Total Click Solutions

Tag: business development

  • Who Names the Price First Wins

    Who Names the Price First Wins

    Whoever names a number first in a B2B negotiation tends to win more of it, and that’s not a sales myth. People hang on to the first figure they hear and use it as a reference point for everything that follows. That reference point is the anchor, and if you don’t set it, your buyer will.

    Why buyers try to anchor first

    Professional procurement teams understand this perfectly well. A common opener is to ask for your “best price” in the first or second meeting, before there’s been any real conversation about scope or value. The logic is simple: get the seller to name their floor, then anchor 15-30% below it. Once you’ve disclosed your floor, the negotiation starts there, not from your ideal outcome.

    Sellers who give away pricing before completing discovery close deals significantly below their initial ask. The gap compounds across every deal in a pipeline. It’s not a rounding error.

    Setting the anchor without inflating it

    The instinct when you hear “anchor high” is to quote a wild opening number and negotiate down, but that approach tends to backfire. Opening with your value-based reference price is the right move, not an artificially inflated one, because a buyer who feels they’re being played will stop engaging with your logic and start digging in on principle.

    What does work is framing your number in context. Rather than stating a flat price, you reference what comparable clients invest, which is both honest and conveniently higher than the specific number you’re about to propose for this buyer’s scope. If you’re selling a SaaS solution at £50,000 a year, you might note that clients in a similar sector typically invest between £60,000 and £80,000 for a complete solution, then propose £55,000 based on the scope in front of you. Your actual target suddenly feels like a considered concession rather than an opening gambit.

    Word choice matters too. Saying you “invest around” a figure rather than “it costs” implies return and suggests some flexibility, without committing to a specific discount. Small distinctions, but they shape how a number lands.

    Anchor the value before you anchor the price

    Price anchoring works best when it isn’t really about the price, at least not initially. Drop a big number too early and it sounds inflated rather than strategic. The sequence matters: value first, then the number that reflects it.

    A useful discipline is to quantify the cost of the problem you’re solving before you ever mention what you charge. By the time your price appears, it’s being evaluated against the cost of inaction rather than against a vague sense of what software “should” cost. That’s a fundamentally different comparison, and a considerably more favourable one.

    When the buyer anchors low anyway

    Even with good preparation, buyers will sometimes open with a number that seems designed to make you wince: a competitive quote from a supplier you’ve never heard of, or a budget figure that’s been through several rounds of internal trimming before it reached you. The temptation is to immediately justify your price, which is usually the wrong move.

    A calmer response is to question the anchor rather than accept or reject it outright. Asking open-ended questions about why they’re suggesting that number does two things: it buys you time to think, and it often reveals that the buyer’s position is softer than it seemed. Budget figures have a funny habit of becoming more flexible once someone explains how the problem is costing them more than the solution.

    Price anchoring isn’t a single moment in a negotiation. It’s a posture you maintain from discovery onwards, consistently tying your number back to the value that justifies it, and never letting someone else’s opening figure become the centre of gravity for the conversation.

  • When Someone Asks to Partner With You

    When Someone Asks to Partner With You

    Someone emails you. They think there’s a great opportunity to work together. They’d love to explore synergies. Their audience would be perfect for your product, and vice versa. Could you find 30 minutes this week?

    The instinct, especially if business is going well and you’re feeling generous, is to say yes. But most inbound partnership requests, even the genuinely well-meaning ones, aren’t worth a meeting, and the faster you can work that out the better for everyone involved.

    The problem with treating all inbound as flattery

    An inbound request feels different from a cold sales pitch. Someone is coming to you, which carries a small psychological charge. It implies you’ve done something right, that you’re visible, that people want to attach themselves to what you’re building. That feeling is worth being suspicious of, because it’s exactly the feeling that leads teams to spend two months in exploratory conversations with a company that was never a real fit.

    The opposite trap is just as real: declining too quickly, too bluntly, and leaving the other party feeling snubbed. A bad exit from a partnership conversation can damage a relationship that would otherwise have been useful, just not in the form they proposed.

