The Salesman Who Thought He Was a Strategist
Some people are born leaders. Others become leaders.
And then there’s this guy — the door-to-door salesman who stumbled into SaaS and decided he was the second coming of Marc Benioff.
His core skill set? Quoting prices at either 1.1 or 1.2 — like a human calculator with a two-digit operating limit. He calls it strategic pricing. I call it rolling a dice.
Every week, when the CRO asks, “What are we doing to close more deals?” he responds with the timeless corporate lullaby:
“We went to conduct a meeting there.”
That’s it. That’s the entire sales motion. Apparently, the act of driving to a meeting counts as pipeline progress.
No prep, no insight, no follow-up — but hey, the man clocked mileage.
He’s also discovered a new form of management — a mix of school attendance monitoring and mild dictatorship.
He’s got a pet - a team member assigned to report who reaches office when and who leaves when.
The twist?
The “pet” is the second most irregular person in the team. The only one who beats them in absenteeism is... the boss himself.
It’s performance theatre at its finest. Everyone’s playing a role - just not the one they were hired for.
Meanwhile, the real performers - the senior salespeople actually closing deals and keeping the company’s numbers alive - are managed by this self-proclaimed strategist.
He shamelessly rides on their success, reports it upward, and basks in the reflected glory of people far more capable than him.
You can almost admire the delusion. Almost.
So what should his team do?
Honestly - nothing.
You can’t fix structural stupidity.
Treat it like a live case study in organisational Darwinism. Watch how mediocrity not only survives but occasionally gets promoted.
If you’re in that team, use this time to learn - not from him, but from the system that allows him to exist. Because one day, when the next round of “efficiency transformation” or “AI-based automation” comes along… well, let’s just say Excel macros are already more useful than he is.
The future?
Bright - but not for him.
For the quiet ones watching, building skills, documenting red flags, and preparing their graceful exits.
Because every middle management mirage eventually evaporates.
And when it does, the people left standing are the ones who never confused motion for progress, or meetings for meaning.

Comments
Post a Comment