My client was a significant player in the pharmaceutical business. The account was transitioned to me after the account executive covering the client moved on to another company. The relationship with the customer wasn’t in the best shape. This was made abundantly clear when the company’s chief information officer (CIO), well known for dressing down his vendors with harsh words, didn’t spare me a good tongue-lashing in our first meeting. 

He made sure I knew that our software was dated and too expensive and that our primary competition had landed a significant position in the firm. Other than giving me the sinking feeling that I had no chance to sell anything to this awesome new client, the conversation went surprisingly well overall. I learned a few important things about this CIO, including that his path to his current position began in the academic world, with a Ph.D. in computer science. 

Stop Talking, Start Listening

One of my questions to the CIO got him pontificating for quite a while. Besides saying “I agree,” “I see,” “yes” and many “hmms,” I didn’t put a sentence together the entire time. It seemed to surprise him and lifted his view of me from a peasant sales guy to a student to whom he could impart his vast store of knowledge. The guy could be a raging asshole, but given the right topics, he was quite willing to engage in cerebral conversations.

The shine of optimism fell off this client opportunity pretty quickly, though. He wasn’t a happy camper. But as I dug in, did some research and learned more about how we were performing for the company, a much clearer picture came into view. It wasn’t that our software was performing poorly; it was the lack of attention my predecessor gave the CIO that was the root of the issue.

A Critical Request

I managed to squeeze off one important question before exiting the CIO’s office at that first meeting. I explained that to provide the level of attention our projects required, I needed a security badge to move freely through the facility. He pointed to his assistant’s desk, who got the process started.

Rarely did a week pass when I didn’t spend at least a full day at my client’s facility. My network of contacts expanded in both the technology and business groups. I became part of the client team. They seemed to include me in every conversation. After about six months, we got an additional order for more licenses. Things were going very well, and my relationship with the CIO grew stronger with each encounter at the client facility. He saw that I was there to help and listen.

My ability to move around the client’s campus resulted in my being pulled into meetings where I wasn’t previously scheduled. Often, the meetings had nothing to do with my company’s software, and I started to think that maybe the client forgot I was a vendor because they treated me like an employee. 

One of those meetings, with the chief legal counsel and her staff, was very relevant to what our software could do for the client. The chief counsel was the business sponsor for a very significant project that she wanted to begin implementing within three months. After weeks of assessment work, demonstrations, meetings, and many ad hoc conversations, it looked certain that this deal was mine to win. In fact, the business sponsor told me she was going with my software. You never want to celebrate before the deal is inked, but I definitely did a little Snoopy dance because this deal would put me over my goal for the year.

Then, the Bad News

I’d just shared the good news with my manager and told him this deal was in the bag for the current quarter. Then, I got an email from the project business sponsor to stop by her office the next time I was at the facility. I dropped what I was doing and raced over. The news she delivered hit me like a punch to the nose. 

“We’re not going with your software, David.” 

She explained that it wasn’t ultimately her decision. They were going with my competitor per the direction of the CIO. In most companies, the business folks own the budget and typically get what they want, just not in this case.

It took about a week before I could get a conversation with the professorial CIO. 

“Why did you override the decision?” I asked. 

His answer was hard to argue. There was no doubt that my competitor’s software was better designed to solve the problem, but we’d shown we could solve the problem too. More importantly, the sponsor had selected my company. 

“David, you should have come by and talked to me about this project. I would have told you I wasn’t using your software,” he said, shutting me down entirely.

The CIO did an about-face and walked away. The scene felt like several conversations I had with my college professors after I’d said something quite stupid. In fact, I had been stupid. Getting concurrence from the technology side of the house made total sense, and I hadn’t done that. 

In all fairness, it’s not as if I hadn’t tried to visit with the CIO at least four times during the sales process, but he was always out of the office or not available.

Now I had to explain to my manager and his manager why my deal was no longer in the bag for the quarter or any future quarter. This was not a comfortable discussion, but the truth about what happened seemed to defuse an explosive situation. 

Regardless, telling my associates and the partner who was helping me that I’d just wasted about eight weeks of their time was not a pleasant task.

What to Learn from this Deal

I was at my client’s facility so often they considered me an employee. The ease of navigation throughout their organization gave me the inside track to win this deal. Instead of leveraging my insider advantage I wasted my time and the time of many other people. 

The business sponsor telling me not to worry in the early stages of the sale clouded my view of all the dots that needed to be connected to really get this deal closed. Yes, I did try to contact the CIO to let him know what we were doing, but I really didn’t insist that he talk to me. I committed one of the cardinal sins of selling — making assumptions. Assuming the deal was mine without triangulating with all of the critical players was my downfall. 

This was an extremely painful lesson to learn. 

As my relationship grew with the CIO, he shared a piece of information that’s important to remember. 

“I spent almost $2 million with your company, and it was my decision to buy the software. I expect the right level of attention.” 

He explained that he simply expected a summary update on all that was important at my company, my software and how it could impact his decisions in the future. Six-figure capital-investment decisions are very important to the sponsors, no matter their rank or how long ago the purchase was made. 

The failed deal didn’t doom my relationship with the CIO. The opportunity to work with him and his peers at this company have proven invaluable in similar interactions with other company’s executive staff. I also learned that he liked a good cabernet sauvignon; I delivered many bottles during our relationship.