I thought I was building a business. I was really building a posture.
There was a season when every inquiry felt like manna. Not because it was the right client or the right work, but because it was work. It was proof that somebody, somewhere, might pick me. And when I was starting out, that feeling became addictive. I opened my inbox like I was checking the sky for rain, hoping for even one small drop that would tell me, “Okay. This is working.”
So when a message came in, I didn’t qualify it. I didn’t test for seriousness. I didn’t ask what decision they needed to make. I caught it fast, said yes quickly, and called it gratitude—when what I was really doing was running from the fear of being ignored.
Have you been there?
That season when you treat every request like an emergency. When every meeting invite feels like a test. When every inquiry feels like something you can’t afford to lose. You call it responsiveness. You call it being hands-on. You call it humility. But if you’re honest, it’s not always leadership.
Sometimes it’s fear wearing a suit.
The hidden posture behind “yes”
Looking back, I wasn’t chasing clients. I was chasing permission.
I wanted someone to choose me so I could finally feel legitimate. That posture shaped how I priced, how I proposed, how I wrote, how I introduced myself. I kept adjusting so nobody would reject me, because rejection felt like danger.
If you’re a CEO, this might show up differently. You don’t beg for clients the way a freelancer does, but you can still beg in quieter ways. You can beg for approval from the board, beg for validation from the market, beg for love from customers, beg for attention from investors. You can say yes to everything—projects, meetings, partnerships, requests—then wonder why your strategy feels diluted and your life feels like a sprint you never volunteered for.
The posture is the same: “Choose me.”
The scene that exposed the truth
I learned this in the most awkward way—by speaking for free in schools.
I would arrive early, because I wanted to be professional. Then I’d sit in a corner, waiting for my slot. People walked past me like I was part of the venue. No one asked what I do. No one checked if I needed anything. Sometimes I wondered if they even remembered my name.
Then I’d deliver the talk, take the photo, hear the applause, and go home.
I told myself, “It’s for the students. It’s planting seeds.”
But inside, I felt invisible.
Now contrast that with paid work. When clients paid well, they didn’t just pay the fee. They treated me like a VIP. Someone fetched me. Someone prepared what I needed. They handed me certificates and gifts on top of my professional fee. More than that, they listened. They participated. They practiced. They followed up after.
That contrast taught me something every leader needs to remember: people don’t just pay with money. They pay with attention.
I trained the market to treat me cheaply
For a while, I blamed “cheap clients.” I blamed the market. I blamed organizations that negotiated too hard or wanted too much for too little. Then clarity arrived, and it stung because it was true: it wasn’t their fault.
It was mine.
I broadcasted a message that invited them in. I signaled, “I’m available. I’m flexible. I can do anything.” So I attracted people who wanted “anything” for as little as possible. I trained the market to treat me like a commodity before I ever said my price.
And the pattern holds inside organizations too. The people who don’t see your value make life difficult for you. They question everything. They demand more. They delay decisions. They turn simple things into problems. Meanwhile, the people who value what you do make the work lighter. They listen, participate, practice, and move with you.
Leaders don’t drown because they lack talent.
They drown because they spend attention in the wrong places.
Always Be the Buyer
That’s when I stopped chasing visibility. I stopped trying to be for everyone. I started choosing.
Here’s the shift in four words: Always Be the Buyer.
A seller waits to be chosen. A seller reacts. A seller keeps proving. A seller keeps adjusting.
A buyer chooses where to spend time, energy, and attention. A buyer qualifies. A buyer rejects what drains the mission. A buyer protects standards, because standards shape strategy.
This isn’t arrogance. This is leadership.
Because strategy is not what you say you want. Strategy is what you keep choosing with your calendar.
Fewer eyeballs, better clients
When I started acting like a buyer, I changed my message. I stopped writing for “everyone who needs training” and started writing for CEOs who needed strategic clarity, focus, and decisions that would help them win. I accepted that I would get fewer eyeballs and fewer inquiries, because I wasn’t fishing anymore—I was filtering.
The result was quieter, but cleaner. The room had fewer people, but the people inside were serious. They didn’t ask for freebies. They asked for outcomes. They didn’t ask me to perform. They asked me to think with them.
That’s what happens when you choose your audience with courage. You stop being visible to everyone and start becoming obvious to the right people.
From “Choose me” to “I choose.”
If the old posture is “Choose me,” the new posture is simple: “I choose.”
I choose who gets my best thinking. I choose what deserves my calendar. I choose which conversations I will enter—and which ones I will stop entertaining. Because begging doesn’t always look like begging. Sometimes it looks like being “available.” Sometimes it looks like replying fast, adjusting endlessly, and proving your worth to people who will never value it.
That’s not leadership.
That’s auditioning.
So here’s the win you can claim today: stop waiting to be chosen, and start choosing where you will be valuable. Stop spending your attention like loose change, and start spending it like capital. Stop chasing the people who don’t see your value, and start building trust with the people who do.
Yes, the tradeoff is real. You will get fewer inquiries. Fewer invitations. Less applause from the crowd. But you’ll gain alignment, respect, and clean conversations with serious people who listen, participate, decide, and follow through.
And you’ll feel the difference the moment you walk into the room. No more sitting in the corner, waiting for your turn like a spare part. You become the person they prepared for, because they know why you’re there.
the Buyer Pause + one brave decision
Before you say yes to anything today—an inquiry, a meeting, a request—pause long enough to ask three questions. Not to be dramatic. Just to be honest.
First: Does this deserve my attention, or is it just asking for my availability?
Second: If I say yes, will this make me more obvious to the clients I want—or more visible to the clients I don’t?
Third: What will this “yes” cost me tomorrow? Not just time. Energy. Focus. Clarity.
Then make one brave buyer decision.
Say no to one thing that drains you. Tighten one message so it speaks to the leader you want to serve. Raise one standard in how people access you. Choose one conversation where you stop proving and start qualifying.
Because transformation doesn’t happen when the world finally chooses you.
Transformation happens when you stop whispering “Choose me,” and you start living the sentence: “I choose.”
No posts