    What you need is a lightweight filter you can run in five minutes, before you commit time to either outcome.

    Four questions worth asking before you book a call

    What, specifically, are they proposing? Vague requests, “I think we could do something together” or “there seems to be a natural fit here,” are a signal that the other party hasn’t thought it through yet. That doesn’t make them bad partners, but it does mean the first meeting will be spent doing the work they should have done before reaching out. It’s entirely fair to reply asking them to sketch the specific arrangement they have in mind: a referral exchange, a co-marketing campaign, a reseller agreement, an integration. If they can’t answer that in writing, a call isn’t going to produce clarity.

    Who exactly would benefit, and how? The most common failure mode in partnership conversations is that the proposer has a clear picture of what they get and a vague optimism about what you get. Before you meet, try writing down, in one sentence each, what your company gains and what theirs gains. If you can’t write your sentence, that’s worth knowing before you spend an hour on a call finding out.

    Does this fit the company you are right now? It’s very easy to evaluate a partnership against the company you imagine being in 18 months rather than the one you’re actually running today. A referral arrangement with a large enterprise software firm sounds compelling in the abstract, but if your sales team is two people and your onboarding process can’t handle a sudden surge of leads, the timing is wrong regardless of the fit. Evaluate against your actual capacity, not your aspirational one.

    What does it pull you away from? Every partnership, even a light one, costs real time: kick-off meetings, co-ordination overhead, the internal alignment required to make anything happen. Before saying yes to a call, name concretely what that time would otherwise be spent on. If the honest answer is “something more important,” you have your decision.

    What to do when the answer is no

    Declining is less awkward than most people fear, provided you’re direct and reasonably quick about it. A reply that arrives three weeks later, after several chaser emails, is far more damaging to the relationship than a prompt, honest no. Something like “it doesn’t fit our priorities right now, but we’d be glad to revisit in Q3” is specific enough to be respectful and leaves an actual door open rather than a polite fiction.

    The “not now” framing is genuinely useful, not just as a face-saving device but because circumstances do change. Keeping a short record of declined conversations, with a note on what would need to be different, costs almost nothing and occasionally pays off when the timing finally lines up.

    When the answer is yes

    If the request passes the filter, the most useful next step before any formal commitment is a bounded, measurable pilot. Agree on what a successful first 60 or 90 days would look like, put a specific number on it, qualified referrals accepted by both teams, content published, integrations tested by real users, and review the result before expanding scope. Most partnerships that eventually fail do so because they scaled before anyone had evidence that the underlying mechanics actually worked.

    It’s also worth sharing your evaluation criteria openly from the start. A partner who knows you’re measuring audience overlap and referral quality upfront, rather than discovering it during a tense quarterly review, will work more productively within those parameters throughout.

  • When Procurement Joins the Deal Mid-Way

    When Procurement Joins the Deal Mid-Way

    What procurement actually wants from you

    Procurement entering a deal you thought was nearly closed is a particular kind of unwelcome surprise, like a second interviewer walking in twenty minutes after you thought the job was yours. You’ve spent weeks building a relationship with the person who actually feels the problem, they’re enthusiastic, the commercial outline is agreed, and then a message arrives asking you to resubmit everything to a procurement portal by Friday.

    The instinct is to treat procurement as an obstacle, and that tends to produce exactly the adversarial dynamic sellers dread. Procurement teams aren’t trying to kill deals; they’re trying to protect their organisations from bad ones, and from sellers who overpromise. Understanding that shift in motive changes how you approach the conversation.

    Your business champion cares about outcomes: the problem gets fixed, their team’s life improves, they look good internally. Procurement cares about something adjacent but distinct: can this supplier be trusted, are the terms defensible, and does the price reflect genuine market value? They’re evaluating you rather than your product, so the materials that persuaded your champion, the demo, the case study, the ROI story, often land flat with a professional buyer who has seen every flavour of vendor enthusiasm.

