The Art of Becoming is about turning obstacles into opportunities. Drawing from philosophy, resilience, and real-life experiences, I share lessons on navigating adversity, cultivating wisdom, and living with purpose. Because in the end, life isn’t about avoiding hardship—it’s about becoming someone who thrives in it.

We won’t always have the answers, but we can search for them together.

Today, we learn how failure, risk, and belief turn struggle into strength—and why learning to sell is learning to lead.

I hope you’ll join me.

Some lessons cost you everything—money, pride, and even a week of dry Corn Flakes.

At 24, I was the worst car salesman alive. I was broke, hungry, and one mistake away from being fired.

Then came Phil.

He taught me how to sell—and to believe in myself.

This story is about failure, belief, and the kind of leadership that sticks with you for life.

Everything in life is a sale—ideas, dreams, relationships—and the ones who learn to sell, lead.

If you can’t sell, you’ll struggle to lead, inspire, or even be heard.

Let’s get to it.

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You don’t become great without failing. And in my case, I failed more than most.

I was the worst salesman alive and couldn’t close a deal to save my life.

At 24, I sold cars. Or rather—I tried to. But one man believed in me more than he should have. Before I believed in myself.

Most of the sales team made over $60K a year, selling over 14-18 cars a month. The top guys made six figures. Our best salesman sold 120 cars in one month. He was a machine.

I made $4,500 in seven months.

I was paid minimum wage and barely sold three cars a month. The dealership had a rule: sell 14 cars, or you’re out. For some reason, I stayed.

And that reason was Phil.

Phil was my sales manager. He was from Liverpool, funny, had a dirty joke for every occasion, smoked too much, was a master manipulator and storyteller, and one of the best men and leaders I’ve ever known.

His team loved him and hated him. But we would do anything for him because we knew he would do anything for us.

I was the worst salesman in the dealership, but Phil never gave up on me. Our general manager wanted me gone, and Phil still stuck by me. He believed there was a great salesman inside of me and took it as a personal challenge to find that salesman.

Most days, I didn’t sell a car, and when I didn’t, Phil bought me bad coffee from the vending machine. He would hand me the coffee and say:

“You’re going to be a f**king great salesman one day. And when that happens, you’re going to be buying the coffee. Eff that. You’re buying the whole f**king team a drink.”

He was either crazy—or right.

Three months in, an older woman walked into the showroom holding a huge red purse. She wanted to buy a truck for her grandson. Not just any truck. A blue Toyota. I didn’t have one, but I had four red Ford Rangers—they were the right size, had a better engine, and they were a better price.

But I didn’t show her a single one.

I asked my qualifying questions. We bonded. I told the grandma I would find her a blue Toyota truck. And before she left the dealership, she promised she would only buy the truck from me.

Then I walked her to the bus stop, thanked her, and let her leave with $14,000 in that big red purse.

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I broke Phil’s number one rule in sales—always for the deal.

When the bus drove away, I heard Phil call my name over the intercom. He didn’t sound happy.

Phil asked me what happened with the sweet old lady and her big red purse.

I told him everything. The money in her purse. Her grandson’s graduation. I said Grandma wanted a blue T-Oyota truck, but we had none. I was going to start looking in the morning. The only problem with my logic was that we were a Ford dealership.

To say the least, Phil wasn’t happy with me.

“We’ve got the perfect truck, Michael. It’s everything she needs. It's just not a f**king T-Oyota. Low f**king miles, cheaper than what she wanted to spend, and a better f**king truck. Do you show her any of those trucks and ask if you could sell one for less than she had in her purse? Would she f**king buy one today?”

I had no answer.

“I can call her number. She said she would only buy from me.”

“Mike,” Phil said. “How much money do you have in your pocket?”

“$22.”

“I bet you that by the end of the day, she buys a truck from someone else. And it won’t even be a blue T-Oyota truck. Hell, if you win, I’ll give you $100.”

I took the bet.

That night, I called her and told her about our cheaper and better Ford trucks.

“Oh, Michael, I'm glad you called. I stopped at a Chevy store and met the meanest salesman. He wasn’t nice like you. I told him I wanted to buy my Mijo a blue T-Oyota truck. He said he didn’t have any T-Oyotas. Just Chevys and one Ford. But then I remembered you worked at a Ford store. So I asked him to show me the Ford. It was grey, not blue. But it was less than $14,000. So I bought it. I wish you had Ford trucks that were cheap like his. I didn’t like that man.”

I wasn’t a pushy salesman, I told Phil. He laughed as he took my last $22. I ate dry Corn Flakes for a week.

For the next six months, I believed I lost everything. At least, the ability to buy a one dollar burrito at Taco Bell.

But I realized I was wrong. I gained something better.

Five Lessons from Phil

Don’t bet the farm. Especially if you’re betting against someone like Phil. Don’t put all your eggs in one basket. Not your investments, nor your last $22.

Always ask for the deal. In life, you don’t get what you think you deserve. You get what you ask for.

Ask better questions. You can’t help someone until you know what they need. Curiosity builds trust. Ask: “If I could do [X], would you say yes today?” That one sentence can change your career, relationships, and life.

In life, we are all in sales. Some get paid to sell, but everyone is selling something. Even love. [Hey, I know what you’re thinking. This is a family friendly-ish blog.]

As I told beautiful blonde when I was 27 years old:

If I loved you more than one hundred men combined could ever love anyone, and I did it for the rest of your life, would you marry today?

For some reason, that beautiful blonde said yes. We’ve been together every since.

I guess I can sell. Or—don’t tell her this—there’s sucker born every minute.

There’s no growth without risk. I played it safe with Grandma, and that sort of safe rarely wins. You grow when you risk rejection to pursue the truth.

You grow when you fail and learn from it. Phil made sure I learned from my rejections and many failures. I still do.

That’s when I learned: greatness always requires risk. As Muhammed Ali said:

“He who is not courageous enough to take risks will accomplish nothing in life.”

Be like Phil. He never gave up on me and believed in me before I earned it. That belief changed my life. It gave me the confidence to sell, to write, and ask my wife to marry me.

Five months later, I sold 18 cars. My paycheck was $14,000—the exact amount in Grandma’s purse. The irony still stings.

The following month, I sold 22 cars.

Being like Phil means caring more about people than deals. He bought me more than coffee. He started buying lunch for the team when he learned I had been eating Corn Flakes breakfast, lunch, and dinner for over a week.

Phil and all great leaders understand this truth:

Phil taught me that a leader believes in his people more than the team believes in themselves.

And if you do that, maybe one day, someone will write a story like this about you.

Thanks for reading. Remember, belief in yourself and others is one of the most powerful forces in the universe.

Love to you and yours,

Michael

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