Selling Dreams and Moving Units” is a fiction series about the realities of sales—based on stories from the trenches, where strategy meets instinct and where the best salespeople break all the rules. This is the first installment: “Clashing of Titans: Change vs. The Champ.
Every sales team has that guy. The veteran. The old-school closer who’s seen it all, sold it all, and doesn’t give a damn about your new sales strategies. You don’t manage them—you survive them.
Frank was that guy.
I walked in young, ambitious, and ready to optimize. I had the title. I had the authority. I had a vision for sales leadership—policy, structure, strategic initiatives. I was here to build a dream team, to bring sales success through high-performance sales strategies.
Frank?
Frank wasn’t having any of it.
“You don’t know who I am,” he said to me on my first day, arms crossed, standing next to a high-end refrigerator like it was his personal kingdom. “I’m the champ.”
And damn it, he was.
He had been the top salesman for years, dominating high-ticket sales like it was second nature. If the store had a Mount Rushmore of retail sales professionals, his face would’ve been carved into it four times over. And here I was, marching in with my sales coaching playbook, talking about change.
I was the ambassador of change.
Frank was the embodiment of consistency.
We had monthly one-on-ones, just like the company required. I’d walk in with an agenda, sit down, and start running through sales metrics and sales psychology strategies we were expected to implement. Frank would let me talk. He’d nod. He’d listen.
And when I was done?
“That’s nice. But next bonus? I’m going for the best.”
Every. Single. Time.
“Frank, we need to focus on increasing service plan attachment rates.”
“Sure. But I’m still gonna be the best.”
“Frank, we need to improve the upsell numbers on premium appliances.”
“That’s nice. I’ll still be the best.”
At first, it pissed me off. It felt like I was talking to a high-performing sales robot—one that had mastered the game and had zero interest in leadership development or my carefully crafted sales frameworks.
But the thing is?
Frank always hit his numbers. He was the store’s shining star, consistently leading in customer relationships and closing deals.
And then something started to shift.
The Turning Point: Sales Leadership Isn’t Just About Change
I started noticing that, for all his pushback, Frank had my back. When corporate executives came through, he spoke well of me. Talked me up. Made sure I looked like I had things under control.
He never made me look bad.
He didn’t have to respect my position—but in his own way, he did.
That’s when I started listening to him.
Outside of sales, Frank had stories—real-life experience. Not just in selling but in RVing, camping, hiking. One day, he suggested a hiking spot to me. I took him up on it, only to find out the hard way that the trail had designated days—some for bikers, some for hikers.
I, of course, showed up on bike day.
I spent half the afternoon dodging mountain bikers whipping down the trail at 30 miles per hour. When I came back, I gave him hell for it.
“Great spot, Frank. You trying to get me run over?”
He just grinned. “Keeps you on your toes.”
A few months later, I went back—on a hiker day this time. And you know what?
It was a damn good spot.
Sales Psychology: Reading People Like a Book
What really set Frank apart wasn’t just his experience—it was his instincts.
We’d have these in-aisle coaching chats during slow hours, where he’d drop little nuggets of sales wisdom.
“People don’t always tell you what’s really holding them back,” he told me once, leaning on a fridge like it was a bar counter. “But they always show you.”
And he was right.
He knew how to read customers before they ever spoke a word. He could pick up on the hesitation in their body language, the way they glanced toward the exit, the nervous shuffle of their feet.
“They wanna leave,” he’d say.
“How do you know?” I asked.
“Watch their hands. Watch their feet. They’re looking for an excuse.”
And then? He’d call it out.
“You need to check the competition, right? Gotta make sure you’re getting the best deal?”
The customer would blink, caught off guard.
“Uh… yeah, I was thinking about it.”
“Go for it,” he’d say, totally unbothered. “You’ll find X, Y, and Z over there. But this? This is the best deal. So when you come back, we’ll get you taken care of.”
And they always came back.
To be honest, I bet most of them never even checked the competition. They probably just sat in their cars thinking, Damn, he’s probably right. Is it even worth the time? The ones who actually made the trip would return, shaking their heads, almost impressed at how accurately Frank had predicted their experience.
“You were right.”
Frank would just nod, like that was the most obvious thing in the world. Because to him, it was.
Sales Success: What I Learned from Frank
Frank wasn’t just a salesman—he was a master of human psychology. He didn’t push customers. He led them. He didn’t need to manipulate. He just understood them.
And eventually, I realized something.
People don’t go to work for a company.
They go to work for people.
They want to feel valued. They want to feel trusted. They want to feel like what they do matters.
I came in thinking sales coaching was about optimizing processes and implementing sales frameworks.
But what really makes a sales floor successful?
People like Frank.
People who don’t just sell, but who build something.
Trust. Relationships.
At some point, I stopped trying to force change and started watching. Started listening.
I became a champion for my team, instead of just a manager.
And the biggest lesson I learned?
Sometimes, you just need to get out of the way.
In sales, you meet a lot of people. Some fade into the background. Others leave a mark. Frank was one of those guys—the kind of guy who could sell anything to anyone, but did it his way. This is the first story in a new series, Selling Dreams and Moving Units. It’s fiction. Mostly.