Looking back now, I realise every success seeds its own unique set of challenges. After our grand slam with Acme Industries, where we executed a (in my humblest of opinions) flawless Proof of Value (PoV), my approach to selling at Cyberdyne Systems seemed set for a new, revolutionary course. But, as I’ve learned, understanding a concept and applying it correctly are as different as chalk and cheese.

It was a crisp Monday morning when Riley, bursting with the kind of zeal you’d expect from someone who’s just discovered they’ve won the lottery, came barreling into my cubicle. “Max, if we use this PoV strategy of yours right from the start, we could massively reduce our closing times.”

I remember pausing, my tea halfway to my lips, and thinking that Riley’s enthusiasm, while infectious, was about to send us careening down a slippery slope. I’d heard that the timing and strategic application of a PoV were critical. It wasn’t just a sales tactic; it was a precision tool. I was also taken a back a little at the idea that the PoV was my thing.

“Riley, hold up,” I tried to interject. “It’s not just about using a PoV; it’s crucial we understand when it’s the right time to deploy it. It’s tailored, specific…”

But Riley was already a step ahead, planning out loud. “I’ve set up a meeting with Empire Records for next week. Told them we’re ready to showcase how our system can work in their own environment! They agreed, it’s brilliant!”

Riley was off like a cat chasing a laser, full of excitement, but utterly and completely futile. I sat back, a gnawing sense of foreboding settling in. I knew that Riley hadn’t grasped the fine line between a PoV and a Proof of Concept (PoC). A PoC could demonstrate capabilities, sure, but without aligning closely with the client’s values and needs, it risked being just another flashy demo. A PoC is more centric around us, what can we do and what flashy widgets have we got. A PoV was about them, what value can our product could actually deliver.

“Well,” I thought as I finally took a sip of my now lukewarm tea, “at least life at Cyberdyne is never boring. Here we go again.”

By the time the meeting with Empire Records rolled around, I had a sinking feeling in my stomach. Riley’s enthusiasm hadn’t waned; if anything, it had bloomed like a misguided firework. “This is going to set a new standard,” Riley proclaimed as we set up in Empire’s conference room.

As the engagement began, it became increasingly clear to me that what we were doing wasn’t a Proof of Value at all. It was a Proof of Concept: broad, flashy, showcasing all the bells and whistles of our software without honing in on how it specifically aligned with Empire’s strategic goals. We were selling the sizzle, not the steak, and certainly not tailoring the meal to the diner’s taste, which was the whole freaking point of a PoV. I was inwardly despairing and I think it reflected in my delivery a little.

The folks from Empire Records were polite, nodding along, asking a few questions here and there. But I could tell we weren’t really hitting the mark. It was all surface, no depth. The difference between a PoV and a PoC, which I had come to appreciate, lay in that depth, the precise alignment with the client’s needs, which we were blatantly missing.

Halfway through the demo, as Riley enthusiastically highlighted a feature particularly irrelevant to Empire’s operations, I caught a glance from one of their senior techs, a look that said, “Do you really think we’d use that?” It was then I knew we were not just off track; we were off the map. But Riley was all excitement “Show them, go on, show them that thing.” with an excitement I’d not seen since watching my little cousin waiting for Santa.

We’d stepped into that meeting full of confidence like we were dressed for a New York Met Gala, only to realise it was more like a fancy-dress party. Riley hadn’t quite picked up on this though, post-meeting, they were buzzing, oblivious to the undercurrents. “Went great, didn’t it, Max? They loved it!”

I sighed, sipping my fifth coffee of the day, bitter both in taste and irony. “Riley, we need to chat. What we did today … well … it was a just PoC, not a PoV. We’re not really addressing their core needs or showing them the true value of our product in their specific environment.”

The confusion on Riley’s face was almost comical. “It’s just terminology dude! Aren’t they basically the same thing?” they asked, a frown creasing their brow.

I realised then that my work was cut out for me. “Not quite,” I replied. The silence was thick enough to slice, and serve with gravy and potatoes. I didn’t have the heart to burst Riley’s mood though, so I let it slide for now. The moment would come in time I thought, but let them have their misguided moment.

As we left the building, I couldn’t help but feel both frustrated and amused. Here I was, thinking we had a shared understanding, only to find we were speaking different languages. The road ahead was clear; I needed to educate my overly eager colleague, and hopefully salvage what could still be a promising opportunity with Empire Records.

The weeks following our meeting with Empire Records were a stark lesson in humility, especially for Riley. Despite our initial attempts to re-engage and realign our strategy, and hopefully salvage the situation, communication from Empire gradually faded like the last echoes of an out-of-tune guitar with too much reverb. Eventually, we had to face the music: they had ghosted us.

In the silence that followed, Riley seemed to shrink a bit each day. Gone was the buoyant enthusiasm, replaced by a sober reflection that was painful yet necessary. “They completely cut us off, didn’t they?” Riley finally admitted one dreary afternoon, their voice barely above a whisper.

I nodded, not wanting to rub salt in the wound but knowing this was a crucial turning point. “Yeah, they did. It’s a tough pill to swallow. We pushed a PoC when they needed a PoV, and we simply weren’t ready for either! We showed them features when we should have been showing them solutions, specifically, solutions to their problems. We can’t rush through discovery, we need to make sure we’re better aligned with what they care about.”

The lesson was bitter, and it lingered longer because it was learned the hard way. In the following weeks, I took it upon myself to mentor Riley a bit. We revisited the fundamentals of what made a PoV distinct and critical, how it wasn’t just about demonstrating what our product could do in a vacuum but about integrating it into the potential customer’s world, making it indispensable.

“We need to be surgeons, not butchers,” I explained one day over coffee, hoping the analogy would strike a chord. “Precision, not just cuts.”

Riley, humbled and more thoughtful, nodded slowly. Like a cheap energy saving lightbulb turned on in the middle of the night, light slowly dawned on Riley. “I get it now, Max. I think I do. It’s about them, not us. Not our speed, not our flashiness. We’ve got some cool stuff, I get it, but none of that matters if they can’t see themselves getting value out of it. I was just hoping I’d cracked it and was going to be able to start churning out quick sales like I read about on LinkedIn.”

As we struck Empire Records from our forecast, a tough pill indeed. Losing the deal with Empire Records felt like dropping your toast butter-side down, after you’ve just used the last of the butter and the last slice of inner bread. It was just dry crusts now. I penned a few lines in my journal: “Success isn’t just about what you sell, but how and when you sell it. Each failure, each missed note, is just a painful step towards a symphony, if you’re willing to learn the music.”

The characters and scenarios in this story are entirely fictional, but the lessons are as real as they come. As Nelson Mandela once said, “I never lose. I either win or learn.” This tale is a testament to that spirit of learning. While Max and Riley didn’t win the deal with Empire Records, they learned a valuable lesson. Remember, every misstep, is an opportunity to refine your approach and enhance your understanding.