Command the Machines
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BAND II · MONEY
Week 3 of 12 · VIENNA · 190 m

Sell More Without Hiring a Single Rep

Two weeks of feeding. This week the machine earns.

Last week it learned your company. This week it earns its keep on revenue: tomorrow's meeting, the proposal that used to eat your evening, the objection you haven't heard yet, the deals that went quiet, and the money sleeping in your own history. One rule rides the whole week — machines draft, you send.

Not your desk? This week's moves work on any desk: a dossier before any meeting · sixty seconds of talking becomes a finished document · a machine that chases whatever has gone quiet.

Today · one task

Pick tomorrow's real meeting. Give the prompt above the company, the person, and the one line only you know — then save it as THE DOSSIER PRESS.

Week two gave the machine your company. This week it earns its keep on revenue — starting with tomorrow's meeting, where you'll know more than they do.

You'll have: THE DOSSIER PRESS saved — and tomorrow's real meeting dossiered: the company, the person, the angle, and at least one thing you didn't know.

  1. Pick tomorrow's real meeting. Not a test company — the actual one. Make sure web research is switched on for this chat; the press digs, and it needs a spade.
  2. Paste the press below with three things: the company, the person, and the one line only you know — "we met at X", "they're worried about Y". That line is the difference between a report and a weapon.
  3. Read it tonight, not in the lift. Five minutes with the dossier the evening before is the habit; the lift is where the unprepared do their reading. Save the press in your Project as THE DOSSIER PRESS.

I'm meeting {company} tomorrow — specifically {name, their role}. The one thing only I know: {we met at X / they're worried about Y}. Build my dossier, one page: (1) what the company does and how it makes money, in plain words; (2) what's changed for them lately — leadership, money, products, noise; (3) three things {name} likely cares about right now, and why; (4) three openers I could actually say out loud, none of them flattery; (5) the one question they'll hope I don't ask. Research the web and cite what you find. Where you can't verify something, write "gap" — I'd rather have a gap than a guess.

COPY

Rescue — Dossier feels generic? You gave it a company name and nothing else. Add the one line only you know — "we met at X, they're worried about Y" — and run it again. Context in, gold out.

You just built a machine. Give it a name.

Say what it does and what it's allowed to touch, then tap the button. It joins the count at the top of your screen — that count is your workforce, and it grows every week.
Did you get this done?

It told you one thing about tomorrow's meeting you didn't know.

Want more — This press now runs before every meeting, forever — five minutes in the car park beats an hour of guessing. And keep it warm: Wednesday's sparring partner borrows its research.

Tomorrow: the lesson this course was named for.

Today · one task

Talk for sixty seconds about a live deal, answer the two or three questions the prompt asks back, and send the proposal with two edits or fewer — save it as THE PROPOSAL PRESS.

This is the lesson this course was named for. Sixty seconds of talking — messy is fine — and the proposal that used to eat your evening is finished, in your template, in your voice.

You'll have: THE PROPOSAL PRESS saved — and a finished proposal for a live deal, sent today with two edits or fewer.

  1. Pick a live deal that deserves a proposal this week and open your Project — your proposal template has been on the shelf since Monday of week two, and MY VOICE since Tuesday. That was never an accident.
  2. Record sixty seconds of voice, straight into the chat: what they need, what you'd do, roughly what it costs. Don't tidy it. The mess is the brief.
  3. Paste the press below and answer its questions — it asks up to three, only what it genuinely needs (price? timing? who signs?). Then it drafts into your template, in your voice, nothing left blank. Read it once against one question: two edits or fewer? Then send it. Save the press as THE PROPOSAL PRESS.

Above is my sixty-second voice brief for a real proposal. Before you draft, ask me up to three questions — only the ones you genuinely need to close the gaps (price, timing, who signs, scope edges). Then draft the complete proposal into my standard template from the shelf, in MY VOICE: scope, deliverables, price, terms, next step. No placeholders, no [insert here], nothing left for me to fill in. If my brief and the template disagree, follow the brief and flag it at the top in one line.