    What tends to work is giving procurement what they’re actually trying to build: a clear, written rationale for choosing you over alternatives. That means a crisp summary of the commercial terms already discussed, your standard contract redline position so legal review doesn’t start from scratch, any relevant compliance documentation (ISO certifications, security questionnaires, data processing agreements), and a plain-language explanation of what differentiates your offer at this price point. Procurement won’t always tell you what they’re optimising for, so it’s worth asking directly: budget ceiling, payment terms, contract length, or something else entirely?

    Don’t lose your champion

    The most dangerous thing that happens when procurement arrives is that sellers shift all their attention to the new stakeholder and go quiet with the business champion. That champion stops feeling like a partner and starts feeling like a bystander, which matters because most of the internal conversation still happens in rooms you’re not in. Keep them updated, send them short summaries they can forward, and be explicit that you need their continued support to get the deal across the line.

    It’s also worth asking your champion what they know about how their procurement team actually operates. Some organisations use it as a genuine strategic function that can accelerate deals if properly engaged; others use it primarily as a lever to extract a late discount. Knowing which situation you’re in shapes how much energy you invest, and in what direction.

    The discount conversation

    Almost every procurement team will ask for a price reduction. It’s not personal, and it’s not necessarily a sign the deal is in trouble; for many buyers it’s simply expected behaviour, a box to tick before they can sign off internally. When the request comes, it’s worth asking what they’re actually trying to achieve: a lower unit price, a longer payment term, additional scope at the same cost, or a smaller initial commitment with an option to expand. Each of those has a different answer, and most of them aren’t the same as simply cutting your margin.

    If you do move on price, get something in return: a longer contract term, a faster signature date, a reference customer agreement, an expanded scope. Procurement respects reciprocity. A seller who concedes immediately without asking for anything signals that the original price was inflated, which only encourages further pressure.

    Get ahead of it next time

    The best version of selling to procurement is when you’ve already anticipated their involvement rather than scrambled to respond to it. Early in any significant deal, ask your champion directly: will procurement be involved in approving this, and if so, at what stage? That one question, asked without alarm, lets you prepare the right documentation in advance, introduce yourself to the procurement contact before the pressure is on, and avoid the jarring reset that comes from treating them as a late arrival rather than a planned stakeholder.

    On enterprise deals, buying groups routinely include ten or more people, and procurement typically enters the conversation in the first third of the evaluation rather than at contract review, even if sellers don’t always know it. The organisations that close these deals reliably are the ones that have already thought about what each stakeholder needs, long before anyone sends the first RFQ email.

  • Win-Loss Analysis: Ask the Deals That Got Away

    Win-Loss Analysis: Ask the Deals That Got Away

    Most companies think they know why they lose deals. The sales rep marks the CRM field “lost to competitor” or “budget freeze”, and everyone moves on. The problem is that those close-lost reason codes are almost entirely self-reported, written by someone with every incentive to avoid blaming themselves, and they quietly accumulate into a dataset that tells a plausible but largely fictional story about why the business isn’t growing.

    Win-loss analysis is the straightforward corrective: you go and ask the buyer. Not your rep’s recollection of what the buyer said, not a survey sent three months later. You talk to the actual person who made the decision, while the memory is still reasonably fresh, and you ask them what happened.

    Why reps can’t do this themselves

    It’s not that sales reps are dishonest, it’s that buyers aren’t honest with them. If the account rep conducts the debrief, buyers soften negative feedback to protect the relationship, or because they feel a bit awkward telling someone to their face that their product was second-rate. A neutral interviewer, someone from customer success, revenue operations, or a third-party firm, consistently surfaces harder truths, because there’s nothing to protect. The buyer’s candour is the whole point of the exercise, and you only get it when the conversation feels consequence-free.

    Start with a specific question, not a vague goal

    “Understand why we lose deals” is not an objective, it’s a mood. Before you contact a single buyer, write down two or three specific things you actually need to know: why you’re losing to a particular competitor in mid-market accounts, whether your new pricing tier is costing you deals at a certain ACV, where enterprise evaluations seem to stall. A vague goal produces a rambling interview and notes that sit in a shared folder until someone accidentally deletes them.

