Josh Braun's Recent LinkedIn Posts

The root of all anxiety in sales comes down to one thing. Trying to control what’s out of your control. Here are some things that are out of your control: Your territory. Your quota. If people buy. When people buy. Other people’s opinions. How prospects treat you on cold calls. If people respond to your cold emails. If it’s not in your control, it’s not your weight to carry. Here are some things that are in your control. Your process. Your words. Your tone. Your mindset. I know this is hard, especially when your back’s against the wall in Q4. But so are anxiety and stress. I’ve never seen a deal close faster because a seller worried more. The opposite happens. Tuning out what you can’t control doesn’t make you complacent. It’s the opposite. It means doing your best and yielding to whatever happens next. There’s peace, freedom, and confidence in that. So today, practice letting go of one thing that’s not yours to carry. Imagine you’re the sky, and the clouds are all the things you can’t control. Your job is to watch them pass. Sometimes the most productive thing you can do is nothing.

In Kyoto, taxi drivers wear suits. White gloves. The cars are spotless. Doors open for you. No tip expected. No attitude given. Just quiet pride in the work. In New York, it’s different. The cab smells like four different cuisines. The seat might be torn. There’s a pineapple air freshener doing its best. The ride is fast. The vibe is survival. Both get you where you’re going. One feels like care. The other feels like urgency. Same job. Different way of being. Made me wonder… What if the work isn’t the problem? What if it’s the energy we bring to it? In sales, it’s easy to rush. Push. Chase the outcome. New York energy. But there’s another way. Slow down. Do things that don’t scale. Listen. Tone. Pacing. Presence. Kyoto energy. The interesting part? The result often looks the same. Meeting or no meeting. Deal or no deal. But the experience feels different. For them. For you. Lesson: You don’t need a different job to feel different in your job. Just a different way of showing up. Grace… in the same grind.

I’m 56. Trying to make new friends. Which sounds great in theory. “Put yourself out there.” “Meet new people.” “Expand your circle.” ‘Socializing is good for your health.” Then it’s 6pm. And I’ve got a choice: Go meet new humans… or Play guitar. Hang with my dog. Guitar wins. Dog wins. Undefeated. Not because I don’t want friends. I just seem to prefer low maintenance relationships. No small talk. No scheduling. No “we should do this again sometime.” Just me and something that feels good. So if you you’re trying to be my friend. just know… I’m probably at home learning a new chord or playing fetch with Ruby. And honestly? They’re both pretty great friends.

This helped me stay relaxed on cold calls.

When I ran an SDR team, this was a big unlock. I hired a freelancer to verify contacts before the reps ever picked up the phone. Their only job was to make sure we had the right person on the list. Here’s the script I gave them: Ring ring. “Hello, this is Jane.” “Hi Jane, my name’s David Briggs with Jellyvision. We’ve never spoken, but I was hoping you could help me out for a moment.” “Sure.” “Thanks. I’m looking to send some information to the person who handles benefits communication. Would that be Melissa Davis?” That’s it. Simple. Non-threatening. Quick. Then, when the SDR called, they knew they were speaking to the right person. No wasted dials. No awkward intros. No pitching the wrong contact. When I listen to cold calls today, I’d estimate 70% of the time the rep is talking to someone who has nothing to do with what they’re selling. The fix isn’t better talk tracks. It’s cleaner lists. Right person. Right problem. Right conversation.

There’s a lot of talk about low reach on LinkedIn. Low… compared to what? Last week, my posts were seen 490,614 times. Just sit with that for a moment. No booth. No flights. No badge around my neck. No team standing behind a table. Just a few thoughts shared from a room in Boca. If this were a conference, how big would the hall need to be to hold half a million glances? If this were ads, how much would you pay just to be seen? And here it is. Already happening. The mind says, “It’s not enough.” It always does. It compares. It reaches. It looks for more. But there’s another way to look. Not “How do I get more reach?” But “What is already here?” The reach didn’t shrink. Your expectation grew.

Boat pose. Sit. Lift your legs. Spine straight. Hold. Yoga’s way of saying: “Let’s sit here and suffer mindfully.” Seven seconds in… My abs are shaking. My face is negotiating. Mind kicks in: “Is this necessary?” “This hurts.” “You should write a post about this.” “Everyone else looks calm. Are they lying?” I try to think my way out. Adjust. Analyze. Escape. Nothing works. Instructor says: “Come back to your breath.” Which feels like being told: “Relax” while being chased by a bear. But then… I actually do it. Feel my feet. Notice the shaking. Take a breath. And something softens. The drama drops. It’s just shaking now. Not a personal attack. Same thing off the mat. Mind spirals. Tries to solve everything immediately. But the way out isn’t more thinking. It’s: “Oh… I’m spiraling.” Feet. Breath. Look around. Back. Also… still canceling my yoga membership if they add one more boat pose.