COPY

Rescue — Proposal came out generic? Answer its three questions properly — the sixty seconds is the brief, the three answers are the spec. Together they're unbeatable.

You just built a machine. Give it a name.

Say what it does and what it's allowed to touch, then tap the button. It joins the count at the top of your screen — that count is your workforce, and it grows every week.
Did you get this done?

A real proposal went out today — and you changed two things or fewer before sending it.

Want more — Next time, run the whole thing from your phone: voice note in the car, answers at the robots, sent before you reach your desk. Your proposal speed is now measured in minutes — let a live deal feel that this week.

The proposal is out. Tomorrow the machine switches sides — and plays the buyer who wants to kill it.

Today · one task

Paste yesterday's proposal and one line about the buyer, spar for ten minutes, and write down your answer to the punch that landed — save the prompt as THE SPARRING PARTNER.

Yesterday the machine wrote your proposal. Today it plays the buyer who wants to kill it — and shows you the punch you didn't see coming, while it's still free.

You'll have: THE SPARRING PARTNER saved — and the objection you weren't ready for, met in rehearsal, with your answer written down.

  1. Load the ring. In your Project, paste yesterday's proposal plus one line on the buyer. If it's the same deal you dossiered on Monday, say so — the sparring partner reads the dossier and hits closer to home.
  2. Paste the press and spar for ten minutes — out loud or typed, your call. It escalates when you're handling it, and replays the punch when you're not.
  3. When one lands — the objection you had no answer for — stop and write your answer. One honest paragraph. That paragraph is today's product; the meeting where you'd have improvised it just got cheaper. Save the press as THE SPARRING PARTNER.

You are the buyer for the proposal above — the hardest one I've faced, the one who almost walked last year. Your job is to kill this deal. Open with your strongest objection. When I answer well, escalate to a harder one. When I answer badly, say "again", tell me in one line why it didn't land, and throw the same punch so I get another swing. Stay in character. Price, timing, trust, "we'll just do it ourselves", the cheaper competitor — use them all. After ten minutes, break character and tell me two things: the objection I handled worst, and the one I never saw coming.

COPY

Rescue — It's being too polite? Tell it: "Be my hardest buyer, the one who almost walked last year." Sparring partners are only useful when they hit.

You just built a machine. Give it a name.

Say what it does and what it's allowed to touch, then tap the button. It joins the count at the top of your screen — that count is your workforce, and it grows every week.
Did you get this done?

One objection surfaced that you hadn't prepared for — and your answer to it is now written down.

Want more — Before any genuinely big conversation, ten minutes in the ring first. Nothing in the room should ever be the first time — and Week 9 brings this exact move to the hardest conversations of all: people.

Three days, three weapons — the dossier, the proposal, the rehearsal. Tomorrow: the first machine this week that works while you don't.

Today · one task

Paste the prompt above into a scheduled task set for Monday 07:00, run it once now, and send the first follow-up it surfaces yourself — then add THE DEAL CHASER to The Roll.

Deals rarely die of a no — they die of silence. From today, nothing of yours goes quiet by accident: the chaser reads your own sent mail and hands you the follow-up, already written.

You'll have: THE DEAL CHASER on The Roll — every deal-shaped thread that's gone quiet, surfaced weekly with a drafted follow-up waiting. You tap send.

  1. Open a scheduled task and paste the order below. It reads your own sent mail — no pipeline system needed. The thread itself is the context, which is exactly why the drafts come out good.
  2. Run it once, live, right now, and watch. The first quiet deal surfaces with its follow-up drafted, in front of you. Read the draft. Good? Send it yourself. That's today's win — done before the schedule even exists.
  3. Set it to Mondays 07:00, name it — THE DEAL CHASER — and sign The Roll: what it does, what it may touch. This one drafts and queues only — it never sends. Write that denial into the Roll next to its name.