    The specific question shapes everything downstream, which deals you look at, which buyers you contact, and which five or six interview questions you actually ask. Keeping interviews to around twenty minutes is not laziness; buyers who agreed to talk as a favour will give you their honest forty-minute answer in a focused twenty-minute conversation, and nothing at all if you send them a forty-question form.

    Interview wins too, not just losses

    This is the bit most teams skip. Talking only to lost deals gives you a catalogue of your weaknesses with no sense of what’s actually working. Interviewing buyers you did win tells you what tipped the decision your way, which is often not what your sales team thinks it was. You might assume it was a compelling demo; it turns out it was a case study from the buyer’s specific industry that a junior SDR remembered to send over. That kind of specific, replicable behaviour is the thing worth knowing.

    What to actually ask

    Open-ended questions only. “Did you find the proposal useful?” produces a yes. “What did you make of the proposal?” produces information. Beyond that, a handful of questions covers most of what you need:

    • Who was involved in the final decision, and what did each person care about most?
    • What were the two or three criteria that ultimately drove the choice?
    • Was there a moment when the decision became clear, and what happened at that point?
    • What did we do well, and where did we fall short compared to whoever you went with?
    • What would we need to change to be genuinely competitive for your next evaluation?

    That last question is the one people forget to ask, and it’s often the most useful. The buyer has just done a thorough evaluation of your market, they have opinions, and they’re usually willing to share them if asked plainly.

    What to do with what you learn

    Findings from win-loss interviews tend to sort themselves into a fairly small number of recurring themes, pricing, product gaps, sales experience, competitive positioning, and the patterns become obvious reasonably quickly across a dozen or so conversations. The risk at this stage isn’t that you won’t find anything interesting; it’s that the interesting things will get written up in a slide deck and presented to leadership once, and then never acted on.

    The fix is to route each finding to a specific owner before you finish the analysis. Product gaps go to the product team with a deadline. Messaging mismatches go to marketing. A rep who keeps losing deals at the demo stage needs coaching, not a spreadsheet. Win-loss analysis without a named person responsible for each output is just expensive curiosity.

    Run the whole thing quarterly, on a consistent sample of deals, and you’ll start to see whether things are actually improving, which is a considerably more useful thing to know than whatever your CRM’s close-lost field currently says.

  • Getting Internal Buy-In: Sell the Problem, Not the Solution

    Getting Internal Buy-In: Sell the Problem, Not the Solution

    Most proposals for new initiatives die not because they’re bad ideas, but because the person pitching them leads with the answer before anyone in the room feels the question. Internal buy-in is genuinely harder to get than external sign-off, partly because colleagues don’t have the politeness incentive that a vendor conversation creates, and partly because they already know where the bodies are buried.

    The fundamental mistake: pitching the solution first

    When you walk into a meeting with a fully formed proposal, a slide deck, and a recommended vendor, you’ve already lost a significant portion of the room. People who haven’t been on your journey through the problem don’t yet feel its weight, so your solution lands as an imposition rather than a relief. They’ll push back on the cost, the timing, the complexity, and they’re not fundamentally wrong to do so, because you haven’t given them a reason to care.

    The more effective sequence is almost embarrassingly simple: spend the first part of any internal conversation establishing that the problem is real, quantifiable, and getting worse. Not by lecturing, but by asking questions you already know the answers to. A CFO who says aloud that the current reporting process wastes twelve hours a month has now said it, which is categorically different from you saying it on their behalf.

    Who actually needs to say yes

    One of the most reliable ways to stall an internal initiative is to pitch it to the wrong person first. Seniority on an org chart and actual decision-making authority over a specific budget are not always the same thing, and presenting to someone who can’t approve it but can quietly shelve it is a common and avoidable error.

