he felt a lot of emptiness.

Trusted contacts told Vincent they felt God was nudging them to tell him he was destined for more.

That his sales legacy was scratching the surface.

That he had only just begun.

And maybe they were right. Maybe the furnace of this moment—this searing crucible of pain, fatigue, and relentless personal reflection—was refining him into something stronger than before.

So he kept showing up.

To honor God. For his wife. For his kids. For his team.

For the man he wanted to become.

He was transitioning from hunter to sage. From dominator to guide.

Vincent didn’t know what was next. He just wanted to feel purpose and peace.

Maybe one more mission?

Vincent Scott didn’t enter the selling game with a silver spoon or a shortcut. He was the accidental salesman who clawed his way up from call centers and dead-end quotas, who mastered influence not from some manual but from losing, listening, and learning.

He redefined what it meant to be great in sales. He didn’t just hit quotas; he shattered them. He didn’t just lead teams; he ignited them. He didn’t just close deals; he built movements. From cold outreach mastery to the sophisticated orchestration of AI-enhanced prospecting engines, from authoring best-selling books to launching podcasts that inspired thousands, he was a builder. A multiplier.

And he did it all with pain in his joints and fire in his heart.

He did it after being passed over. After getting laid off. After being politically outmaneuvered, overlooked, and underestimated. He did it through the fog of burnout and the chaos of personal life.

Nothing could stop his relentless drive to matter. To prove the naysayers wrong. To positively impact others.

Through every storm, Vincent remained a master of momentum. When the future of sales looked uncertain, he embraced AI with open arms and adapted faster than anyone around him. When teams were fractured, he created systems. When morale was low, he built playbooks. When others rested, he refined his craft—reading, writing, prospecting, plotting, and pushing forward.

He was not always happy, but he was always faithful—to the mission, to the grind, and to the people.

Ask anyone who worked with him. They’ll tell you he was exhausting and electric. That he moved faster, expected more, and gave more. That he made them believe in possibility again. That he showed them what was possible when someone stopped caring what the world thought and simply decided to become undeniable.

He understood them. He was communicative and transparent and empowered them.

In the end, Vincent Scott didn’t just outlast others. He outloved them. He cared about the craft more. He cared about the people more. He cared about being excellent more.

And though the world may not always remember every sale or presentation or strategy, it will remember the fire. The man who turned his pain into purpose, his burnout into a blueprint and his struggle into service.

Vincent Scott didn’t just sell.

He transformed.

He left behind a trail of changed lives, empowered leaders, and a playbook that will echo long after his last email is sent or final deal closed.

Because legends don’t need a spotlight.

They become one.

Unbeatable: The Legend of Vincent Scott – Chapter 21: Muddling, But Moving

In the wake of his Elite Club triumph and elevation to Sr. Managing Director of the brand new HealthTech Solutions Group under Janet Leary, Vincent Scott should have been coasting on waves of euphoria.

He had finally seized the recognition he’d spent over a decade clawing toward—the title, the accolades, and a reputation as a sales juggernaut.

But the days and months that followed were anything but a victory lap.

Life came at him all at once—an avalanche of new responsibility, relentless change, and personal loss. The stress of the new house and the myriad repairs required on the prior house. Vincent hired his replacement, Audrey Teger, and she moved into managing his prior customers.

The new year brought a new frontier—a team of high-performing AEs, many with deeper tenure and stronger technical acumen than Vincent. He lobbied hard to Jarrett Danforth’s boss to realign Jarrett’s territory to match Vincent’s new one and won.

It was time to go to work. Vincent’s new team performed well the year prior, but nowhere near as well as Vincent did in the same AE role. He built his Moneyball grid and LinkedIn social selling strategy to complement their efforts, feed them high quality leads in bulk and then coached them how to build out strategic deals at scale.

There were some initial doubters, but not for long.

But success felt hollow. It came with no peace. Even his victories sparked discomfort.

He poured himself into workouts, completed podcasts, pushed through projects, and tried to keep his family afloat.

Vincent barely paused to grieve when his beloved grandmother passed in December. He wrote and delivered the eulogy, held it together for the family, and collapsed into his office afterward, bereft of energy. Then came the loss of the family dog.

Spring followed a winter of discontent, but with it came more work, more burnout, more leadership expectations. Vincent trained teams in Singapore, coached sellers globally, presented to rooms of executives, and helped the team navigate and drive deals that sent a record number of his team to President’s Club.