Jia Jiang did something interesting. He went out and collected rejection. For 100 days. He’d make requests most people would avoid. Like asking a stranger: “Can I borrow $100?” Or going into a Krispy Kreme and asking: “Can you make donuts in the shape of the Olympic rings?” Not to manipulate. Not to win. Just to get used to hearing no. What he found? People didn’t reject him as much as he expected. And when they did… it didn’t sting the way he thought it would. Exposure changes things. You don’t think your way out of fear. You walk into it. Repeatedly. Until it loses its charge. What if you brought this into cold calling? Instead of setting meeting goal you set a no goal. Ten in a row. If someone agrees to a meeting or you have a positive conversation, you start over. Notice what happens. The pressure drops. The grip loosens. You’re not trying to win the call anymore. You’re just playing the game. And when you view cold calling like a no game: you sound different. You’re more relaxed and chill. Because when you’re no longer avoiding rejection you stop acting like it’s something to fear. Ironically the less you care about booking the meeting, the more meeting you book.

A salesperson says: “Let me ask you one last question…” That’s when you know… There are at least 7 more questions coming. Be with the question that’s here. And when it’s done, let it be done. No grasping for one more. Ironically… When you stop trying to extend the conversation… It ends exactly where it should.

Amateurs hear: “You’re too expensive.” And rush in: “We’re actually very competitive because . . “ They reach for facts, reason and logic. But it lands like judgment. “I’m right. You’re wrong.” And the door closes. Pros do something softer. They don’t correct. They reflect. “You don’t think it’s worth it.” “Sounds like you’re comparing this to something else.” “You expected it to be a zero lower.” No push. No defense. Just a guess. This is elicitation. You offer a mirror. Not a lecture. If you’re off, they adjust it. If you’re close, they deepen it. Either way… truth moves forward. The less you defend, the more they reveal.

I have two friends. One is always chasing more. More money. More deals. More everything. He’s sharp. Driven. The other… Could make more. Knows how to. But stopped. Said, “I have enough.” Not in a lazy way. In a settled way. He still works. Still shows up. Just without the tension. He’s content. No scoreboard running in the background. When I spend time with them, I notice something. The one chasing more… is often somewhere else. Stressed out. Thinking about what’s next. The one who has enough… is here. Laughs longer. Listens fully. Doesn’t seem in a hurry to leave the moment. Both are successful. But my enough friend seems way happier. Made me wonder… At what point does more stop chasing more? The chase never ends. But you can.

Early in my sales career, I thought my job was to be the smartest person in the room. Have the answers. Explain. Connect the dots. It came from a good place. If I could just show people what they were missing… they’d see it. Most didn’t. Not because the idea was wrong. Because it wasn’t theirs. That was the shift. People trust ideas they discover. So instead of completing the puzzle for them I left one piece on the table. Just enough for them to see it. “Oh… I know where that goes.” That moment? That’s ownership. That’s buy-in. That’s selling without convincing. This is what “poking the bear” is. A neutral question about a potential gap. “Looks like your posts had 2,398 comments in the last three months. How are you identifying which ones match your ideal clients so you can reach out?” Now they lean. Because it’s their idea. They’re thinking instead of being explained to. They naturally wonder “Is that what you do?” Buyers have the answers. Sellers have the questions.

Sales is like having a crush. You’re thinking about them way more than they’re thinking about you. You’re checking your phone… Refreshing your inbox like it’s Instagram. Replaying every word of the last convo. Googling: “How long should I wait before following up?” Meanwhile… They’ve already forgotten your name. You: “Maybe they’re just busy?” Them: “Who’s this again?” Crushes and prospects have one thing in common: You care more than they do. Lesson? No chasing. Nobody likes the smell of desperation. Try this instead: “Have we hit a roadblock with procurement?” No response is a response. Remember: You need two people to make a sale. You can’t play catch with someone who won’t throw the ball back. So don’t chase. Replace. There are plenty more prospects. Scarcity chases. Abundance moves on. Silence isn’t rejection. It’s redirection.

