Most women aren’t afraid of selling, they’re afraid of sounding like someone they’re not. In each weekly episode of The Lede, I help founders stop hiding behind content and start conversations that lead to clients, collaborations, and confidence (without the cringe), because let’s be real: “Just post valuable content” is not a business development strategy. In my corner of the internet, you’ll find story-led sales strategy, spicy takes on what actually works, and DM-friendly messaging that helps you build a pipeline you’re proud of, one real conversation at a time.
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When the payoff never came…
Published about 1 year ago • 3 min read
There’s a certain strangeness to peeling a thin layer of lip stain off your mouth. Like snakeskin. Glossy, gummy, faintly gross, and yet, weirdly satisfying.
maybe not this kind of satisfying tho
Years ago, before TikTok made peel-off beauty products part of the daily scroll, I was modeling a pioneering product live on QVC. The peel-off lip stain was new, bizarre, and slightly misunderstood. My job was to show viewers this wasn’t just another lipstick; this was different. Durable. Transfer-proof. The kind of product you could apply once and forget about all day.
The secret to proving that was what we called the money shot.
The moment when the product dried just right, and with one slow, steady pull, the entire film lifted off in a single piece. If you did it well, you could hold the peel up like a tiny trophy to the camera while showcasing your perfectly stained pout, evidence that the lip stain worked exactly as promised.
The client made it clear how much this mattered. So much so, he told us: Whoever nails the money shot live on air, I’ll double your rate.
Double. In cash.
You better believe I practiced. Every model did. We spent hours applying, waiting, peeling, rehearsing the angle of the pull, the tilt of the hand. We turned a crazy-looking process into choreography.
And when the cameras rolled, I was the only one who pulled it off.
Clean peel. No cracks. No crumble. I smiled, held up my little lip-skin snake for the world to see, rubbed my lips together, proving they were transfer-proof, and thought, Ka-ching. I did it.
I didn’t say a word about it afterward (I’m not that thirsty). I just packed up, ready to head home. But as life would have it, I passed the client in the hallway.
He grinned, clapped me on the shoulder, and said, "Great job, Tara! You got the money shot."
I laughed and replied, "Well, you made it worth my while."
And then he looked at me and said the five words that ruined it, “Oh, I was just joking.”
My smile froze. My inner Philadelphian begged to be released.
All the effort. All the trust. All the incentive. Gone in an instant.
I never worked for that client again. Not because of the money, but because he showed me exactly who he was: someone whose word couldn’t be trusted.
And here’s why that memory still sticks with me.
Every day, on LinkedIn and inside DMs, I see the same thing happen.
The connection request that promises collaboration, but turns into a hard pitch.
The “I can get you 20 high-ticket clients this month” messages with no curiosity or rapport beforehand.
The testimonials and “guarantees” that melt the moment you press for details (or do a quick Google search).
The bait-and-switch. The broken word. The “just kidding.”
Here’s the problem: trust doesn’t bounce back.
You don’t get a second chance to prove yourself. You don’t get to say, just kidding and still expect loyalty. Not in this economy, not in a world where people already doubt everything they read.
The lip stain client thought he was offering motivation. What he actually offered was a glimpse into how he’d treat the people who trusted him most.
And that’s the real money shot: not the peel, not the proof, but the promise. The word you give. The follow-through you deliver when the message is no longer in the inbox, when the post has scrolled away, when no one is watching.
Because in business, as in beauty, the peel only matters if the stain stays.
The Latest
(adding in a new personal section, lmk if it should stay)
I'm in a season of life where the days feel simultaneously 48 seconds and 48 hours long. We homeschool (10th year strong), but we're never home. We're currently shuttling between: Fencing, Girls on the Run, a homeschool theater troupe, piano, boxing, robotics, and several field trip groups. Oh, and lots and lots of books.
U.S. History, with a multicultural perspective
Ordinarily, I'd have to shut everything down to focus exclusively on the kids. Returning to work only when they've found their rhythms (& I've lost mine). But this year, I HAVE A DRIVER! I feel so free & also terrified because, 'Murica.
But it's definitely not all bad. He invited/commanded me on our first date, drove, and paid for everything!
🥹
The full Leadwise Sprint is on waitlist again until I have more space in my days, so I'm reworking it into snackable, week-long versions. Still, milestones like this show me that I'll be empty-nest-ish, with lots more time on my hands before I know it.
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I started a Substack to house my more in-depth guides! Join me if you're looking for more strategy than story.
Most women aren’t afraid of selling, they’re afraid of sounding like someone they’re not. In each weekly episode of The Lede, I help founders stop hiding behind content and start conversations that lead to clients, collaborations, and confidence (without the cringe), because let’s be real: “Just post valuable content” is not a business development strategy. In my corner of the internet, you’ll find story-led sales strategy, spicy takes on what actually works, and DM-friendly messaging that helps you build a pipeline you’re proud of, one real conversation at a time.
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