Each week became a dichotomy: dazzling webinars, impactful training, and accolades from colleagues… balanced against exhaustion, resentment, and an ever-present fear of obsolescence. He knew he could make a difference. But he no longer knew if it mattered.

Vincent buried his grief, his imposter syndrome, and his sense of isolation in service. He answered every call. He said yes to every opportunity. He built newsletters, drove 60 partner workshop bookings in 2 weeks, grew a library of training content, and won over skeptics. He turned down trips and accolades to be present for his family.

But the price was steep. He often felt like a ghost in his own life.

His soul was searching, endlessly. He had everything he had once wanted, yet he couldn’t remember how to feel joy.

His name was in the mouths of leaders worldwide. But he was spent.

Exhausted, unrecognized in many ways that mattered to him, caught in the paradox of being both indispensable and invisible.

He was no longer chasing external validation.

He was chasing peace.

One of Vincent’s new team members had a customer that was over-quotad by $8M and, even though they could show and prove it up the chain, they were told nothing could or would be done about it. The seller checked out for a couple of weeks. Vincent asked Janet what he should do, and she coached him to acknowledge that it was OK he was canceling their 1:1 calls together but he needed to find time to connect with Vincent and talk. They did, and Vincent pledged to do everything they could together to turn over every rock and go down swinging. Vincent committed that if the seller did this, he’d ensure he got paid like a champion no matter what.

Vincent had to cover rewards discussions for his old team. A bitter old team member let Vincent have it, saying Vincent lucked into a layup quota and parlayed it into Elite Club and a financial windfall. It was lost on the seller that Vincent actually turned his top 3 customers into 4 mega-deals, and actually won Elite Club because of his broad impact at Majestech and not just his 200% performance, but it was lost on the seller and the damage and shock of the insult stung Vincent for a while.

Vincent ran the account manager team, and one of their biggest beefs was that the specialist team who sold different solutions was spread thin and didn’t devote as much time to their customers as they would have liked. So Vincent went to the specialist teams himself, and created a program called “Plays that Get You Paid.” He asked them point blank, “If my team and I are going to dominate going out and earning conversations that lead to solution area purchases that max out your paycheck, what is your target ideal executive title and what conversations are most lucrative?”

They answered, and Vincent delivered. With his LinkedIn prospecting and mining all of their obscure tools for contacts that had opted in somewhere along the line to being contacted, Vincent delivered Glengarry leads to his sellers all day every day. Even Vincent’s top reps, who had covered some of the largest medical device and electronic medical record companies for nearly a decade, who initially thought they had plenty of contacts were blown away at the dozens of new executive relationships Vincent created at every single organization they supported.

Plays that Get You Paid drove endless, exorbitant pipeline and the high caliber team nurtured and closed it.

Vincent was driving hundreds of attendees to webinars and creating conversations with newsletters; the only knock his team had on him was that they were overwhelmed sometimes by the fact he’s on another level and communicated so much. Vincent scaled back from engaging them in a team chat every time he had a thought or best practice to a daily digest that was much more digestible.

Heading into 2022, Vincent’s notoriety continued to grow as he was asked to do global presentations, training, contribute to global training curriculums, and his energy for the monotony of it waned, causing him to throw himself more and more into workouts and any motivational or inspirational or thought-provoking book he could find.

After watching the Mark Wahlberg movie Invincible about Vince Papale of the Philadelphia Eagles, where he saves his wife’s note about how he’s worthless when she leaves him, Vincent found and re-read his appraisal from Quintana Navarro. He needed fuel anywhere he could find it: new challenges, new mountains to scale, new experiences and wins.

Vincent’s pastor delivered a sermon where he called this “muddling through” and that’s exactly how Vincent would describe the ups and downs of family, the dissipation of lifelong friendships and the daily demand of conjuring up freakish energy and drive only to be drained and depleted by every day’s end.

There was no rest nor restorative time. He took on too much and executed everything he could in pursuit of a happy family and hitting quota in a year it was statistically impossible and it felt like failure every single day.

43 years old, Vincent did not sleep overly well and pushed himself hard physically and mentally. He looked at his face in the mirror in the mornings and felt he looked haggard and unkempt; unshaven with dead eyes. He was in excellent physical shape but felt his prime was past.