“I’m bad at this” might just mean… “I haven’t done this enough yet.” I’m in yoga. Half moon pose. Wobbly. Feet don’t feel steady. First thought? “I’m bad at this.” And the moment I say that… I feel bad. Leslie,the yoga instructor, says: “You’re not bad. You’re breaking a habit.” I’ve been standing the same way for 56 years. Now I’m asking my body to do something new. Turn the foot. Shift the weight. Find a different balance. Of course it feels off. It’s called a practice for a reason. Not a test. Not a performance. A practice. You don’t show up to be good. You show up to repeat. To fall. To adjust. To try again. We do the same thing in sales. “I’m bad at cold calls.” “I’m not good at handling objections.” Maybe you’re not bad. Maybe you’re just unfamiliar. You’re forming a new habit pattern. New mindset. New words. New way of being. Of course it feels wobbly. Drop the judgment. Keep the practice. Carry the rocks to the pile. That’s the work.

Realizing this made selling feel more relaxed and chill. Not easier. Just lighter. In sales… everything changes. Hit quota. Miss quota. Sale. No sale. Promotion. Fired. Highs and lows. Every ascent… has a descent. I used to fight that. Hold onto the highs. Resist the lows. Try to control the outcome. It’s exhausting. Then something shifted. I realized there’s nothing to fix. This is the nature of the work. Like waves. They rise. They fall. You don’t stop the ocean. You learn how to move with it. That’s the muscle. Not forcing results. Not clinging to wins. Not resisting losses. Just showing up. Doing the work to the best of your ablity. Letting the wave pass. When you stop arguing with the rhythm… you start moving with it.

I like reading AI posts. If something is interesting… I don’t care who wrote it. I notice what happens inside. Did it slow me down? Did it make me think differently? That’s enough. Human. AI. A mix of both. Doesn’t matter. When you eat a great meal, you don’t ask who the chef is. You care about the taste. The experience. But something funny is happening. People are spending more time trying to detect AI than deciding if something is actually useful. Part of it is subtle. Our egos like to believe we’re better than the machine. That we would have said it differently. Smarter. More human. So we scan for clues. An em dash becomes a scarlet letter. Proof. Gotcha. We judge the source instead of receiving the message. Like becoming a food critic… who never tastes the food. Just inspects the kitchen. Of course, there’s a difference between: Using AI to think and using AI to avoid thinking. You can feel it. One lands. One floats. And now you might be wondering… Was this written by AI? By me? A bit of both? Does it matter?

It says it teaches kids how to draw. But the robot draws. The child watches. Something is missed. Learning doesn’t come from perfect lines. It comes from the crooked ones. The unsure ones. The ones you almost erase… but don’t. That small tension… is where seeing begins. When everything is shown, nothing is discovered. Same in selling. When we explain too much, we take the pencil out of their hand. Better to leave a line unfinished. A question. A pause. A small gap. And let them complete it. Example: “Not sure if you’re seeing this, but SaaS tools often end up underused as teams grow.How are you currently making sure you’re not paying for unused licenses?” Because what we discover, we keep.

Can you feel the difference? Prospect: “Your price is too high.” “What makes you say that?” vs “Sounds like you have a reason for saying that.” Then… “What makes you say that?” “What makes you say that?” has a subtle edge. Explain. Justify. Defend your position. The question isn’t wrong. But it leans forward. There’s a pressure in it. The body feels it. A slight tightening. A small shield goes up. Not because anything bad happened… but because something is being asked from them. Now notice the other: “Sounds like you have a reason for saying that.” Nothing is being asked. Something is being noticed. You’re not pulling. You’re noticing. It lands differently. Instead of: “I need to defend this…” It feels like: “Yeah… I do have a reason.” The shield doesn’t come up. It softens. Because you didn’t challenge the statement. You acknowledged the person behind it. When people feel understood they don’t brace. They open.

"What are you selling?" What do you say?

There’s one shift that can turn you from amateur to pro on cold calls. It’s simple, but not easy. Stop explaining. Start asking questions that make prospects pause and say, “Hmm… that’s a good question.” Poke the bear. Examples for Flexera: “How do you know which software licenses in your environment haven’t been touched in 90 days?” “When finance asks for a breakdown of active vs inactive licenses across vendors, how do you pull it?” “How are you spotting duplicate or unused licenses before renewal time, not after the invoice hits?” When someone says, “Hmm… that’s a good question,” you’ve earned a conversation. The psychology of poking the bear: When you make a statement, people judge it. When you ask a question, they explore it. Questions bypass the brain’s sales filter. They invite reflection. They open curiosity, the moment when the mind leans in instead of pushing away. That’s where conversations begin. Then presuppose awareness: “You’ve probably looked into tech that shows you software licenses you’re not using.” It assumes your prospect is smart. It feels collaborative, not pushy. The psychology of elicitation: Elicitation invites people to correct or confirm you. Either way, you unlock truth. Because correction and confirmation both mean you’re in a conversation The best cold calls don’t make people say “yes.” They make people say, “I never thought about it like that.”

