The Sales Hustle in Overdrive- Who’s Got Your Rope?

Sales isn’t glamorous. It’s back-to-back calls, cold calls, and hearing “no” so much you start humming it in your sleep ;-) and quotas that laugh in your face. But I’ve got this fire—grit that keeps me swinging, resilience that drags me back up. Everyone sees the wins: the big commission, the handshake that seals it. They think I’m some lone warrior who cracked the code. Nah. That fire? It’s fed by people who’ve kept it burning when I was ready to quit. I’m still here, but it’s not magic. It’s a high-wire act, and I’d be flat on my face without the crew keeping me steady.

My kids— Kavya Kowtha , and Dhiya Kowtha —they’re the pulse of this chaos. Grown now, they don’t get enough of me, and it cuts deep. I’m mid-call, pacing the living room, headset on, when they pop in. “Heading out for dinner with the crew—cool?” Kavya asks, grabbing her jacket. I’m on the team call —quick head nod, muted “go for it.” Dhiya leans in, “Dinner together tonight, or are you swamped?” I’m prepping for client call—one finger up, “not yet.” “Can I take the car for a quick run?” Dhiya again, pushing her luck—sharp “no” glance over my laptop. They shrug, head out, waiting for the slivers of my time between my calls. Their sacrifice isn’t kid stuff anymore—it’s letting me chase this fire, and it’s the quiet spark that keeps me swinging.

My best friend Sujatha Gopal and husband are my lifelines. From the start of my sales career to now, I’ve been a mess—botching pitches back then, battling quotas today, always some fresh chaos. She’s never in the fray, but when I vent about quitting, she snaps, ‘You’re not selling junk, you’re selling their win. Tough it out.’ He’s right there too, nodding, ‘You’ve got this—don’t let ‘em see you sweat.’ Her no-nonsense pulls me back, his calm keeps me steady—been that way since day one. These days, it’s James A. I lean on most—hours spent bouncing ideas, learning from him, cooking up strategies to crack customer problems together. Every win? Sujatha smirks, ‘Told you, quitter,’ my husband grins, and James just says, ‘We Nailed it.’ They’re the triple shove keeping me in the fight.

And my mentors? They’re the edges I didn’t know I needed—a pack of sales vets who turned my raw hunger into something with teeth. One saw me flailing at a trade show, snapped, “You’ve got spark, but no aim,” and drilled me through mock pitches till my nerves quit shaking. Another, all calm and steel, caught my frantic pitch and said, “Slow down, feel the room,” forcing me to redo it till I owned the silence. Then there was the wildcard who growled, “Failure’s your fuel—use it,” Their critiques stung—barbs, quiet cuts, brutal rewrites—but when I flipped my first “no” to a “yes,” they nodded like it was inevitable. Failure wasn’t a wall with them; it was a launchpad, gas in the tank. Truth is, success in sales—or anything— isn’t a solo sprint. It’s a relay race, and you don’t win without a team passing the baton.

My village? Too many MVPs to count— Khannan Sankaran Joan Genn Padman Ramankutty Sameer Ranabhor Nidhi Wadmark Gans Subramaniam Sivarajah Ramanathan Caldwell Velnambi Anita Manwani Clint Buytenhuys Valerie Bennett

Sachin Mathews The list could crash a CRM.

The wins shine—fat bonuses, fist bumps. But the real story’s in the dents: nights I miss Kavya’s late-night debriefs or Dhiya’s latest project, deals that crash and burn, the time I blanked mid-presentation and faked a cough to recover. Through it, my kids wait for that one “go ahead” nod, my friend’s texting “you’ve got this,” and those mentors’ lessons echo in my skull. They don’t just clap for the highs—they shoulder the flops.

I’m not some sales legend who bootstrapped this alone. I’m a mom stretched thin, a friend who leans on the real ones, a hustler shaped by the sharpest. Kavya and Dhiya sacrifice real time with me, my friend gives me her backbone, my mentors gave me bite. That’s the grit that sticks.

So, who’s holding your line when the hustle’s brutal? Shout them out. They’re the reason you don’t break.