Lots of customers would be unresponsive or ghost or allow momentum to die, but they were fever pitch when there was any billing or service issue. These started to become more rampant. And with large customers, they were high profile; they’d go to senior Majestech officers, and meant the heat would be on Vincent to reconcile them.

Janet Leary appropriately coached Vincent to think more broadly than his Super-AE approach of prospecting and creating relationships and conjuring up deals, and to create a super-team. To lead the division in strategic deals. It was just the motivation and North Star and new challenge he needed. She talked about him getting every single member of his team across the 100% threshold instead of worrying about his personal number. It annoyed him sometimes, but she was right.

He teamed up with a co-worker to develop a sales campaign to drive new applications licensing and it blew up; they won an award. for the ingenuity. Janet coached Vincent to ensure he could tangibly account for the impact of his work outside of their market, and he did: his engine was driving tens of millions of dollars in other markets thanks to his organization-wide training. Partners and vendors who held events that Vincent promoted loved him, because he wasn’t just seeking a win for himself and his team, but he was broadly promoting the events to customers and markets, and delivering huge wins to the partners.

And, in the final quarter, a multiplier incentive was created that allowed Vincent and his over-quotad colleague to achieve goal: Vincent made it across the line at 102%. He was interviewed on a podcast by a gentleman out of D.C. and heralded as the #1 social seller in all of technology. He trained thousands across the globe in 11 countries on how he prospected.   

The team landed a 9-figure win that sent several players to Club. But it wasn’t sunshine and rainbows, as the larger the deals, the more hourly pressure from every executive who is counting on the revenue. They will ping you mercilessly from dawn to dusk, ask how they can help, you tell them and nothing happens most of the time, and if you close it you did your job and get a brief reprieve, but if something goes awry or you don’t close it, there’s hell to pay.

Another highlight was that Vincent referred Kyle Carver, who he hired at ABM Advertising in 2008 and was the best pure seller he had ever seen, with a work ethic that was second to none, to Majestech to fill the role he had vacated in 2019 and he got it.

One of the most significant events of 2022 was Vincent’s father’s Parkinson’s diagnosis. Vince, Jr. had suffered a stroke and TIA in the years since his heart attack, and steadily declined in mobility, forcing him to give up basketball, volleyball and eventually golf.

Vincent was at the age where he spent the preponderance of his time and energy concerned and worrying about his aging parents and his unpredictable kids, and then trying feverishly to bury any and all emotions with work so he could carry on. Elizabeth was in high school and Vincent and Autumn were teaching her how to drive. Sydney was starting kindergarten.

Vincent was still teetering at the summit of the top of his game, leading a team where they all made more money than he did while he was arguably one of the most influential and impactful people and leaders in Majestech and technology. With over 300,000 social followers and now multiple published books, hundreds of podcast episodes and being asked to do something for a different team somewhere in the world every week, Vincent was stretched and wearing thin. Vincent was getting his team paid like rock stars and he was making far less than he believed he deserved.

The massive 9-figure Twin Cities Grace deal that never should have happened finally closed. The largest pure LinkedIn social selling win in the history of the world. Vincent nominated the top 5 members of the TCG team who had supported them for this 2-year deal cycle for an award. Wanting to give his replacement Audrey Teger top billing actually caused the award nomination to go through her hierarchy, and Audrey’s new jealous manager removed Vincent’s name from the award, giving it a zero percent chance of winning without its deal story and likely costing all 5 nominees $10,000 apiece. She was mad at Vincent for hiring Hailey Raines, his former technical specialist, for his new team; Hailey seeking to rejoin Vincent had put this manager on a warpath of false accusations of Vincent recruiting, which he did not do, that she reported up multiple lines of leadership in an attempt to stop it and tarnish Vincent.

He was always a target. Another jealous peer would report to Janet Leary anything he disagreed with that Vincent did or didn’t do with his team. Janet and Vincent had been close for 5 years, and this peer saw squeezing between them as a way to further their career and beat Vincent for a promotion Vincent didn’t even want and this person would never get anyway.

Bigger customers and deals mean bigger politics. More finger-pointing and hot potato, and trying to cast blame. Vincent executed relentlessly and had paper trails to raising compete flags but colleagues would still try to throw him under the bus to Janet Leary.

Vincent waded through the Bible, champion mindset books and sales leadership podcasts and coaching documentaries.

