Author: Garth Beyer

Here’s a mind-bender for your next GTM meeting: your buyer stages aren’t about you. They’re not about your AE’s cadence, your BDR’s meeting count, or your CRO’s pipeline waterfall slides.

They’re about what your champion does.

Not the prospect company. Not the buyer persona. The actual human—yes, that one—who’s sticking their neck out inside their org to get your deal across the line.

That person is the real seller. You’re just their arms dealer.

Yet too many go-to-market teams still define buyer stages based on internal actions. “We did the demo.” “We sent pricing.” “We built a mutual action plan.”

Yawn.

The real progression lives in what your champion does next:

• They loop in procurement → now you’re in business.
• They forward your deck to the CFO with a personal note → that’s a buying signal.
• They fight the internal battle on your behalf when you’re not in the room → that’s the real proposal stage.

Want better forecasting? Want less slippage? Want marketing and product to actually align?

Then flip the telescope. Map your stages to champion behavior:

• Did they ask for internal enablement materials?
• Did they escalate urgency up the ladder?
• Did they invite you to the real decision-making meeting?

Your GTM isn’t a story of what you’re doing to move deals forward. It’s a story of what your champion is risking, revealing, or rallying to make the deal happen.

You’re not selling. They are.

So build your stages around them—their actions, their risks, their hero’s journey.

And then? Help them win it.

Stay Positive & Your Champion Is The Real Closer

“Customer-obsessed” sounds like a badge you slap on your LinkedIn profile when you’re trying to win buzzword bingo. But let’s call it what it really needs to be: falling in love with their problem.

Not like “first-date butterflies” love. I mean the “keep-you-up-at-night, I-must-understand-this-from-the-inside-out” kind of love.

Here’s how to do that without losing your mind—or your margins:

1. Visit Their World

Don’t just read their emails. Walk their factory floor. Sit in on their meetings. Work their tools. Observe where the friction lives. If they’re a bar owner, sling pints on a Saturday night. If they’re a logistics manager, ride along for a delivery. You can’t love what you don’t truly know.

2. Ruthlessly Remove Friction

If it takes them seven clicks to do what should take two, you’ve got work to do. Becoming a friction exterminator builds loyalty faster than any loyalty program ever could.

3. Ask ‘Why?’ Until It Gets Uncomfortable

Surface-level feedback is easy. Real insight takes digging. Ask why. Then ask again. And again. Somewhere between the third and fifth “why,” you’ll strike gold. That’s where innovation starts.

4. Build for Their Tomorrow, Not Your Today

Don’t give them what they asked for. Give them what they’ll need six months from now—before they know it. That’s love in motion.

5. Celebrate Their Wins More Than Yours

Make their success stories louder than your own product updates. Shift the spotlight. You’re not the hero. You’re the cape.

Call it problem passion, empathy engineering, user devotion, whatever. The name doesn’t matter. What matters is the relentless commitment to making their life better, even if it means changing your favorite feature or breaking your own process.

Stay Positive & They’ll Never Forget Your Name If You’re In Love With Their Problem

It’s one thing to not know. To move through life blissfully unaware that your quirks, habits, or missed expectations are stepping on someone else’s toes.

But it’s a whole other circus when you do know—and still do nothing.

You say, “Sorry I’m always late to meetings,” with a shrug and a smile, like confession is the same as redemption. Spoiler: it’s not. Acknowledgment without action is just polished apathy.

If you know you’re late, be early.

If you know you interrupt, listen longer.

If you know you make others pick up your slack, lighten their load instead of complimenting their strength.

Awareness is the first rung on the ladder. Don’t just cling to it and dangle. Climb.

One trick to shift the gears: Once you catch yourself acknowledging a pattern, assign a cost to it.

What’s your chronic lateness costing the team’s momentum? What’s your sarcasm costing someone’s confidence?

Turn “sorry” into “I’ve changed this because I know it matters.”

That’s how you go from being self-aware to self-respecting.

Stay Positive & I Suppose It’s How You Go From Tolerable To Trusted, Too

What if you were being rated every hour of the day? Not by some hovering manager or corporate eye in the sky, but by you—the version of you that expects greatness, clarity, and a little gumption.

Try this: set a silent alarm for every hour tomorrow. And when it buzzes, don’t groan—assign a scale. One hour, you rate your attitude. The next, your output. Then your gratitude, your presence, your creativity, your generosity. Every hour, a new lens. Every hour, a fresh scoreboard.

At 10 a.m., ask: “If I were my boss, would I be proud of my attitude this past hour?”

At 1 p.m., ask: “Did I ship something that matters, or just rearrange pixels and punch to-do list air?”

At 3 p.m., ask: “Was I grateful for the humans, the coffee, the sunlight? Or did I steamroll through it all like a bulldozer on autopilot?”

It sounds silly. That’s the point. It interrupts the trance of the day. It pokes holes in autopilot. It builds the habit of noticing, measuring, and (when needed) recalibrating.

You don’t need to be perfect. But if you improve by just one notch on the scale each hour—well, that’s how people become legends. Quietly. Repeatedly. One little internal performance review at a time.

Stay Positive & Ding Ding

Perfection is a seductive little liar. It whispers, “One more tweak. Just a bit more polish. Then you’ll be ready.” But by the time you’ve buffed the corners and ironed the folds, your once-bold idea is tired, overhandled, and somehow—less.

Here’s the truth: getting to 80% and sending it is often the smartest thing you can do.

Eighty percent is momentum. It’s structure, spirit, and soul. It’s enough to be understood and ready enough to be useful. And the beautiful, underrated part? The last 20%—that magical polish, that final shaping—can (and should) be filled in by others. Feedback, collaboration, fresh eyes: they finish what you started and make it better than you ever could alone.

Too much time and emotional energy is wasted chasing the illusion of a perfect final 20%. But if you were to pour that same energy into starting the next thing—learning, shipping, evolving—you’d build a body of work 10x greater and better, simply because you shipped.

Hit send at 80%. Let others bring their 20%. And get moving on the next bold idea while your last one’s out making magic in the world.

Stay Positive & Embody The 80/20

When you ask someone to do something—anything—don’t just give the command and walk away like a general in a trench coat.

Add the why.

And add it after the ask.

Not before. Not buried in backstory.

Not sandwiched between apologies or PowerPoint slides.

After.

Because people remember what you said last.

“Can you get this to me by Friday?”
That’s the ask.

“Because it gives us a real shot at hitting our launch timeline and looking like total pros.”

That’s the why.

The why is what aligns the task with their personal or professional why. The thing they care about. The thing they’re gunning for. The thing that matters beyond busywork and protocol.

We don’t move because of instructions. We move because of meaning.

Ask clearly. Then tack on the purpose like it’s a tailwind.

Stay Positive & Because It’s More Likely You’ll Create A Legacy

Sure, you can juggle. You can toss five flaming torches, a bowling pin, and your inbox into the air and technically keep them moving. But your brain isn’t a circus act. It’s a finely tuned pattern machine that burns energy trying to make sense of complexity—and if you throw too many inputs at it, it starts to sizzle.

The trap isn’t that you’re incapable. You’re smart enough, gritty enough, caffeinated enough to do many things. The trap is in believing that doing them all at once will lead to clarity or progress. It doesn’t. It leads to a cognitive soup where everything is lukewarm and underseasoned.

Pick one thing. The thing that matters. The thing that, if you focused deeply on it, would bend the needle. Then do that thing so well it makes your other ideas jealous. Analyze it, learn from it, build it, break it, repeat.

Stay Positive & Let The Rest Wait (Not Forever, But Until Your Brain Can Breath Again)