The Best Worst Year Ever

The books are closed on 2022. How would you classify your year?

For the past few weeks, I’ve naturally been having this conversation with a lot of people (as I’m sure you have too). This is always an introspective time of year for me, and I like to retreat a little bit from my normal day-to-day to think about how things are going and in which direction I’d like them to head.

After quite a bit of thought, the best way I can describe 2022 is “the best worst year I could have possibly had.”

From a professional standpoint, I got off to a great start. Revenue was good, and although I hit a little speed bump in March, my pipeline was fuller than ever. I actually started re-evaluating the revenue targets I had set for myself. 2022 was going to be HUGE.

Then April happened.

I don’t know exactly what it was, but I had never seen so much pipeline disappear so quickly. Vapor. Gone. 

Some companies decided to pivot their strategies. Others preferred to wait a little bit until their teams were filled out to bring me in. There were the inevitable events outside of anybody’s control that interfered with a couple of deals.

All of the normal extraneous factors seemed to collude against me at once. It’s bound to happen to anyone, and it’ll happen to most people more than once in their careers.

But this time was different for me. I had real demons to face.

Ever since I’d started my business, I’d gone against the advice of every marketer worth their salt. I’d never decided on an ideal client profile, a target industry, or even a specific set of problems that I solve for people. I love the variety in the work that I do and the people I work with. It’s really difficult to try and categorize that much variety. As a result, my messaging and my marketing lacked focus.

How much of an issue is this, really? In good times, there are plenty of potential clients out there, many of them looking for the kind of help I can provide. When that’s the case, the pipe stays pretty full, and one can get away with being a little less focused and organized.

When things tighten the way they did in the economy this year, that lack of focus will leave you hanging out to dry, as it did me this year. It’s important for people to be able to put you in some kind of box. The context is vitally important to their understanding of how to utilize your services. 

From a sales standpoint, if you don’t have the context yourself, how can you create it for others? That’s where I have felt stuck for years, but I always had a convenient excuse not to do the hard work. Part of me thought, and most of the rest of me was convinced, that maybe I could hang around long enough for these details just to figure themselves out.

I was aided by friends and colleagues who encouraged me to continue. “You’re doing great work. Keep doing what you’re doing. Have faith.” Still, it felt like something was missing. I knew it, but I didn’t want to have to do the work.

Lesson: when you know something, acknowledge it and don’t let anybody talk you out of it.

So here I was, a sales consultant (and a pretty damn good one), not feeling able to help myself. More than frustrating, it was embarrassing. That’s the kind of shame that makes you question your constitution and your integrity. This time, I decided to listen to that intuition. I knew I had to dig in and do the dirty work I’d been avoiding for too long.

As I leaned into this professional identity crisis, a few things became abundantly clear. One was that I’ve never felt more certain that I was put here to do the work I’m doing. Another was that the work I’m doing around the #SellLikeYou concept is touching a real nerve. That was enough to keep me moving forward and recognizing the excruciatingly slow progress along the way.

What remained unclear, however, was how long this journey through the proverbial wilderness would take. But the thing about this part of the literary hero’s journey is that the length of the trip doesn’t matter. It’s the one we all have to take at some point and now was my time.

Lesson: you don’t get to choose if you go on this journey, just when.

The more I leaned into it, the more clarity I got. I found resources. I was willing to have vulnerable conversations, which led to more discovery and better understanding. The past six months have probably been the toughest of my life, but for some reason, all along the way, I was able to see small steps of progress, and I kept taking them.

Things started clicking (as they do). I found more clarity. Many of you noticed.

“Jeff, I don’t know what happened, but a few months ago, I noticed a shift in what you’re writing and talking about.”

“Jeff, your work over the past few months has been better than everything you’ve done before then combined.”

The concept that has run throughout all of my work as a consultant and coach has been that of belief. The sale begins and ends with it. You believe you’ve got what it takes to make the first sale, and then you believe you can make it again. You believe in the magic you and your solution bring to the table, and you toe the line.

For me, the concept of belief felt too squishy to be tangible, and I thought it might be too squishy to be taken seriously. Yet I knew it to be true. The cognitive dissonance ate at me, and it was incredibly distracting. It literally kept me from doing my best work until I leaned into it.

Now I’m doing my best work, and the concepts are still just unfolding. The truth is coming out, and it’s resonating. I trust myself and my intuition at a level I couldn’t before, and the results are already showing. That time in the wilderness wasn’t just worthwhile; it was necessary.

It’s not lost on me that I had to slay the same dragons I’m helping my clients fight. Call it poetic justice or just an important rite of passage, but the stories, the feelings, and the empathy now all exist at higher levels. I can speak freely and openly about the experience that everybody knows they need to have, but so many are afraid to confront. It’s not fun, but it’s vital. I’ve never been a better guide than I am right now, and I’m still only half as good as I’ll ever be.

Another benefit of this professional identity crisis is how tight my family became. We all felt this in one way or another together. 

My wife has always been my biggest advocate, cheerleader, and coach. She stepped up to the plate big time this year, even as she dealt with some of her own challenges. She’s the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me.  

My kids were solid as a rock and handled the entire situation with so much poise. They don’t know all the details, but they knew something was up with Dad this year. In some ways, it helped them grow up. I guess we’ll see down the road if it did any emotional damage, but the four of us have never been tighter as a unit, and I don’t know if many parents of young teenagers can say that.

As we turn the page today to 2023, I’m excited. I’ve got steep goals, but unlike any time in the past, I feel like I have what it takes within my control to go and accomplish them. They’re going to require that I continue to grow and push myself, and I feel like I’m just the right amount of scared as I lean in.

I love this from Steven Pressfield (who’s become sort of a spiritual teacher to me), “Fear is good. Like self-doubt, fear is an indicator. Fear tells us what we have to do. Remember one rule of thumb: the more scared we are of a work or a calling, the more sure we can be that we have to do it.” 

I know what I have to do. The path ahead is still a little foggy, but I know it’s the right path, and I know I have what it takes to navigate it. It’s a new feeling of empowerment that I’ve never had before, and I’m excited to see what the road ahead will offer.

In many ways, 2022 was the worst year I’ve ever had. In so many others, it was the very best.

I wish the road ahead for you to be clear, exciting, and inspiring.

Cheers to making 2023 your best year ever.