The sales culture at Majestech had never been overly strong or consistent; teams would plan 2-hour prospecting hacks and just sit around talking and posturing, while Vincent would be in the background messaging 6,000 leads and driving 10 new opps for $630K, while being chastised for not doing things the same way as his less effective peers.

Vincent’s top seller, Dina Barnes, drove yet another 9-figure win that would send everybody who supported her deal to Club.

Vincent’s team led the entire division in strategic deals. He realized the 86 managers in their organization didn’t talk to each other, so he formed Coaches’ Corner, where he organized the monthly best practice sharing, solicited for speakers and content, and then facilitated a masterclass on collaboration that led to manager tools and philosophies being shared broadly.

Vincent’s team supported a prominent healthcare analytics player, but the CIO wouldn’t take a meeting. He was often standoffish in e-mail if he responded at all. One day, he reached out upset when Majestech announced a healthcare data consortium and they “weren’t invited to the ball.”

Even when a customer is upset – perhaps especially when a customer is upset, because it is a strong emotion – there is opportunity to sit in the storm with them in hopes of walking with them in the sun. Vincent did some homework; this data consortium didn’t even go anywhere. But that wasn’t the point. The customer wanted to be included; wanted to be courted.

Vincent got a meeting with the CIO aimed toward finding deeper, meaningful projects in which to co-invest. He got a VP to be executive sponsor. He brought in Bart Johnstone, healthcare industry executive, who had helped him with TCG, and they loved him.

Vincent could’ve gone defensive. He could’ve explained the oversight, redirected blame, or shifted the conversation to products and capabilities. But instead, he leaned in.

Because he knew something most sellers forget in the heat of the moment: If a customer is talking to you—even angrily—it’s an opportunity. And he wasn’t going to waste it.

He studied the executive’s online profile for clues on what he cared about and how to best speak his language.

Their summary didn’t read like a marketer’s pitch. It was pragmatic, focused, clipped. The words they chose weren’t warm or flowery. They were metrics. Market position. Mentorship. Leadership. Substance over style. This was a fact-first, ego-free, mission-driven leader. Analytical, no-nonsense, allergic to fluff.

Vincent smiled. He’d been approaching them all wrong.

He had been writing like a storyteller, a relationship guy. But this exec? They didn’t care about the story—only the score.

So Vincent rewired his strategy: He trimmed every sentence of future outreach by half. No long emails. No metaphors. Just clarity. He highlighted mutual wins, potential co-innovation, and how their work supported shared customers. He offered zero hard pitches. Just collaboration and access.

Then, he did what few sellers are willing to do: he took his pride off the table.

He mobilized.

He opened the gates to the castle—unleashing a swarm of resources, architects, technical strategists, and executive sponsors to blanket the account with value. He pulled together a task force that treated the customer not as a target, but as a partner-in-progress.

They spent an entire day onsite with the customer’s leadership team, not to sell, but to listen. To diagnose pain points. To map solutions in real time. The roadmap they built wasn’t generic—it was bespoke, tied to the customer’s metrics and ambitions.

Vincent’s only goal? To earn their trust. Not with promises—but with action.

Over the coming months, the transformation was nothing short of astonishing. From being an afterthought, the company became one of Vincent’s flagship accounts. An 8-figure deal was signed, spanning every major solution area. His team was invited into their all-hands meetings—an unspoken rite of passage that meant they trusted him enough to let him inside the walls. They became a tentpole partner—showcasing innovation alongside Majestech at industry events, podcasts, and roundtables.

And the exec who had once felt overlooked? They became a vocal champion.

Because Vincent didn’t just show up to sell. He showed up to serve. He showed up to understand. And that made all the difference.

Vincent was still leading all the charts and executing plays better than anyone, but Majestech liked to spread the wealth when it came to giving recognition, awards and bonuses. Vincent had already had his time in Elite and President’s Club, and had won a dozen awards so the awards now went to others even when Vincent led in those metrics. He was still being asked to present and train to a different team every week and would do so without hesitation, but it was happening without recognition from his leadership.

It was frustrating for Vincent to see other people being rewarded for doing something well that he had perfected and was doing better, but what was he going to do?

December 2022. The final act of an already punishing year. For Vincent Scott, it felt less like a month and more like an extended unraveling. Rampant family and extended family challenges, from conflict and personal crises to health issues. More and more cracks in the fragile shell of resilience he wore like armor. Each day arrived like a tide of new chaos, forcing him to paddle furiously just to keep his head above water.

