CEO Journal 001: The Day I Couldn't Pitch Roundi

Behind our apartment is a small shopping centre with several product stores. There's one wholesale shop I often use when I don't feel like going to a supermarket.

One day, while sitting in my car, I decided I'd finally pitch Roundi to one of the shop owners.

I bought my items, opened my mouth to pitch and froze.

I walked back to the car and sat there trying to understand the fear. Was it fear of judgment? Fear of sounding unpolished? Or the discomfort of feeling like I was asking busy strangers for their time?

I tried again at another shop, asking questions, pretending to browse, but still no pitch.

That's when it hit me: the problem wasn't the pitch. It was the idea of selling.

Rethinking "Sell Me This Pen"

We all dislike being sold to. The kind where someone pushes features and forces a conversation you didn't ask for. I didn't want to be that person. So I asked myself: Is there a better way to sell without sounding like a salesman?

We've all heard the question, "Sell me this pen." The obvious answer is to list features: premium grip, smooth ink flow, professional design. But I think the better answer starts with a question.

Last year, I spent over an hour at the bank filling out forms, not because the teller was slow, but because I was struggling to write. I'm dyslexic, and after COVID I had subconsciously avoided pens altogether. Every mistake meant reprinting forms. Even my signature was a problem.

At that moment, you couldn't sell me a pen by talking about ink quality or grip. I'd buy it and throw it away.

The better question would've been: Do you write often? That answer would guide everything else.

Ironically, today I write constantly. My notebook and pen are constant companions. Writing helps me organize my chaotic thoughts, and the Roundi blog has become a kind of journal.

That experience reframed sales for me entirely.

What I Learned Sitting in That Car

Sales isn't persuasion. It's asking good questions. It's understanding real problems deeply enough to know whether you can actually help.

So sitting in that car, I scrapped my pitch: "Roundi is a platform that helps businesses deliver efficiently while reducing cost."

And replaced it with questions:

• Tell me about your business. How you started, who you sell to, and what a typical week of orders looks like.
• How do sales happen for you today? Walk-ins, WhatsApp, calls, social media?
• Are your customers mostly repeat buyers, or one-offs? What keeps them coming back?

That's when I realized: selling isn't talking. It's listening, properly.

The shop owners I was afraid to approach? They weren't waiting for a pitch. They were waiting for someone who actually understood their day-to-day struggles. Someone who asked better questions than "Can I tell you about my product?"

Sometimes the hardest part of building a business isn't the product. It's unlearning what we think selling means.