    Before you put anything in writing, map out not just who has formal sign-off but who has informal veto power, because in most organisations those are different people entirely. If a head of department is enthusiastic but the finance director sees the number and goes quiet, you haven’t got buy-in, you’ve got a hostage situation. Talk to finance early, even informally, and preferably before the cost appears in a document with your name on it.

    What a credible internal case actually needs

    It doesn’t need to be long. A twenty-slide deck is not more convincing than a clear two-page summary; it’s just more places to hide weak thinking. A business case that gets approved tends to answer four questions in plain language: what is the problem and how do we know it’s real, what happens if we do nothing, what are we proposing and roughly what will it cost, and what does success look like in measurable terms.

    The costs and risks deserve their own honest paragraph. Not because you want to talk yourself out of approval, but because naming the downsides makes the benefits more believable. A proposal that acknowledges change management friction or a six-month bedding-in period reads as something a thoughtful person wrote, rather than something a hopeful one did.

    The timing problem nobody talks about

    Even a well-constructed case will fail if it arrives at the wrong moment in the budget cycle, immediately after a restructure, or when the person approving it is already committed to three other priorities that quarter. Internal timing is political in the least glamorous sense: it’s about knowing when the organisation has appetite, and that knowledge comes from conversation, not from analysis.

    The most effective approach is to float the problem informally several weeks before you formalise anything, so that by the time you present a proposal, the people in the room have already been thinking about the issue and have partially arrived at the conclusion themselves. That’s not manipulation. It’s just how decisions actually get made in organisations, and pretending otherwise tends to produce a lot of beautiful documents that nobody acts on.

  • Stop Relying on One Champion to Close the Deal

    Stop Relying on One Champion to Close the Deal

    The champion is not enough. They might be enthusiastic, politically savvy, and completely sold on what you’re offering, and the deal can still go cold the moment someone from finance asks a question they can’t answer. Every experienced seller has felt this, usually right before a deal slips into next quarter.

    Buying committees have been growing for years and haven’t stopped. Forrester’s 2024 research puts the median at eleven or more stakeholders, up from eight in 2018, and InfoSec, data-privacy, and vendor-risk reviews now routinely add weeks to enterprise deals even at mid-market accounts. The person who invited you into the process almost certainly doesn’t control all of those conversations.

    The logical instinct when you get a warm intro is to nurture that one relationship carefully before expanding. Establish trust first, then broaden out. It sounds sensible, and it’s exactly how deals stall, because while you’re spending six weeks deepening one relationship, the rest of the buying committee is forming opinions about your product from your website, your competitors’ outreach, and whatever your champion happens to mention in passing.

    Why single-threaded deals collapse

    The failure mode is predictable. Your champion goes quiet because they’re busy, pulled onto something else, or managing internal politics you can’t see, and suddenly there’s no momentum. Or they leave the company entirely, which, given how frequently people change jobs, is hardly an edge case. A multi-threaded deal survives that because several other people already understand the value you’re offering. A single-threaded one doesn’t.

    There’s also a subtler problem: the business case your champion builds will naturally cover their area of pain. Finance, IT, legal, and operations all have different concerns, and none of them are going to rubber-stamp a recommendation that doesn’t address theirs. The enemy usually isn’t a rival vendor. It’s internal friction you were never part of resolving.

    What multi-threading actually means in practice

    Multi-threading means building active relationships across the buying committee rather than relying on one person to carry the deal internally. The goal isn’t to flood an account with messages, which irritates everyone, but to make sure each relevant stakeholder hears something tailored to their specific concern, ideally before the formal evaluation stage, when opinions are still forming.

    Sequencing matters. Build a genuine champion first, then use that relationship to map the rest of the committee and get introductions rather than going around your contact cold. By the third or fourth touchpoint you should have names and roles for the economic buyer, the technical evaluator, and whoever is going to run procurement. These are not the same person, and they almost never want the same thing from a conversation with you.

    A practical way to think about it: your champion needs confidence to sell internally; your economic buyer needs a number that justifies the spend; your technical contact needs to know it won’t create new problems; procurement needs to know you’re not a compliance headache. A business case built across five stakeholders quantifies the cost of inaction in multiple functions, which is a considerably more compelling document than one person’s departmental pain.

