Sunday, January 08, 2006
On Losing a Pitch
I lost a pitch today.
It’s the first competitive, RFP-based pitch that I’ve lost in 6 years and 2 months. It’s the first overall pitch I’ve lost in 2 years and 6 months. Interesting numbers, if you think about it. Reversed, in my reversal of fortune.
Those of you who’ve worked with me know have some idea of why this has hit me so hard. For one, I hate losing. For another, I put more into pitches than most other firms put into entire projects or campaigns. I eat, sleep, breathe and dream about the client. I find ways to do interesting research. I call in special resources who have specific talent that will help the specific client. For this particular client, I spent eighteen hours non-stop in a hotel room in Las Vegas on December 24th, while my wife had to go out by herself. Because of the holidays and a lack of people available for the pitch, I personally came out of design retirement and helped with the mockups. To meet deadlines, and to still acommodate the enormous amount of work I wanted done as part of the pitch, I enlisted production resources in our Ukranian offices so that people were working 24 hours a day.
When I lose something like this, I take it personally. It feels like really horrible rejection from a girl that didn’t see the best parts of all you have to offer. It’s momentarily debilitating.
And for all that work, I got the rejection by email. Of course, you always know. It’s when your phone calls, which were previously picked up on first ring, are caller-id-ignored. It’s when there are awkward silences in the phone calls leading up to the final rejection. It’s when one client says that they’re still making their decision, but it’s really another client’s call. I understand, though. Noone really likes to give bad news. Noone likes making that phone call. It’s easier to craft a well-written email, and let the rejection sink-in that way.
Curiously, my winning competitior is a “small, boutique firm” that’s in the same remote city that the deciding VP is moving to his new location from. Originally, I was tempted to dismiss the loss as a loss to a prior friendship or relationship. But that’s too easy, and that’s shirking from my own failure.
I realized today that I take my work very, very personally. It wasn’t as evident to me before, but as I sit here, astonishingly depressed in my bed, I understand what makes me good at my job also makes me vulnerable to getting irrationally hurt. I wear my work-heart on my sleeve, and this time, no amount of creativity, conversations, and pre-work was good enough to win.
I was beaten, and it sucks.