There’s a lot of talk about low reach on LinkedIn. Low… compared to what? Last week, my posts were seen 490,614 times. Just sit with that for a moment. No booth. No flights. No badge around my neck. No team standing behind a table. Just a few thoughts shared from a room in Boca. If this were a conference, how big would the hall need to be to hold half a million glances? If this were ads, how much would you pay just to be seen? And here it is. Already happening. The mind says, “It’s not enough.” It always does. It compares. It reaches. It looks for more. But there’s another way to look. Not “How do I get more reach?” But “What is already here?” The reach didn’t shrink. Your expectation grew.

How to be relaxed and chill when cold calling. A baseball player steps up to the plate. They already know… Most swings won’t lead to a hit. Not wrong. Not failure. Just the nature of the game. So they don’t carry each swing with them. They return to the stance. Again and again. Same with cold calling. Find your number. The number of dials it takes to have a two-minute conversation or a meeting. When I was calling, mine was 68. Your number might be higher or lower. So the work became: Move toward 68. Not toward the meeting. Just the next call. Because: You don’t control what happens. You only control the dial. Nothing to fix. Nothing to force. Just continue. And somewhere along the way… A conversation appears. Someone wants to continue talking. Not because you chased. Because you stayed. That’s how you stay relaxed and chill when cold calling.

I’m biking on A1A. Tight shoulder. Cars flying by. One driver leans on the horn. Loud. Aggressive. He rolls down the window: “Get off the road!!” Middle finger up. Some guys I’m riding with fire back. Yelling. Flipping him off too. And you can feel it… Everything tighten. Here’s what I noticed: The anger didn’t come from the honk. Or the words. It came from the argument with reality. “This shouldn’t be happening.” “He shouldn’t act like that.” But… it is happening. And he did. Arguing with that doesn’t change it. It just keeps it alive longer. There’s a version where you don’t like it… and still don’t fight it. You let the moment pass through instead of building a home for it. A world where drivers sometimes get angry at cyclists? That’s the world. Not agreeing with it. Not approving of it. Just not fighting what already is. That’s where things soften. That’s where peace sneaks in.

Some people try to fix things before they have enough volume to see clearly. They change messaging after 12 cold calls. Rewrite scripts after two conversations. Hard to know what’s not resonating when the sample size is tiny. Volume gives you signal. Then fixing has something real to work with. Think of a cold call in four parts: Opener Right person Poke the bear Ask Track where people drop off. Fix that part. Without volume… fixing is guessing.

“What happens if you don’t change anything this year?” Sounds like a question. Feels like a setup. It assumes staying the same is a mistake. And it’s coming from someone with a clear agenda. No trust yet. Seller is biased. So the prospect hears: “Defend your decision.” Or gives a surface-level answer to protect their ego. Consider asking a neutral question to see if there’s a problem rather than assuming: “Not sure if you’re seeing this, but SaaS tools often end up underused as teams grow. How are you currently making sure you’re not paying for unused licenses?” No push. No trap. Just a gentle observation… and a question. Now they don’t have to defend. They get to think. And if there is a problem… they’ll say it. Not because you led them there. Because they found it.

I’m biking on A1A. Tight shoulder. Cars flying by. One driver leans on the horn. Loud. Aggressive. He rolls down the window: “Get off the road!!” Middle finger up. Some guys I’m riding with fire back. Yelling. Flipping him off too. And you can feel it… Everything tighten. Here’s what I noticed: The anger didn’t come from the honk. Or the words. It came from the argument with reality. “This shouldn’t be happening.” “He shouldn’t act like that.” But… it is happening. And he did. Arguing with that doesn’t change it. It just keeps it alive longer. There’s a version where you don’t like it… and still don’t fight it. You let the moment pass through instead of building a home for it. A world where drivers sometimes get angry at cyclists? That’s the world. Not agreeing with it. Not approving of it. Just not fighting what already is. That’s where things soften. That’s where peace sneaks in.

Had a strange thought the other day. I’m not that different from a bank robber. We both want money. Security. Freedom. The difference? Not desire. Circumstance. Upbringing. Environment. Opportunities. Wiring I didn’t choose. If I were born into his body and mind, with the bank robber’s upbringing… I’d make the same choices. It’s humbling. Harder to judge. Easier to see. Doesn’t mean there aren’t consequences. There are. But it softens the story of: “He is this way because he chose it.” Maybe it’s more like: This is what showed up, given everything that came before. And in seeing that… A little less blame. A little more compassion. For others. And for yourself.