Welcome back to our "ABCs of Sales" series. We’ve talked about A for Acceptance, C for Communication, and K for Kindness.
But today, we’re tackling perhaps the most painful letter in the alphabet. It’s the letter that went against every instinct I had as a hungry, new Business Executive. It’s the letter that required me to stop running and finally take a breath.
L is for Letting Go.
When I was new to media sales, every lead felt like gold dust. I felt a desperate need to clutch onto every potential conversation because I feared that if I let one drop, my pipeline would dry up forever.
But the paradox of sales is this: sometimes, the only way to grow your revenue is to shrink your prospect list.
The Ballad of Me and "The Whale"
I had been in media sales for exactly nine months. I was smart, I knew our audience demographics inside and out (I’d nailed "B for Business Acumen"), and my enthusiasm was infectious.
In my tenth month, I snagged a meeting with OmniCorp—a massive regional brand. In sales speak, this was a "whale." Landing the OmniCorp ad budget wouldn't just make my month; it would make my entire year.
My contact at OmniCorp was Spencer. Spencer was nice. He was polite. He always took my calls, and he always seemed interested. But Spencer had a habit. He loved "testing the waters."
"Oh, the proposal looks promising," Spencer would say. "But before I sign the Insertion Order (IO), could you maybe get our press release featured on your digital channel? Just to show my boss the engagement potential?"
I was eager to please. "Sure, Spencer! I can pull some strings with the editorial team."
I got him the coverage. He got thousands of eyeballs for free.
I called him the next week to finalize the contract.
"Ah, thanks for that feature, it looked great!" he said. "We're so close to signing off on the paid campaign. But, hey, we have a charity event this weekend. Any chance you could give us a few shout-outs on air? If we see good foot traffic, I can definitely unlock the Q4 budget."
I hesitated, but then I thought of the commission check. I went back to my production team and begged for the favor. I got him the shout-outs.
This dance continued for six weeks.
I became obsessed. I stopped prospecting for new advertisers because I was "managing the OmniCorp relationship." I blew off smaller, ready-to-buy clients because they weren't as prestigious as the whale. My entire emotional state was dictated by whether or not Spencer liked the free publicity I was spoon-feeding him.
My Business manager, Sarah, watched this happen. She’d seen it a hundred times before. She eventually called me into her office.
"Talk to me about OmniCorp," she said.
I lit up immediately. "It’s SO close, Sarah. Spencer really loves our reach. I just need to get him one more interview segment, and I think we’re there."
Sarah looked at the data on her screen. "You have had 14 touchpoints with Spencer in 45 days. You have given him two digital articles, three on-air mentions, and a newsletter feature. Total value: $15,000. How much has he paid us?"
I deflated. "Well... nothing yet. But he hasn't said 'no', either!"
"He hasn't said no because you are giving him the milk for free," Sarah said gently. "He is using you for free PR. The slow 'maybe' will kill your career faster than a quick 'no'."
She leaned forward. "You are clinging to Spencer because you are afraid there is nobody else out there. You aren't selling anymore; you're being taken advantage of. You have to let him go."
The Breakup Email
I felt sick. Let go of the whale? After all that effort? It felt like setting money on fire.
"How?" I asked.
"Send him a 'breakup email'," Sarah instructed. "Be professional, call his bluff on the inventory, and take it away from him."
With trembling fingers, I typed the email Sarah dictated:
Hi Marcus,
I’ve enjoyed supporting OmniCorp with some initial coverage over the last few months to demonstrate our value. However, it seems like now isn’t the right time for your team to commit to a formal media schedule.
I’m going to release the inventory dates I was holding for you so I can offer them to other partners. I'm closing your file for now, but if you have a signed budget approved in the future, please feel free to reach out.
Best, Eva
I hovered over the send button for a full minute. Hitting send felt like admitting defeat. It felt scary.
I clicked send.
The Space to Grow
Nothing happened. Spencer didn't immediately call back with a signed contract. The silence was deafening.
But the next morning, something strange happened. I woke up feeling... lighter.
I didn't have to spend hours begging my editors for favors or agonizing over Spencer's next demand. I didn't have that knot of anxiety in my stomach.
Suddenly, I had five extra hours in my week.
I used that time to call a list of smaller, less glamorous leads I had ignored during my OmniCorp obsession. One of them, a local furniture retailer, picked up the phone.
"Actually, your timing is perfect," the owner said. "We have a massive clearance sale coming up and I need to move inventory. Can you get a radio and social campaign live by Friday?"
Two days later, I closed the furniture deal. It wasn't a "whale," but it was real revenue. It was a paid invoice, not a promise.
By letting go of the freelancer who was dragging me down, I created the space to find the real advertisers who were waiting for me.
The Lesson for Rookies
When you are starting out, "Letting Go" doesn't mean you give up easily. You absolutely need persistence.
But you must learn the difference between persistence (professionally pursuing a qualified opportunity) and desperation (giving away your product to someone who isn't ready to buy because you are afraid to look elsewhere).
L is for Letting Go because:
Your inventory has value. Every time you give away exposure for free, you teach the client that your product is worth $0.
Clinginess smells like desperation. Clients can sense when you need the deal too much. It lowers your status from "Consultant" to "Beggar."
A fast "no" is a gift. It frees you to move on. The slow, agonizing "we're thinking about it" (while asking for more favors) is torture.
Don't be like the early-days version of me. Don’t let a whale drag you to the bottom of the ocean. If the prospect is stalling, hiding, or asking for freebies endlessly, be brave enough to send the breakup email.
Let go of the dead weight so you can swim toward the real opportunities.
0 Comments