Work offered no sanctuary. His Q2 quota was a monstrous $18 million, inflated by unattainable expectations and dwindling opportunity. He had hustled. Innovated. Delivered the largest deal of his career. But still, it wasn’t enough. Some deals were chopped down to less than initial customer commitments and team aspirations, causing scrutiny instead of celebration in an organization struggling to hit their number. People seemed more interested in finding fault and scapegoats than celebrating wins.

Vincent Scott was a husband, father, therapist, salesman, podcaster, leader—and somewhere underneath all of that, a man trying not to break.

He tripled down on workouts, working out every single day for the first quarter of 2023 en route to an 8th consecutive annual gym record despite the pain in his knees, shoulder, back and elbow.

Massive companies came down with edicts to cut costs and expected Vincent and his Majestech team to drop their prices and contracts, discount to the point of devaluing their products in order to buy, and if they didn’t, they would go over his head to VP’s or C-levels. Vincent and Jarrett Danforth would crunch the numbers every which way they could on every customer and potential deal where there was addressable market. Vincent drove hard and negotiated harder, but these execs wouldn’t budge. It was a game of chicken where anything but a big win was a big loss.

Internal hoops and bureaucracy made it tougher and tougher to get anything done, even what should have been programmatic funding; thankfully, Vincent cashed in some political chips to get internal champions to rally for his cause, and where he was told he wouldn’t find any money whatsoever to get to fund a client’s project, he went to the Chief Revenue Officer and got $1M. Another deal done.

Vincent was sleepwalking. He could do the prospecting and customer conversations and deals and trainings mechanically.

It was also a world where tech layoffs were becoming more prominent, AI was hitting a stride, and Vincent Scott was heading full force toward 45. He casually stuck out feelers to some former colleagues and had conversations about potential next jobs.

But he finally got some attention from their VP, who was deferring to Vincent when execs tried to go to him over Vincent’s head, was having Vincent ghostwrite his e-mails to Vincent’s customer executives, and was heaping praise on Vincent’s vastly superior deal-driving and never give up attitude.

Vincent realized his addiction to winning; because it was what made him feel alive and worth something. He realized the value of if you’re going to fail, fail fast so you can regroup and find a different way. Vincent was continuing to accumulate experiences and wisdom that was making him better and better, no matter what he’d do next.

Unfortunately, their 13-year old cat passed away in the spring, making Autumn yearn for another pet. Elizabeth got her first job.

And in the waning days of another fiscal year, deals died left and right, Vincent’s team members failed to execute on fundamentals or deals that would have made a difference, and Janet Leary retired. Vincent’s best manager and mentor he had basically followed for 6 years would be gone, and Vincent Scott adopted a free agent mentality.

How to Survive and Thrive as a Salesperson in the AI Era (Even When It Feels Like AI Is Coming for Your Job)

AI isn’t coming for your job—it’s coming for every task that can be done faster, cheaper, and more predictably than you can do it.

And if you’re the kind of seller who just goes through the motions—firing off templated emails, reciting canned pitches, and waiting for leads to close themselves—you should be concerned.

But if you’re willing to evolve, to get uncomfortable, to become indispensable in ways a machine never could—you won’t just survive this shift. You’ll dominate it. I say that not from a place of theory, but from a career built on adapting, outlasting, and outmaneuvering disruption.

I’ve spent over 25 years in the sales arena—through mergers, layoffs, role dissolutions, entire books of business reassigned overnight. I’ve seen the rug pulled out from under me right after closing my biggest deals. But I’ve also stood on global stages, booked $1B+ in revenue, trained thousands of sellers, and been fortunate to live every high and low this career has to offer. And one truth echoes louder now than ever before: being good is no longer enough. Being excellent might not even be enough. You have to be invaluable.

So what does that look like? It starts with becoming a problem eliminator. Don’t just sell. Solve. Eliminate pain points for your customers, your team, your manager. When people say, “We need someone who can fix this,” your name should come up. AI can surface data, generate insights, even write proposals. But it can’t build trust. It can’t navigate a complex political landscape inside an organization. It can’t call an audible on a call when a stakeholder throws a curveball. You can. And that’s your edge—if you keep it sharp.

