Never Say Never: A Tale of Two Cities and Two Cold Calls

The New York City air crackled with a competitive energy I was determined to master. As a newly appointed, young Director of Sales for North America, every handshake, every pitch, and every meeting in those iconic high-rises felt like a test. I was eager to prove myself, but acutely aware of the unspoken codes of conduct in this concrete jungle.

To bolster our presence, I made a practice of inviting upper management to key sales calls. It wasn’t just about my own fluency; it was about presenting a united front, a chorus of value from the company's top brass. One morning, my CEO, Brian—a seasoned Data-as-a-Service veteran with a calm South African demeanor—joined me for a downtown meeting.

True to New York form, we took the subway. Within fifteen minutes, we were standing in the polished, echoing lobby of a skyscraper, its directory board gleaming with the names of corporate titans. As I checked us in, Brian studied the directory.

“Kerim,” he said, a thoughtful look in his eyes. “While we’re here, after our meeting, we should stop by one of these other companies. See if we can introduce ourselves to someone relevant.”

The logistical efficiency of the idea was sound, but to me, it felt profoundly wrong. This was Manhattan, not a suburban strip mall.

“Brian,” I replied, choosing my words carefully, “we aren’t selling carpets or vacuum cleaners. I fear a cold drop-in could come across as unprofessional, perhaps even damage our chances of securing a proper meeting with them later.”

He smiled, undeterred. “We’ll just say we were in the building and seized the opportunity. Never hurts to try.”

I nodded in reluctant agreement, a silent protest brewing in my mind. This will end in disaster.

Our scheduled meeting, thankfully, was a success. Energized by the positive outcome, we stepped back into the elevator. My sense of dread returned as Brian pressed the button for our unscheduled target. The receptionist there was the picture of polite, New York-style impenetrability. Her eyes widened slightly at our explanation. A few hushed phone calls later, she delivered the verdict with a sterile smile: no one was available, and no names would be provided.

It was a moment of quiet, cringe-inducing defeat. The walk back to the elevator was interminable. Out of respect, I swallowed my “I told you so,” but the lesson was branded onto my sales playbook: Never, ever approach a company without prior research and a secured appointment.

Never say never.

The years rolled on. I found myself in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, now as the Chief Sales Officer for a SaaS company. The sun-baked landscape was a world away from New York's steel canyons. My local team and I were visiting the offices of STCS (Saudi Telecom Company Services) to discuss some unpaid invoices for a project.

As we entered the commercial building, I glanced at the directory—and my heart skipped a beat. There it was: TCS. My mind, a flawed compass, instantly misread the acronym. Confidently, I led my team to the elevator and pressed the button for TCS.

The doors opened onto a sleek, modern lobby. It took only a moment to realize our mistake. This was not STCS; we were standing in the reception of Tata Consultancy Services, a global IT giant. My colleagues gently corrected me, explaining the common mix-up. We were meant to be one floor down.

The ghost of that humiliating New York lobby visit descended upon me. But then, a rebellious, almost childlike thought emerged. I had clung to the "never again" rule for so long. What if this mistake was actually an opportunity in disguise?

“Wait,” I told my team, a newfound conviction in my voice. “This is a happy accident. Let’s see if we can speak with someone here.”

The receptionist, unlike her New York counterpart, was remarkably gracious. She made a call, and soon, we were introduced to a gentleman named Alik from Business Development. He was sharp, engaging, and genuinely curious. We explained our work, and his interest was immediately piqued. He was so impressed that he insisted on organizing a formal meeting with TCS's key stakeholders right there in their office.

I can’t recall if we met them that same day or immediately after our STCS collection call, but the meeting with TCS was a resounding success. They saw the immense potential in our digital marketing IP and software. A partnership was born.

Just three months later, that partnership bore spectacular fruit. A major RFP appeared where TCS was the prime contractor, and they brought us in as their chosen sub-contractor. The result was a multi-million-dollar deal spanning two years. The partnership was so successful that my company named TCS its "Partner of the Year," a honor celebrated with a beautiful trophy and certificate sent across the world during the pandemic's peak.

The irony was not lost on me. The very tactic that had failed so spectacularly in one city, in one context, had unlocked a golden opportunity in another.

The lesson was refined, not rewritten. It’s not about rigid rules, but about context, confidence, and a dash of serendipity. A closed door in New York does not mean a locked gate in Riyadh. So, have the wisdom to learn from failure, but the courage to challenge your own assumptions.

Long story short? Never say never.