October 12, 2026 | Brian Mitchell

Sometimes the greatest lessons come from what we almost miss.

Have you ever experienced one of those days that may have changed the direction of your professional life? A moment so memorable that, decades later, you can still recall the sights, sounds, feelings, and even the sweat? I have. And I certainly do!

I remember standing outside Professor Roberts’ office as though it were yesterday. It was final exam time, and our Salesmanship professor had devised an unusual examination. Each student would be required to sell something to him, one-on-one, with the outcome representing a sizable portion of our final grade.

The atmosphere was unlike anything I had previously experienced in school. It was almost surreal. Professor Roberts was a high-energy former sales executive with a Fortune 5 company. He was intense, demanding, and not particularly interested in excuses. Arriving three minutes late to class could earn you an immediate invitation to leave. I witnessed it happen!

Here we were at tiny Johnson State College in Vermont, hardly known as a powerhouse of business education, with a professor who demanded excellence, preparation, and maximum effort-all the time!

As I nervously awaited my turn to face the “monster behind the door,” students began emerging from his office. Some were furious. Others looked defeated. A few were in tears. Whatever was happening behind that door wasn’t pretty!

With each departing student, my anxiety increased. My desire to succeed, combined with a fierce dislike of failure, began taking control of my mind and body.

Sweat poured from my armpits like Brushy Brook running through our Vermont farm during the spring thaw. My hands were freezing. My stomach was churning. I felt like I was standing at the free-throw line with seconds remaining, down by one point, and the game resting on my shoulders.

Only this was worse. Much worse! My assignment was to sell a painting contract to Professor Roberts, who would play the role of a construction project manager. I represented an imaginary painting company, competing against imaginary competitors for an imaginary contract. Unfortunately, my fear was anything but imaginary!

I had prepared my presentation. I knew my offering. I had a confirmed appointment. What could go wrong? Huh, apparently, quite a lot!

Finally, my turn arrived. “Here goes nothing,” I muttered as I entered the torture chamber.

“Good morning, Mr. Roberts!” I announced with my most enthusiastic smile.

“Yes, yes! What have you got for me?” he barked.

“I’m here to offer you quality painting services at an excellent price, with guaranteed on-time completion,” I responded confidently.

“You know what? I don’t have time for this!”

Whoa! What was happening? He was throwing me out before I had even begun! Another failed student to notch into his already well-worn belt. No way, I thought. I’m not leaving. I can’t leave. I can’t fail!

“But we have a confirmed appointment,” I protested, attempting to maintain some semblance of professionalism.

“I don’t care! I don’t have time!”

I tried again. I emphasized quality workmanship, competitive pricing, on-time completion and excellent references. I thought something would capture his interest, but it didn’t.

He then delivered the big blow: “I just don’t have time to talk to you. Now get out of here!”

My confidence flattened, my mind raced, and my carefully prepared sales pitch had become completely useless. I stood there, frozen, searching desperately for something that might rescue this disaster. Then something happened. I cannot explain exactly how or why, but somewhere in that swirl of panic, a light suddenly came on. I remembered what he had said – not once, not twice, but three times! He didn’t have time.

Somehow, I gathered enough courage and composure to ask a simple question.

“What if I could show you how to save time? Would you talk with me then?”

He paused and look at me. “Can you save me time?”

“Yes, sir! I can work directly with your clients in advance to determine their color preferences, finishes, scheduling requirements, and other details so you don’t have to spend your time coordinating those decisions.”

Suddenly, everything changed. He listened, we talked, and before I knew it, he signed the imaginary painting contract. I had made the sale, but Professor Roberts hadn’t finished teaching. Before dismissing me, he reminded me that he had told me three times that he was short of time before I finally recognized what mattered. It took me hearing it three times before I responded to meet his needs!

Hey, at least I got it, right? And I received an A on the exam and an A on the course. But the grade wasn’t the greatest return-I had just learned the difference between hearing someone and truly listening to understand them.

And that lesson would influence much of my professional life. And though listening truly is the beginning of leadership, over the years, I have come to recognize that listening is only part of the equation. We must also learn to read the room. Professor Roberts had given me more than words. His impatience, abrupt responses, dismissive attitude, and repeated objections were all signals. He was communicating what mattered to him, and I was so focused on delivering my carefully prepared message that I nearly missed it. I was listening to respond rather than listening to understand.

In business, leadership, relationships, and everyday conversations, we can become so preoccupied with what we want to say that we overlook what someone else is trying to communicate. Sometimes the most important message isn’t found in the words themselves. It may be revealed through body language, facial expressions, tone of voice, hesitation, or even silence.

Reading the room requires awareness. It also requires humility, the willingness to recognize that what we think someone needs may not be what they actually need. And because appearances can be misleading, good leaders don’t simply assume they understand. They ask questions, listen carefully, and seek clarity.

But there was another important lesson waiting for me in Professor Roberts’ office. Awareness without courage may accomplish very little.

I could have accepted his dismissal, walked out the door, and joined the other defeated students. Frankly, that was becoming an attractive option! But instead, I somehow found the courage to try something different. I stopped defending my presentation and began addressing his concern. That required a different kind of confidence. Not confidence that I could deliver a polished sales pitch, but confidence that I had something of genuine value to offer. There is an important distinction. Confidence isn’t believing that everyone needs what we have. It is understanding the value we can provide and having the courage to discover whether that value addresses someone else’s needs. That is key!

That principle applies just as much to leadership as it does to sales. Great leaders don’t simply tell people what they believe is important. They seek to understand what matters to those they serve. They recognize concerns, identify opportunities, and connect their abilities and resources to meaningful solutions. Sometimes that means changing direction in the middle of a conversation. Sometimes it means asking a question we hadn’t planned to ask. And sometimes it requires the courage to challenge our own assumptions. Professor Roberts taught me all of that in a matter of minutes.

I have often described that experience as a well-deserved “kick in the butt.” I’ve received quite a few of those over the years, both personally and professionally. Funny thing about those kicks. None of them ever felt like a pat on the back! Some were painful. Others were downright humbling. But many became invaluable opportunities for growth. In hindsight, they may have taught me as much, or more than, the encouragement and recognition I received along the way.

I eventually came to regard Professor Roberts as one of the most impactful teachers I encountered during my undergraduate education. His methods were certainly unconventional, and I wouldn’t suggest that intimidation is a necessary ingredient of effective teaching, yet his lesson stayed with me. I also learned that he cared about me and saw potential in me. I am grateful for that.

Years later, I also came to appreciate another important truth: great salespeople aren’t simply born. They are developed. Natural talent, intelligence, personality, and confidence may provide advantages, but lasting effectiveness comes through preparation, practice, continuous improvement, resilience, and genuine respect for the people we serve.

The same is true of great leaders. They learn to listen beyond words. They develop the awareness to recognize what is happening around them. They find the courage to respond when circumstances become uncomfortable. And they build the confidence that comes from knowing the value they can contribute.

They understand that our greatest value is not determined by what we have to offer, but by how meaningfully that offering serves the needs of others.

Looking back, that day outside Professor Roberts’ office really was an eye-opener. I walked in believing my job was to convince someone to buy what I was selling. I walked out beginning to understand that my real job was to discover what mattered to him.

And that, my friends, made all the difference.