    The CRM problem nobody talks about

    Despite all the evidence that multi-threaded deals close at materially higher rates, roughly 70% of B2B opportunities still have only one point of contact logged in the CRM. That’s not a coincidence. Single-threading is the path of least resistance: one relationship to manage, one inbox to track, one person to update. Expanding the contact map takes deliberate effort and a willingness to ask your champion to make introductions, which feels uncomfortable when the deal is still fragile.

    But the discomfort of asking for those introductions is considerably less than the discomfort of explaining in Q4 why a deal you had forecast as certain has gone dark because your contact moved to a different company.

    Frequently Asked Questions

    When should I start multi-threading, after the first meeting or later?

    As early as the second or third touchpoint, once you have a genuine champion. The common mistake is waiting until the deal feels advanced, by which point the rest of the committee has already formed views without your input. Use your champion to make warm introductions rather than reaching out cold.

    What if my champion doesn’t want me talking to other stakeholders?

    That’s worth paying attention to. A champion who actively blocks broader access is often signalling that the deal doesn’t have the internal support they’ve implied. It’s not always a red flag, but it’s worth a direct conversation about why, framed around making it easier for them to build the internal case.

  • Why Your Pilot Never Converts to a Contract

    Why Your Pilot Never Converts to a Contract

    A pilot that works perfectly and still doesn’t convert is a particular kind of frustrating, because everyone involved agrees it went well. The product did what it was supposed to do. The users liked it. Someone senior nodded approvingly in the debrief. And then nothing happens, except perhaps a vague conversation about “next steps” that leads to another pilot.

    This is pilot purgatory, and it’s far more common than it ought to be. The product is almost never the problem. The gap is almost always between “it works” and “someone with a budget has committed to buying it.”

    Why pilots stall even when they succeed

    Running a pilot and closing a commercial deal require completely different things from the buyer’s organisation, and most sellers only prepare for the first one. A pilot can be approved by a department head, staffed with a small enthusiastic team, and run on a discretionary budget. A full contract needs procurement, finance sign-off, an IT security review, and sometimes a board line. The champion who ran your pilot may have precisely zero influence over any of those people.

    There’s also a comfort issue that rarely gets named directly: a pilot is reversible. The buyer can run it, get a result, write a happy summary, and walk away having spent almost nothing, changed nothing, and committed to nothing. As long as the conversation stays in pilot territory, no one has to make a real decision. That’s not a technology problem, it’s a momentum problem, and it’s one that sellers inadvertently create by treating the pilot as the goal rather than as the first step towards a contract.

    The mistakes that guarantee purgatory

    The most reliable way to end up with a successful pilot and no deal is to agree to the pilot without agreeing on what success looks like, who decides next steps, and what the commercial path is once you’ve hit the milestones. If those three things aren’t defined before day one, you’ll spend the pilot collecting positive feedback with no clear trigger for conversion.

    A related mistake is choosing the wrong pilot customer. Interest alone isn’t enough. The buyer needs a problem that’s already costing them something real, an operational owner who will actually engage with your product week to week, and a credible path from a team-level trial to a company-level purchase order. Without that procurement pathway already visible, a glowing pilot result simply has nowhere to go inside the buyer’s organisation.

    Then there’s pricing. Many pilots are run for free or at a nominal cost framed as a gesture of good faith, which is often a mistake, partly because it signals that the full product might be negotiable, and partly because free things tend to get treated accordingly. Structuring pilot pricing to mirror your full commercial model, even at a reduced scope, does two things: it tests whether the buyer is genuinely serious, and it makes conversion to a paid contract feel like a natural continuation rather than a new and frightening commitment.

    What to fix before you start

    The conversion conversation should be agreed in writing before the pilot kicks off, not improvised after the results are in. That means getting explicit answers to three questions: What does success look like in measurable terms? Who in the buyer’s organisation has the authority to sign a full contract? And what happens commercially on day 91 if those metrics are hit?

