We all know the chilling, terror-filled feeling of making a mistake. A hot feeling streaks down the back of your neck while you quickly think through every way you might be able to take back what you’ve done. Your heart beats faster as the fight-or-flight impulse kicks in. You’re pretty sure this one mistake has ruined your entire life.
I was pitching the biggest client I’d ever approached, confident I was going to win the client’s business. There was absolutely no doubt in my mind — we had great rapport, there was mutual understanding of what we could do together, and I felt I’d grasped the client’s needs better than any competitor had. I was elated, thinking of what this big win would mean for my business and my career.
Where did I go wrong? This prospect was looking to build a diverse workforce, and his board told him he needed to bring in outside help. He was meeting with a variety of consultants and firms to determine who might be the best fit for the company’s needs — and a lot of people threw their hat into the ring for a $300,000 project, more than most consultants made in months of work.
For me, having experience with such a big client would help me scale my consulting business to serve other large clients. I talked at length about what I’d done for previous clients, which was clearly engaging to the client and his board; they asked several questions and offered very positive feedback on the information I provided. I missed out, however, on the fact that they were smaller businesses — and the board didn’t see how my work translated, mainly because I had failed to explain how my efforts at Company A could be tailored to Company B.
I thought I’d notched the biggest win of my life, but the mistakes I made during the pitch crushed my perceived win into a thousand pieces. Here’s where the board told me I went wrong.
I forgot to balance my storytelling.
Clients, like investors, want your pitch to show how you’ll take things from Point A to Point B. They want to see a clear action plan laid out, outlining the information gathering in the initial stage all the way to the data gathering occurring once the effort is live. They need you to convince them that you understand what it takes to create a viable plan and work it.
That means you need to come prepared with stats, of course — how much demand exists for what you’re proposing, how many competitors are doing something similar, how quickly you could scale your efforts. These data points paint a picture of how the big plan will play out.
I went way past that, however, and painted too detailed a picture. I provided so many tidbits about how we’d implement this, outsource that, and amplify this other thing that I overwhelmed the client. I introduced the plan the way it should have been presented after we’d signed on the dotted line. Instead of painting a Monet the client could admire from afar, my presentation was a bunch of pixelated dots the client couldn’t keep track of.
I let my personality take over.
I was proud of myself for not making the most common pitch mistake: failing to listen. But those of us entrepreneurs with extroverted personalities and a desire to talk to others can miss the moment when our engagement has become too centered on ourselves. We think we’re sharing our wisdom and impressing the client, but the important thing is being seen as a resource or a consultant rather than “just” an expert — clients want to be able to talk with you about their concerns, not just listen to you solve their problems.
Exuding charisma is still important; people invest in people and businesses they like. But building rapport can’t take a backseat — you need to communicate that you like and respect your prospect as much as he or she is communicating warm feelings toward you. Take mental breaks to imagine yourself in your audience’s shoes and gauge the presentation. If it feels like something is missing, reflect back your understanding of the client’s situation to allow the other person to elaborate and re-engage.
I failed to differentiate my offering.
The charisma thing is absolutely important for cementing yourself in someone’s mind, but it’s equally essential to cement your offering. Clarifying why your offering is different from others’ or explaining why your efforts will result in unique outcomes your prospect might want is vital. After all, it’s likely the person on the other side of the table is hearing pitches from multiple firms — you don’t just need to make a great impression on your company’s behalf, but you also need to be memorable in a lineup.
If you’re pitching your marketing agency, for example, it’s important to bring samples of the creative your team has developed, as well as brief case study anecdotes to highlight the experiences your clients have had with your agency they couldn’t have had elsewhere. Metrics like market share growth and ROI can also offer compelling contrasts.
This is where I went wrong; I was incredibly convincing in showing the client the problem that existed and the potential for further problems if efforts weren’t put in place to stop the snowball effect. But I failed to convince the client that my plan was different from the myriad others that had been presented, and the company ultimately picked a competitor who had presented a more unique solution than I had.
I’ll probably never forget the feeling of my heart sinking through my feet when I found out my pitch hadn’t been successful. The white-hot feeling of screwing up will stick with me as I walk into every pitch for the rest of my life. But because I had the courage to ask the client three months later why I wasn’t chosen, I learned lessons that will increase the likelihood that I’ll have an even bigger win down the road.
