I created a sales technique called the existential close.

Now, I hate sales techniques. At least the kind that box people into a corner. The only techniques I like are the ones that make things clear and help people come to a fair decision. I’m very open.

Sometimes I’m talking to the leader of a billion-dollar product manufacturer. Other times I’m talking to someone thinking carefully about their own personal brand. The stakes are different, of course, but they’re experiencing the same human moment. They’re hesitating. If that happens, I’ll sometimes say something like this:

“You don’t want to do this until you’re ready. That makes sense. But there are a few things you should know.

“I’m really good at what I do. Differentiation is my craft. And the fact that you found me at all is wild. There are eight billion people on the planet. That you found me, decided I might be able to help, and reached out defies the mathematical odds.

“You might be thinking, ‘I can always do this later. There might be a better time.’ Maybe. But just because I’m here now doesn’t mean I’ll always be here. I might have a stroke. I might have an accident. I might decide to leave this field and do something else. I might decide to quadruple my fees.

“You just don’t know.

“What you do know is that I’ve already demonstrated I can help you in a meaningful way. You’ve said that yourself. And just because the opportunity exists now doesn’t mean it will exist later. If you walk, that’s not a neutral choice. It’s a gamble.”

I didn’t learn the existential close in any sales manual. I’m not trying to scare anyone. I’m not talking about their mortality. I put it all on me. I’m just naming something true about the human condition: things change, people disappear, and windows close.

Whatever they decide, I’m at peace with it. I told the truth.