    Those questions feel a bit presumptuous to ask, which is exactly why most people don’t ask them. But a buyer who genuinely intends to buy isn’t put off by them. A buyer who is using the pilot to delay a decision, manage internal politics, or simply get free access to your product for a quarter will find them very uncomfortable, which is useful information to have before you’ve invested three months of delivery time.

    It also helps to translate your results into the buyer’s commercial language as you go, rather than presenting a technical summary at the end. Time saved in a workflow becomes a productivity case. A reduction in error rates becomes a risk argument that finance can follow. The person who ran the pilot may be persuaded already; the people who will approve the contract need the numbers in a form they recognise.

    One pattern that actually works

    The pilots that convert most reliably treat the commercial discussion as parallel to the pilot itself, not as something that begins when the pilot ends. Regular check-ins with the champion track progress against the agreed metrics, and about two-thirds of the way through, someone from your side asks directly whether the results so far are building the case internally, and if not, what’s missing. That conversation surfaces blockers early enough to do something about them, rather than discovering in the final debrief that procurement was never looped in.

    The final review meeting should close with a date on a decision, names attached to accountability, and a clear commercial next step. Left vague, further evaluation almost always extends the uncertainty rather than resolving it.

    If you find yourself running pilot after pilot with the same type of customer and seeing low conversion across all of them, the issue is almost certainly structural: either you’re targeting buyers who lack the internal authority or budget pathway to proceed, or your pilot process is optimised for delivery rather than for commercial conversion. Those are genuinely different things that require different people and different instincts to manage well.

  • Your Discovery Call Is Killing the Deal

    Your Discovery Call Is Killing the Deal

    Most discovery calls lose the deal before anyone mentions price. The rep arrives with a script, works through it dutifully, and finishes feeling like that went well, while the prospect is already half-switched-off and composing a polite “we’ll be in touch” email. The call was technically complete. It just wasn’t a conversation.

    The checklist problem

    The single most common failure is treating discovery like a form to fill in. Reps move from question to question without really processing what they’ve heard, because they’re already thinking about what comes next, and the prospect who came hoping to feel understood ends up feeling processed instead. The questions get answered, the boxes get ticked, and nothing of substance is learned by either side.

    The fix is genuinely simple, if a little uncomfortable: ask a question, actually listen to the answer, then ask a follow-up based on what you just heard before moving on. It sounds obvious, but it’s rarer than it should be, and prospects notice immediately when it happens.

    Pitching before you’ve earned it

    A rep does their research, gets excited about the fit, and can barely contain the urge to show off what the product does. So before the prospect has finished articulating what they actually need, the rep is already talking about features. Engagement quietly evaporates.

    A practical guardrail: commit to asking at least three open-ended questions before you mention a single product feature. Not because three is a magic number, but because it forces a pause long enough to actually learn something. If you catch yourself pivoting to pitch mode, stop and ask another question instead.

    Asking things you should already know

    Asking a prospect how many employees they have, or what tools they currently use, when that information is sitting on their website or LinkedIn, signals clearly that you didn’t prepare. Most buyers have done substantial research before agreeing to a discovery call at all, so arriving with questions about public information reads as lazy at best.

    A twenty-minute look at LinkedIn, Companies House, Crunchbase, and any recent press releases changes the entire tone of the conversation. You can ask about things that actually matter rather than things that are already written down somewhere.

    Not going deep enough when something interesting surfaces

    The prospect mentions something significant, something that might be the real reason they’re looking for a solution, and the rep nods and moves on to the next prepared question. The seed of the real problem gets passed over in favour of completing the script.

    When something interesting comes up, stay with it. “Tell me more about that” isn’t a sophisticated technique, but it works because it gives the prospect permission to keep talking. The causes, costs, and knock-on effects of a problem are almost always more revealing than the problem itself, and that’s where you find out whether you’re genuinely useful to them or not.