Every Monday at 07:00, read my sent mail from the last 90 days. Find deal-shaped threads — anything mentioning a quote, a proposal, a price or a next step — where the other side has gone quiet for 7 days or more. For each: one line on the deal and how long it's been silent, then a drafted follow-up that continues THAT thread in MY VOICE — short, human, no guilt-tripping. Queue the drafts for me; you never send anything, ever. If a thread is properly dead — they said no — leave it in peace and tell me so.

COPY

Rescue — It surfaced threads that aren't deals? Tell it what a deal looks like for you — "anything mentioning a quote, proposal or price" — and run again. One sentence of teaching, permanently smarter.

You just built a machine. Give it a name.

Say what it does and what it's allowed to touch, then tap the button. It joins the count at the top of your screen — that count is your workforce, and it grows every week.
Did you get this done?

One quiet deal surfaced with its follow-up drafted — and you sent it.

Want more — Run a proper pipeline system? Point the same order at it and the chaser sharpens further. And hold the pattern — Week 7 aims this exact engine at overdue invoices, where silence costs you twice.

Name it, note its powers, sign The Roll — worker number two reports for duty every Monday. Tomorrow the same engine digs for money you've already forgotten.

Today · one task

Run the prompt above tonight on eighteen months of sent mail. Over coffee tomorrow, give each draft a verdict — approve, edit or kill — and send the survivors yourself.

Your own history is full of money that just went quiet — proposals that fizzled, good clients who drifted, hands you shook and never called. Tonight the machine digs through it; tomorrow five revival drafts wait for your verdict.

You'll have: THE REVIVAL PRESS saved — and five gone-quiet contacts from your own history, each with a personalised revival draft waiting for approve, edit or kill.

  1. Run the press below tonight. It reads eighteen months of your sent mail, picks the five contacts most worth reviving, and drafts each one as a continuation of the real thread — because there is one.
  2. Hold your verdict for the morning, over coffee: approve, edit or kill, each in under a minute. Killing is a legitimate verdict — a bad revival costs more than no revival.
  3. Send the survivors yourself. Then save it as THE REVIVAL PRESS — from now on, it runs any morning you want pipeline.
The Send Law

You didn't write these. You still send every one. That's not a limitation — it's why this works: the drafting is the machine's job, the relationship is yours, and your name still means a human chose these words. Anything that leaves this building is sent by you. That rule never changes — no matter how good the drafts get.

Read my sent mail for the last 18 months. Find the five contacts most worth reviving — proposals that fizzled without a no, good clients gone quiet, warm conversations that simply stopped. For each: one line on who they are and where it left off, then a revival draft in MY VOICE that continues the REAL thread — reference what actually happened, no "just checking in", no fake urgency, short enough to answer from a phone. Queue all five for my verdict. You draft only; you never send. If fewer than five are genuinely worth reviving, give me fewer and say why — quality over quota.

COPY

Rescue — Morning drafts feel off-key? Kill them all — killing is a legitimate verdict — and tell it which ONE was closest and why. Tomorrow's five will be twice as good.

You just built a machine. Give it a name.

Say what it does and what it's allowed to touch, then tap the button. It joins the count at the top of your screen — that count is your workforce, and it grows every week.
Did you get this done?

Five drafts judged in minutes — and the survivors went out under your name, sent by you.

Want more — Cold lists are the upgrade, and the caution comes attached: cold is a different game with different rules, and your sending reputation is an asset you only lose once. Warm first — there's more money in your history than you think.

Week three is in. The machine preps your meetings, writes your proposals, spars as your buyer, chases your quiet deals and mines your history — and every word that left the building, you sent. Next week: your marketing department, minus the retainer.

Week 3

The machine earns its keep now.

Five for five. Tomorrow's meetings come pre-armed, proposals take a minute of talking, hard conversations get rehearsed while they're free, no deal goes quiet by accident, and your own history just coughed up warm pipeline. Worker number two is on The Roll — and everything that left the building this week, you sent.

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The week's quiz · seven questionsNO PASS MARK · IT TEACHES
Continue → Week 4