1. pretty old for an sdr
I’m old. 37 years old.
Most people think I'm 28 because Asian don’t raisin until you hit like 75, get a perm, and wear tracksuits everywhere, but my body knows.
Busted ass knees.
Back that'll go out if I sneeze the wrong way.
Also, I’m not that old depending on who you ask. But I'm a dinosaur for a newly minted SDR.
So, what made me want to become a tech sales bro in Chicago after living a vagabond lifestyle since 2009?
For one, the prodigal son returns. Chicago is home.
But most importantly, filial piety runs deep.
My parents are getting older and I refuse to let them go out in a bad way. And after diving into the literary agent query process for a second time, the same song kept donkey punching me between the shoulder blades.
Sing in head 2x
Wrote one anime screenplay and four novels in the last 12 years, splitting time between six cities, another country, friends’ couches, and my parents’ basement, but only the fourth novel felt sticky. The rest of my manuscripts were trash that never entered the query process. Necessary to get to the fourth, but trash nonetheless.
The analytical in me started threading alternate timelines. Even if I hit the NY Times BestSeller List with this fourth novel, that wouldn't create life changing money unless I got some kind of Netflix deal on the tail-end, which the odds of that happening live somewhere in outer space.
And I can only write like an hour a day. Long gone is my youth when I could sit at Microsoft Word eight hours a day. But writing is something I have to do. Like going to the gym. So… keep writing an hour a day and let that become a source of passive income if it ever hits. Other than that, move on, son.
This last year, I’ve decided that my brokenness has been a personal choice. The artist formerly thinking of himself as “Ninja” had made everything about writing, enough to the point that while I got my MFA in Florida, I siphoned toilet paper from the university restrooms ( living off an 8k a year scholarship stipend.)
Filling empty milk jugs at the university water fountains every time I headed to class.
Walking to Taco Bell down highway roads for when I deserved a treat (still a treat)
Ordering Hungry Howies and ganking free Monster Energies from the leasing office as Hurricane Irma supplies:
Etc.
Etc.
So, RIP Ninja. You die now. Reborn as an overly sensitive bot selling AI. Hopefully, my life skills accumulated through the road less traveled, from serving in the Peace Corps to pursuing that literary life, will translate into a quota guzzling machine.
You may be asking at this point. What makes me story worthy?
Writing is the opposite of sales. I can talk about myself as much as I want. As a covert narcissist, I don’t need to ask anyone shit. And personally, writing a blog about selling a Revenue Intelligence Platform benefits me in two ways.
Solidifying my learning process
Providing an opportunity to create a personal brand
That second one is tough, though. I guess the question is, how authentic can I be without looking like an idiot?
Okay.
Maybe I do care what you think. Probably a little too much. So, maybe you can learn something with me. Or laugh at me. Either way:
So, here I am. RIP Ninja. Coming to you on Tuesdays at 9 am CST with weekly posts about my journey through SaaS sales and how the lessons affect my perspective on the things important to me: ninja-ing, writing, and ending this starving artist lifestyle.
Because RIP Ninjas be hungry.
Now, gimme a piece of that pie.
But no sugar, please ;).
Yours truly,
RIP Ninja
Slanging AI since October 2023
Tune in every Monday at 9 am CST
