Failure is a bitch. A painful bitch. A bitch that will beat you up and make your entire life feel sour.
Talk about a sombre start to an article right guys?
Well I lost a sale yesterday. One which looked a sure thing. One where after initially quoting a mammoth fee of £930 every four weeks – being told it was too much – then asking what budget could he do – and him responding with £500 – I thought “fuck it, if he says £500 then that’s the minimum I can get*”.
So I pushed for more. Initially £760 – then £640 – then £600 – and stood firm at £600. Now there’s nothing wrong with that, but I handled it wrong. I lost my cool, and let my aura slip into that of a pressuring salesman. In doing so sort of tarnished the relationship and trust I had created.
There was a different air between us after I let this happen. He was polite and said he’d have to talk it over with his wife (I still don’t fully know how to handle that one). Anyway, he came back, said it was too much, but still wanted it. He asked if there was something else we could do. I fired back with a hugely reduced offering of services on my part for £520 – and made it my final offer.
Him, polite as always, explained how he couldn’t do it. I had lost the sale. Had I played it better I would have nabbed it.
How I came off yesterday
So at this point you may be thinking this is an article where I’m beating myself up. One where I’m pissed off at myself and if I could go back in time I’d do things differently.
Well DUH! Obviously if I could go back I’d do things differently. I could probably write out a long list of reasons where I fucked things up – but I’ll save that for another time.
But I’m not mad at myself. I went for broke. I went for more. Something inside me said I could do it. And I went for it… and failed…
Sadly sometimes you fuck things up. But hey, that’s the only way you get more in life.
The average market rate for what I do is £24 per hour – I charge between £100 and £200 per hour (this depends on whatever I think I can get). And I got to this point by pushing the boat many times – and yep a few times I fucked up a sure-thing completely. That’s life.
The problem is that when this happens you can’t help but feel shit.
You begin to doubt your whole ability. You beat yourself up, replay the whole thing in your head, and mull on how you should have done this or that**. And generally a world of glum comes over your life where you begin to doubt the craziest things. There are few things more haunting and painful to the untrained mind than a near-miss you really wanted.
Bugs knows how I feel
Ever tried to seduce a gorgeous girl, and screwed it up because you escalated too hard?
Ever went for a job interview for the “job of your dreams” wanted and decided to deviate from your planned answer because your gut and passion said so?
Ever missed the winning shot for something by taking a glory shot, because something inside said you could make it?
Ever found yourself one sword-strike away from defeating the mighty Ganon in the Legend of Zelda, decided to go for a low-odds attack to put the bastard in his place, only to miss and realise an agonising sharp pain shoot up your rectum just moments after you hear the thud of Ganon’s mighty hips thrust into your glutes as your realise he’s just butt-fucked you?
Everyone knows what I’m talking about. There are few feelings in this world more painful.
Before I lost that sale I was in a great mood. I had recently closed a £150 per hour, and a £200 per hour. I was thinking about the possibilities of what I could do next. And here was another on its way – I felt invincible, I had a set formula that was working a charm. My whole outlook was lovely, and the sky was the limit.
Then – BANG BANG – he shot me down….
And my whole outlook changed. All that positivity dissipated. And those £150 and £200 client now seem like lucky flukes. Shitty thoughts pervade my head – “maybe I should lower my targets” – “maybe I’m not as good as I thought” – “is this even what I want?”
I begin to doubt my dreams, my chances, and myself. It’s a miserable feeling man…
Failure can hurt. No, failure ALWAYS hurts. And hurts like a bee-sting to the testicles. Intense and tear-inducing. And when it’s bad you doubt EVERYTHING.
But remember friends there are only two people in this world. The first look at the statistics and think about the odds. They stick to the script. They know how stupid and bull-headed you need to be to think you can pull of a life us fools dream about. In a way they’re far smarter than us.
The second is where we fall. We see that same statistics, know how unlikely we are to ever defy them, yet we like the arrogant bastards we are, actually have the audacity to think we’re special! We believe, despite the endless mental knocks and bruises we encounter along the way, that for some ridiculous reason think we can do it.
We endure a lot more pain than the others. But we also experience more highs. Never forget the times we succeed. These are sweeter than nectar. These are what the others will never taste. And furthermore these accumulate. They change your entire being.
I am no longer the same guy who left his job 30 months ago. I am better in every way. And will only continue to get better. Think about where you were, and where you are now. Think objectively and you’ll realise the same.
I wish I could say that we’ll achieve our dreams. Unfortunately the statistics say we can’t all make it. I dunno about you, but I’ll make it. Don’t ask me why. Something inside me says I’m special…
Bugs never gave up!
(Never stop dreaming my friends. Never.)
*This four week fee consists of me only working one week an hour – this £500 every four week fee is really £125 per hour. It was mine for the taking guys.
**This does pass by the way. I no longer do it. I’ve realised that me pushing the limits – often excessively – is what leads to unexpected success. I’ve learnt to accept the failure – and so will you. But yes there was a time this used to kill me.
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