It’s 11pm, and I’m trying to wordsmith the right headline on slide 28 of a pitch deck. “We have a massive headroom in the online travel market” No, too generic. “The online travel market presents a $XM opportunity for us to capture?” Ugh, too corporate.
This pitch deck, my nemesis for the past 5 days, is still painfully mediocre.The storyline is convoluted. The data is too complex. I have 127 slides (and counting), too many for a 30-minute presentation. I take another sip of coffee. It’s going to be another long night.
I joined Google four years ago, bright-eyed and ready to conquer the world of digital advertising sales. A big part of my job involves building decks to lay out a digital investment strategy. My colleagues, many of them ex-consultants, were slide wizards who could effortlessly conjure a beautiful deck in a couple of hours. I, on the other hand, would toil for days on end, painfully squeezing out a Frankenstein deck like this one.
What was I doing wrong?
Struggling With Strategy
I was jealous. I craved the social validation of being seen as the expert. I fantasised about delivering pitches so powerful that they’d trigger a spontaneous standing ovation and a chorus of angels singing my praises. “Of course!!” My clients would yell, “Your genius has shown us that Responsive Search Ads are the Way to Enlightenment! Take our money!!!”
Spoiler alert: This has never happened. Not even once.
And yet, I persisted, fuelled by my inner schoolboy who craved gold stars and my teachers’ approval. Maybe if I just tweaked this graph, rephrased that sentence, and added one more animation… I’d finally be able to break through with my clients.
The problem? My clients weren’t buying it – literally. At presentations, I’d fumble through the slides, desperately trying to interpret their blank expressions and polite smiles. After I was done, I’d wait weeks for their response, watching as other teams closed million-dollar pitches. But instead of hearing the high praise of my clients, all I heard was… crickets.
The Epiphany Hidden In Plain Sight
After months of this torture, I turned to a senior leader for advice. He chided, “Ah, I see that you’ve fallen for the seduction of the Big Sexy Pitch”. He leaned in, “The real magic happens in the follow-up“
He explained further: A lot of people think of sales as the charismatic seller with the slick pitch at the front of the room. But the truth is, 80% of the sales process happens in the follow-up. It’s the unglamorous, day-to-day, administrative grunt work. It’s the little steps you take to move the deal forward one inch at a time. It’s about being the reliable, responsive guide, not The Greatest Showman.
Case in point: My wife and I went shopping for a car recently. At Dealership A, the sales rep gave us the full treatment: Feature demos, free coffee, and a customised proposal. We were sold, but we needed more details about the financing, which the sales rep promised to send over. Hours crawled by. Nothing.
Frustrated, we went to Dealership B, where we had a similar experience: A friendly rep, detailed answers to our questions, even a test drive. But this time, whenever I texted our rep a question, I got a response immediately. And it continued like this over the next few days. Warranty question at 7am on a Sunday? Bam – answer within seconds. Financing quote? Delivered instantly. This guy was a master at following up.
Guess who earned our business (and the commission)? The sales rep from Dealership B, of course. A day later, Dealership A’s rep finally sent me the info I was waiting for. I ignored him.
From Strategy To Stewardship
My senior leader’s advice got me thinking. Was it just about emails and quick replies? I think that’s part of it, but it’s not the whole story.
I recently stumbled on a blogpost by indie consultant Tom Critchlow on Strategy & Stewardship. He argues that consultants (and I realised, B2B salespeople) should focus on two things: Strategy (the sexy narrative, the pitch, the proof points) and Stewardship (the execution, the process, the trust-building).
I really like the idea of Stewardship. In the Bible, Jesus shares several parables about good stewards and bad stewards. Good stewards manage assets with consideration and responsibility. Bad stewards couldn’t care less about their clients.
Stewardship, I realised, is about treating client relationships like precious heirlooms, handling them with care and attention. In my world, it’s about sending clear next steps after the pitch, checking in regularly to clarify any confusion, and providing my clients the resources to champion my ideas. It’s about showing how our products will help them meet their goals and make them look good.
The bonus? The better you are at Stewardship, the more your Strategy will improve. Stewardship provides you with the feedback you need to improve your next pitch: What do the clients care about? What are the things that are obvious to you, but confusing to them? What are their blockers and watch-outs? It’s tough to uncover these answers within the confines of a one-hour pitch, but they naturally bubble up through the course of a long-term Stewardship journey.
Strategy still matters, of course. But it’s only the opening act. Stewardship, the underrated hero, is the main event.
I still spend a lot of time on pitch decks, but I no longer sacrifice my sleep perfecting them. Instead, I channel my energy into being a relentless steward, the go-to person, and the problem solver.