Surviving and thriving in the AI era means becoming a relentless student of the game. I study what works. I dissect what doesn’t. I steal shamelessly from the best—tweaking, refining, and blending their techniques with my own. If I read something in a book, hear it on a podcast, or see it work in the field, I ask: how can I adapt this for my playbook? How can I scale it across my team? Best practices are just potential until you make them kinetic. You can’t fake this part—you’ve got to love the game enough to always be learning. I still wake up every day asking myself, “How can I be more effective than I was yesterday?”

But knowledge alone won’t save you. You’ve got to be visible. You’ve got to be strategic with your brand. If people don’t know who you are and what you bring to the table, AI might not be the thing that replaces you—irrelevance will. That’s why I’ve built content. Written books. Recorded podcasts. Shared stories. Not for the likes—for the impact. It opens doors. It starts conversations. It makes you more than a name in the org chart or another rep in the CRM. In an era where digital presence is currency, silence is self-sabotage.

Adaptability is your insurance policy. My career has changed directions more times than I can count. Roles changed. Territories shifted. Entire divisions were absorbed or erased. And every single time, I asked the same question: “What can I still control?” The answer is always your effort, your mindset, your value creation, and your response to change. I’ve seen colleagues paralyzed by fear—afraid to call high, afraid to learn new tech, afraid to evolve. Meanwhile, I leaned into the discomfort. I took on the meetings no one else wanted. I embraced the chaos. That’s where growth lives. That’s how legends are made.

And let’s not forget the power of connection. You want to thrive? Stop going it alone. Build alliances. Learn from every conversation. Introduce people to each other. Add value even when there’s no immediate return. I’ve gotten some of my biggest breaks not from prospecting alone, but from someone I helped months ago referring me in at the right time. Influence is the compound interest of generosity and authenticity. And no algorithm can replicate that.

Now, don’t get me wrong—I love AI. I use it every day. It helps me research faster, draft better, scale outreach, prep for calls, and identify trends. But it’s a tool. I am the driver. I still personalize every high-stakes email. I still pick up the phone. I still lead with story, empathy, and insight. The future belongs to those who can blend high tech with high touch. Use AI to scale—but never to replace—the real you.

Here’s the bottom line: you survive this era by being someone no one wants to do business without. You thrive by being someone no one wants to lose. Be a value amplifier. Be the one who makes your boss look brilliant. Be the reason customers renew. Be un-automatable. Because the truth is, AI can’t kill sales. But it can expose the ones who never evolved.

Every reinvention, every setback, every time I got passed over or pushed out—I came back sharper. Stronger. And more determined.

You want to win in this era? Earn it. Evolve. Be unbeatable. Let AI come for your tasks. But own the role it will never touch—the human connection, the grit, the leadership, the insight, the trust. That’s how we survive. That’s how we thrive. That’s how legends are made.

Let’s call this moment in time what it really is: a reckoning.

We are living through a technological revolution that is rewriting every rule we once operated under in sales. AI is not the next wave—it’s the tide that’s already flooded our inboxes, our workflows, and our pipelines. We’re not talking about someday anymore. It’s today. AI is helping write the emails you receive, prioritize the leads you chase, generate call summaries, even draft the follow-ups and responses before you’ve had your first sip of coffee.

And for some folks, that’s terrifying. Especially if you’ve spent your career relying on repetition, habits, or your company’s infrastructure to carry you forward. The cold truth? If you’re in sales and your job can be replaced by AI, it will be. But here’s the good news: if you are willing to grow, adapt, and become invaluable in the ways that matter, you will never go out of style.

The Game Has Changed—Have You?

The days of staying at one company for 30 years and getting a gold watch are long gone. You are not being paid to be loyal. You’re being paid to build—to grow a business, to generate wins that show up in someone’s quarterly board deck. That’s the job.

You are a business within a business. God willing, a company signs you to a roster, gives you a jersey, and asks you to put points on the board. The mission? Execute. Win. And in doing so, you’re building a résumé that becomes a portable highlight reel—a portfolio of proof points that make the next hiring manager feel safer betting on you.

If you’re not seeing yourself as a business within a business, you’re already behind. And if you’re not using every tool at your disposal—including AI, social media, networking, storytelling, branding, and data—you’re leaving money and momentum on the table.

How I Became Invaluable (and How You Can Too)

I didn’t get where I am by being the smartest or most technical person in the room. I got here because I refused to be optional. Because I became a problem eliminator. Because I built relationships, delivered results, and wasn’t afraid to learn what I didn’t yet know.

