The Pitch That Finally Made Sense
When I stopped trying to sound smart and just told the truth.
There was a time I thought pitching meant performing.
Make it slick. Talk fast. Drop stats. Big vision. Bold roadmap.
You know the drill.
But the pitch that actually worked for me?
It didn’t sound like that at all.
We were building something useful. Simple, even. Not flashy.
It solved a boring problem that most people ignore until it costs them time or money.
The kind of issue that lives in the background until one day, it breaks something important.
I had seen it happen in my previous role. I had worked with people who stayed late at the office, trying to fix this problem with spreadsheets and workarounds.
Smart people. Doing their best. Getting nowhere.
And that’s what I talked about.
I didn’t show a hockey stick chart. I didn’t open with a massive market size.
I told a story.
A real one.
A woman on a team I used to work with, pulling long hours, trying to hit deadlines while buried in a messy process we all quietly hated. I walked them through her day.
What slowed her down. What she tried. What it cost the company.
Then I showed how our product would have helped her. Step by step. No drama. Just clarity.
I remember the investor sitting across from me.
He didn’t smile. Didn’t nod much.
But he leaned in.
He asked questions. Real ones. Not about valuation. Not about user growth.
He wanted to know how many other teams worked like hers.
What they were doing now. How fast they were growing. Whether they were paying to fix it, or just putting up with it.
That conversation led to a second call.
That second call led to a cheque.
Looking back, I think it worked because it was honest.
There was no hype. No pretending we were further along than we were.
Just: here’s a real problem, here’s who has it, and here’s what we’re doing about it.
It wasn’t a perfect pitch. But it made sense.
And more importantly, it made someone care.
I’ve seen other founders try to do too much in a pitch.
Trying to impress. Trying to prove they belong.
It’s understandable. But it often backfires.
If the story gets too broad, the investor gets lost.
If the model gets too fuzzy, the trust starts to slip.
And if the problem isn’t clear, the rest doesn’t matter.
Here’s what I tell people now: the best early pitch doesn’t sound like a sales pitch.
It sounds like someone who knows what they’re solving, who it’s for, and why it matters right now.
That’s it.
Not the future version of your company. Not the grand plan.
Just the problem, the person, and the product — all in focus.
If you’re getting blank stares or soft no’s after your pitch, don’t double down on the flash.
Get closer to the pain.
The more personal it feels, the more powerful it becomes.
Because if someone can see the person behind the problem, they’re much more likely to believe in the solution.