The Secret Every Founder Knows But Won’t Admit
Save this. Don’t share it. Yet.
Listen. We need to talk.
You know that feeling when you’re pitching and the room goes quiet? Not good quiet. Dead quiet. Like you just told them your conversion rates are “pretty decent” and your churn is “manageable.”
Yeah. That feeling.
Here’s what nobody tells you about being a founder: Everyone’s pretending. The investors, the customers, even that smug git from TechCrunch. They’re all winging it, hoping someone else knows what they’re doing.
(Spoiler: Nobody does. But some of us are better at the game.)
Never show all your cards at once
Your biggest mistake? Explaining everything upfront. The full product roadmap. Every feature. All the integrations. Stop it.
Give them one beautiful thing that solves one painful problem. Make them ask for more. Curiosity is currency. Desperation is debt.
I learned this watching Netflix. They don’t tell you how House of Cards ends in the trailer. They show you Kevin Spacey looking evil. You’re hooked. You subscribe.
(Before he went… well, you know.)
Let them think it was their idea
Best sales call I ever had? Didn’t sell anything. Asked questions. Lots of them.
“What would happen if you could cut your admin time by 80%?”
“How would that change your Fridays?”
“What would you do with those extra hours?”
By the end, they were designing our solution for us. Signed the contract. Thanked us for listening.
(Sometimes I feel bad about how easy this is. Then I check my bank balance.)
Show weakness to gain strength
This one feels backwards. But here’s the secret: perfect companies are scary. Human companies are buyable.
Your about page shouldn’t read like you’ve never made a mistake. Tell them about the time you hired the wrong person. The feature that flopped. The pivot that saved you.
Vulnerability is the cheat code nobody talks about.
Control the timing, control everything
You know what kills deals? Desperation. The moment they smell “please sign this, I need to make rent,” you’re done.
Create artificial deadlines that benefit them:
“The onboarding slots for Q1 close next Friday.”
“We’re capping beta access at 50 companies.”
“After March, this price goes up 40%.”
Not lies. Strategy. There’s a difference.
(I tell myself this while crying into my profit margins.)
Make them work for it
Free trials are for cowards. Make them apply. Interview them. Reject some people.
“Sorry, but your use case isn’t quite right for our platform.”
“We only work with companies doing £2M+ revenue.”
“Let me check if we have capacity…”
Suddenly your product isn’t a commodity. It’s a privilege.
The person who cares least, wins
Hardest lesson I ever learned. The moment you need their business more than they need your solution, you’ve lost.
Always have other options. Other deals. Other conversations. Not just for negotiation: for sanity.
Desperation smells like cheap aftershave. Everyone notices.
Speak to the person who signs the cheques
Stop pitching to the person who “influences the decision.” Find the budget holder. Bypass the gatekeepers. Go straight to the top.
“Hi [CEO name], quick question about your customer acquisition costs…”
Half will ignore you. Half will take the meeting. That’s better odds than most founders get.
(And yes, this works on LinkedIn. Shocking, I know.)
Everything is positioning
Your logo. Your pricing. Your email signature. The coffee you serve in meetings. Everything sends a signal.
£99/month = amateur hour
£997/month = serious business
£2,997/month = enterprise solution
Same product. Different signal. Different buyer. Different bank balance.
Problems are more valuable than solutions
Stop selling features. Start selling problems.
“Your customer acquisition cost is £300 and rising.”
“Your top performer just handed in their notice.”
“Your biggest competitor just raised £50M.”
Make them feel the pain. Then offer the painkiller.
Master the pause
After you ask for the sale, shut up. First person to speak loses.
“So, shall we get started with the implementation?”
[Silence]
Count to ten. Let them wrestle with their own objections. Most people can’t handle silence. They’ll fill it with “yes.”
(I’ve closed deals in the gap between heartbeats.)
The Underground Playbook:
Monday morning:
Send one uncomfortable truth to your list.
Tuesday afternoon:
Share one genuine mistake on LinkedIn.
Wednesday evening:
DM three prospects with one specific problem observation.
Thursday midday:
Post one contrarian opinion that makes people think.
Friday close: Follow up with everyone who engaged. No pitch. Just conversation.
The weapons they don’t teach in business school:
- Scarcity beats features
- Questions beat answers
- Timing beats persistence
- Status beats savings
- Problems beat solutions
- Silence beats selling
But here’s the real secret…
None of this matters if your product is shit.
You can’t position your way out of building something nobody wants. You can’t story tell your way past terrible user experience. You can’t influence your way to product-market fit.
But once you’ve built something that matters? These rules turn founders into legends.
(And legends into exit stories.)
Your homework:
Pick one rule. Use it this week. Watch what happens.
Don’t tell anyone where you learned it.
Some advantages work better in shadows.
Save this post. Delete your browser history. Get back to building.
The game is rigged in favour of those who understand the rules.
Now you do.
P.S. - If this helped, don’t thank me. Just remember me when you’re announcing your Series B.