    Ending without a real next step

    Vague sign-offs are where qualified deals quietly go cold. “I’ll follow up with some information” isn’t a next step, it’s a postponement. A discovery call should end with a specific, calendar-confirmed action, whether that’s a demo, a proposal call, or a clear decision on whether to proceed at all. Without that, you’re both starting from scratch the next time you speak, assuming there is a next time.

    Summarise what you heard, check your understanding is correct, and propose a concrete next step before the call ends. That summary also shows the prospect you were actually listening, which, given how infrequently it happens, tends to leave a surprisingly strong impression.

    Frequently Asked Questions

    How long should a discovery call be?

    Most effective discovery calls run between 20 and 45 minutes, though the right length depends on deal size and how much ground needs covering. The goal isn’t to fill the time, it’s to leave with a clear picture of fit and a confirmed next step. If you’ve got what you need in 20 minutes, don’t keep going.

    Should I disqualify prospects on a discovery call?

    Yes, and it’s one of the most valuable things discovery can do. Disqualifying a poor-fit prospect early protects your time and theirs. Ask directly about budget, timeline, and decision-making authority. A clear no is a far better outcome than a lingering maybe that blocks your pipeline for weeks.

  • When to Walk Away From a Deal

    When to Walk Away From a Deal

    The pressure to close a deal has a way of warping your judgement. You’ve spent weeks in calls, exchanged dozens of emails, maybe even flown somewhere for a meeting, and now the thing that matters most is getting it done rather than whether it’s actually any good. That slow drift from evaluating a deal to just finishing it is how most bad agreements get signed.

    Knowing when to walk away isn’t a failure of persistence. It’s one of the most disciplined things you can do in business development, and it’s considerably rarer than it should be.

    The sunk cost problem

    The hardest part isn’t spotting a bad deal. It’s spotting one after you’ve already invested three months in it. Research from Kristina Diekmann at the University of Utah found that what a seller originally paid for something distorts both parties’ expectations in a negotiation, even when that original price has no bearing on the asset’s current value. The same logic applies to time: the six weeks you spent on a partnership proposal don’t make the partnership any better, but they absolutely make you less willing to abandon it.

    Harvard’s Programme on Negotiation makes the point plainly: what’s already spent is gone. Your BATNA, your best alternative to a negotiated agreement, should be weighed against what comes next, not what you’ve already put in. If you don’t have one before you sit down to negotiate, you’re essentially negotiating from hope rather than position, and the other party can usually sense it.

    Signals worth taking seriously

    A counterparty that keeps reverting to initial terms after you’ve agreed to move past them isn’t forgetful. They’re most likely testing how much you’ll absorb rather than genuinely trying to find workable ground. Slow responses and withheld information don’t typically improve once you’re actually working together.

    Terms that chip away at your margins in ways that feel small at first are worth adding up properly. A pricing structure that feels borderline acceptable on day one has a habit of becoming genuinely painful by month six, particularly if the deal ties up resource that could go elsewhere. The question isn’t whether you can tolerate the terms today; it’s whether you’d design them this way if you were starting from scratch.

    Desperation on your side is also a signal, even if it’s an uncomfortable one to notice. Deals made under revenue pressure tend to attract onerous conditions, because the other party can usually tell you need it more than they do. If you find yourself arguing yourself into a deal rather than being genuinely convinced by it, that’s worth pausing on.

    What walking away actually looks like

    It doesn’t have to be dramatic. Being clear about your reasons, keeping the door open, and staying professional costs nothing and occasionally results in better terms coming back the other way once the other party realises you meant it. Burning bridges over a deal you turned down is just a waste.

    The practical discipline is to define your walk-away point before negotiations begin, not during them. When you’re in the room and the pressure is on, your sense of what’s acceptable shifts in ways you don’t always notice. A written note to yourself about minimum acceptable terms, made before any conversation starts, is a genuinely useful thing. It doesn’t need to be a sophisticated document. It just needs to exist.

    And every deal that isn’t right for you is time and attention that isn’t going to one that is. That’s the real cost of staying too long at a table that isn’t working.