One particular job interview has stayed with me for two decades.

It took place during my early transition into the software industry. I’d spent hours refining my CV – carefully detailing my progression, performance metrics and achievements in sales.

It was printed on high-quality paper, slipped into a transparent folder. I was proud of that document. It represented who I was –

or at least who I thought I needed to be to succeed.

The interview was with the UK Head of Sales – a warm, white- haired Irishman with sharp eyes and a disarming smile. As I sat down and handed over the document, he took it, flipped it over without glancing at it and left it face down on the table for the entire hour.

That, in itself, taught me more than any onboarding handbook ever could.

This man wasn’t interested in my metrics. He didn’t care what software I’d sold, or to whom. What mattered to him was who I was – my tone, my posture, my stories, my sense of self. It became clear very quickly that he knew little about the specific software he was asking me to sell. That wasn’t the point. He wanted to know how I levelled up in conversation. How I made someone feel in a room. Whether I could be trusted.

And in doing so, he made me feel seen – not as a resource, but as a person. He didn’t teach me about a product that day. He taught me about connection.

It was the first time in my career that I realised sales isn’t about convincing someone – it’s about becoming someone worth believing.

I left that interview understanding something far more valuable than any feature-benefit framework. I saw that sales, at its core, is about removing the stranger label – and replacing it with trust.

Interviews, especially first-time ones, are one of the rare moments in business where strangers score and review each other – whether consciously or not. HR systems may record that data formally, but we’re all doing it emotionally. We’re constantly evaluating: How did that person make me feel? Would I work with them again? Can I trust them?

So why isn’t this level of mutual evaluation happening across all B2B engagements?

Why is it only formalised in hiring – and not in every deal, meeting, partnership or pitch? That question stuck with me.

By 2005 I had joined NetIQ – and it was there I experienced two moments that would permanently shift my thinking on how to succeed in sales.

The first happened during my induction trip to the US. It was a sales training event that coincided with the company’s annual kick-off. This was my entry into the software world and my first time stepping into the American tech culture – brimming with energy, self-belief and blazer-clad salespeople networking over drinks.

That’s where I met Adam, who had joined the company at the same time as me.

He wasn’t the loudest in the room, but he was magnetic –

engaging everyone with warmth and effortless charm. I stood back and watched him light up every conversation. Where I’d typically hold back to assess the room, Adam leant in. With curiosity. With empathy. He wasn’t ‘working’ the room. He was connecting.

It was a masterclass in engaging with strangers. And it stayed with me.

The second moment came a few months later during a rough patch in my pipeline.

I was grappling with a difficult deal and my confidence was low.

That day, I watched Adam – again – approach a new colleague I had ignored in passing. He offered a warm welcome, started a conversation and treated that newcomer like they mattered. Not because it was good for his quota. Just because it was the right thing to do.

It hit me hard.

If I was going to succeed, I needed to do more than master the pitch. I needed to choose connection – again and again, especially when it wasn’t convenient.

So I made a decision: I would take Adam’s approach and apply it across the entire sales process. I would:

  • Do the things others avoid.
  • Say the things others skip.
  • Connect where others retreat.

Later, when I deepened my understanding of human behaviour, I learnt to apply healthy scepticism too – the ‘I don’t believe you’ mindset – not as a way to doubt others, but as a method to seek truth more honestly.

These lessons became the foundations for my career and later the building blocks of Ethicly.

Because sales doesn’t start with a product. It starts with a person.

And how we treat strangers matters more than we think.

I firmly believe that it’s time for sales leaders and managers to redefine what excellence looks like – especially in the moments that matter most: first meetings, first interviews, first impressions.

The old model, where success is tied solely to numbers, quotas and deal size, is no longer fit for purpose. Today, the most powerful indicators of future success lie in a person’s ability to connect – to ‘level up’ in conversation, to build genuine rapport, to ask meaningful questions and to create trust with a stranger in minutes. These are the micro-moments where human chemistry meets professional potential.

Let’s be honest: anyone can write numbers on a CV. But can they open a conversation that feels like a partnership? Can they ask the kind of questions that invite openness? Can they earn trust early – and then build on it?

If we were to start scoring and reviewing based on human engagement – their ability to build predictable, trust-based interactions – we’d start hiring not just better performers, but better people. That’s the future of leadership.