There were days I was told my job no longer existed—the same week I won President’s Club. I’ve seen entire sales divisions wiped out. I’ve had territories stripped. I’ve started over more times than I can count. And yet, through it all, I remained standing. Why? Because I kept adding value. I stayed visible. I learned. I adapted. I made myself un-automatable.

Here’s how.

10 Practical Strategies You Can Implement Today to Future-Proof Your Sales Career

If you’re serious about not just surviving, but thriving, start doing these things right now:

1. Become a Student of the Game

The top 1% of sales professionals are obsessed with learning. Study the best. Dissect your losses. Reverse engineer your wins. Read books. Watch webinars. Sit in on deal reviews and ask the veterans questions.

Try this today: Ask a top performer on your team: “What’s the one thing you’re doing differently that most people aren’t?” Then try it.

2. Master AI—Don’t Fear It

You don’t have to be a data scientist to use AI to your advantage. Use it to draft emails, prep for meetings, extract insights, summarize calls, and scale your message. But don’t let it replace your human touch—use it to amplify it.

Try this today: Write a LinkedIn message or follow-up email with Copilot or ChatGPT. Then personalize the life out of it. Make it you.

3. Be a Problem Eliminator

Managers don’t want another status update. They want you to take things off their plate. Be the person who steps up when others tap out.

Try this today: Identify one bottleneck in your workflow—or your manager’s—and solve it. Don’t ask permission. Just do it.

4. Create Your Own Personal Brand

If you’re not visible, you’re vulnerable. Build your voice. Tell your story. Create content that adds value. Showcase your thought process, your leadership, your philosophy. A great LinkedIn post today might be the seed of a job offer tomorrow.

Try this today: Post something that reveals how you think—a lesson learned, a client success, a leadership moment, or a mistake that taught you something.

5. Network Like It’s Your Job—Because It Is

Every next opportunity is behind a door someone else opens for you. You are one conversation away from your next breakthrough. But you have to earn it. And that starts with showing up consistently and generously.

Try this today: Message 5 people you admire and say: “I’d love to learn from your journey. Could we do a 15-minute call sometime soon?” Ask for guidance, not a job.

6. Operate Like a Business Owner

You are the CEO of You, Inc. Track your metrics. Forecast like your job depends on it—because it does. Build your own plan. And execute it even when no one is watching.

Try this today: Create a one-page Q3 plan: Goals, key deals, strategic plays, learning objectives. Share it with your manager or a mentor.

7. Stack Wins That Travel With You

Every job is temporary. But the experiences, customer stories, wins, and transformations you create are permanent. That’s what de-risks you for your next hiring manager.

Try this today: Document your top 3 most meaningful wins from the past year. Who did you help? What changed? What did you learn?

8. Be Adaptable—Don’t Get Attached to the Playbook

Markets shift. Roles change. Products evolve. AI writes faster than you do. You have to be nimble. Don’t mourn the old playbook. Write a new one.

Try this today: Audit your calendar. Where are you doing outdated activities that aren’t generating impact? Replace them with learning, outreach, or process improvement.

9. Bring Energy, Consistency, and Positivity

You’d be shocked how far it gets you. Show up early. Show up curious. Show up grateful. Managers don’t just hire talent—they hire energy and trust.

Try this today: Message someone on your team and thank them for something they did this week. Brighten someone’s day on purpose.

10. Be Someone No One Wants to Lose

When reorgs hit, budgets shrink, or leadership changes—your role will be evaluated. The question is: will they say “we have to keep them”? Or “we can live without them”?

Try this today: Write down 3 reasons you’re indispensable. If you can’t think of any—go create them this week.

AI is only a threat if you’re average. But if you’re exceptional—if you’re evolving, executing, elevating others, and becoming a trusted advisor—AI becomes your ally, not your adversary. You become the one who people follow, listen to, learn from, and bet on.

So don’t wait. Build your brand. Own your value. Scale your voice. And stack enough wins that the next time someone looks at your résumé, your story, or your content, they don’t say “why you?”—they say “how soon can we bring you on?”

This is the moment.

Be legendary. Be the standard. Be unbeatable.

#Unbeatable #SalesLeadership #AIinSales #PersonalBrand #Resilience #SalesEvolution #ProblemSolver #AdaptAndThrive #FutureOfWork

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.