The best salespeople don’t just sell products – they sell belief.

The belief in themselves, in their values, in their intention to help.

And, critically, in the potential for working together.

And great sales leaders? They don’t just hire talent. They open a door and they say, ‘Let’s see who you really are.’ Sometimes, when you’re curious enough to go beyond the résumé, you meet someone who can change everything –

including your own understanding of what leadership means.

‘Have you played a lot of darts, Ted?’ There’s a beautiful moment in the TV series Ted Lasso that perfectly encapsulates this ethos.

Ted – the affable, relentlessly optimistic American coach – finds himself in a pub, locked in a game of darts with Rupert, the arrogant ex-husband of Ted’s boss, Rebecca. Rupert, in typical fashion, underestimates Ted. But Ted doesn’t confront him with anger or bravado – he uses empathy, story and insight.

As the game unfolds, Ted reflects aloud: You know, Rupert, guys like you have underestimated me my entire life. And for years I never understood why. It used to really bother me.

Holding three darts, needing two triple 20s and a bullseye, Ted continues: But then one day I was driving my little boy to school and I saw this quote by Walt Whitman painted on the wall: Be curious, not judgmental. I like that.

Because if they were curious, they would’ve asked questions. Questions like, “Have you played a lot of darts, Ted?” Ted hits triple 20. Then another. Then the bullseye. Game won.

But the real win isn’t in the score – it’s in the message: Curiosity leads to connection. Judgement ends it before it begins.

And that’s the human truth we forget in sales.

If we approached people with curiosity instead of assumption, with empathy instead of evaluation, we’d make better hires, build better teams and, most importantly, create a more human way of working.

When data tells us ‘only 3% of buyers trust sales reps’, perhaps it’s time to stop judging and start asking: Have you played a lot of darts, Ted?

Rupert underestimates Ted. Why? Because he never takes the time to be curious. He assumes, he judges and he misses what’s right in front of him. Ted, on the other hand, doesn’t flinch. He knows who he is.

As salespeople, how many of us can truly say the same? Do we really know what makes us good at our job? Do we take the time to truly understand the people in front of us?

(And have we played a lot of darts?)

So what makes a salesperson?

Traditionally, sales has been seen as a blunt-force industry.

The only two things required? A thick skin – and a hunger for commission.

Drive, resilience and competitiveness were prized. Persistence was king. You might remember Oliver Stone’s Wall Street, where Bud Fox showed up to Gordon Gekko’s office with flowers and chocolates for the receptionist every day until he secured five minutes with the man himself. It was tenacity theatre – and it worked.

But times have changed.

Yes, extraversion still has its place. Sociability, assertiveness and the ability to spark relationships quickly all remain valuable traits – particularly in high-stakes, fast-moving environments. But the data paints a far more nuanced picture. Extraversion isn’t a guarantee of success. Neither is confidence. Or bravado. Or ‘smash the phones’ energy.

What is emerging is a deeper understanding that self-awareness, empathy and adaptability are often stronger predictors of performance than personality style alone.

If you look at my own personality, you’ll see contradictions.

I’m empathetic and creative. I care deeply about other people – about connection, about impact. But I’m also impatient and controlling. I can move fast – sometimes too fast – and don’t always give people the space they need to show me who they really are.

I’ve always been competitive – sport taught me that. And I’m persistent – like when I worked with a Japanese bank and discovered that in their culture, if you show up to the office they’re obliged to come down and speak with you. So I did. Again.

And again. Until they signed.

But I’m also thin-skinned. I’ve had moments where rejection has hit hard.

And for me, money has never been the biggest motivator. I’m motivated by people. By relationships. By knowing that the work I’ve done has made someone else’s job easier, better, more successful.

That matters to me more than a trip to the President’s Club.

Looking back, I’ve been successful in sales because I have leant into who I am – not who the industry said I should be.

With Ethicly we’re building a platform where people are encouraged to understand their own personalities – not suppress them. Where empathy isn’t just acknowledged – it’s scored. Where reviews, feedback and prompts help us grow into better versions of ourselves.

Ethicly isn’t just about tracking sales performance. It’s about tracking how we show up for each other.

And that includes recognising that, yes – a creative, empathetic person can thrive in sales. In fact, they might just be exactly what the modern sales profession needs most.