Before the Door Opens: What I Think About in the Car Before Every Big Pitch

There’s this moment I’ve come to respect — a quiet pause, just before I step out of the car and walk into the hospital. Engine humming. ID tag on the dashboard. Bag packed with samples and product sheets. I sit there, not because I’m stalling… but because this is the moment. The one before everything begins.

I think every medical rep has their version of this. For me, it’s sacred. That stillness, that breath — it’s where nerves meet purpose.

The Ritual

Checking the Usuals — But It’s Never Just That

Of course, there’s the checklist. Got the doctor’s name right? Product brochure stacked properly? Slide deck on standby? Badge clipped? Hair neat? Smile ready?

But beyond that — the real stuff starts to creep in.

I catch myself rehearsing the opener. “Good morning, Doctor. I’ll be brief…” But sometimes, I just sit quietly, eyes on the building. I wonder if this is the day I get that breakthrough. Or get completely dismissed. Both have happened before.

There are days I silently pray. Other times I just breathe and let the anxiety melt into the seat. Either way, it’s never just about the pitch.

The Weight That Doesn’t Fit in the Bag

Carrying Targets, Expectations... and Life

Every rep knows this feeling. It’s not just the hospital door you’re about to walk through — it’s everything you carry with you.

The monthly numbers. That tough area manager call. A comment from a doctor that still stings. Maybe the team’s falling behind. Maybe you’re falling behind.

And on top of all that?

Life. 

The fight you had this morning. The bills piling up. The family you want to give more time to but just… can’t, not this month. Sometimes the heaviest baggage isn’t visible. But it’s there, sitting beside you, just before you walk in.

What This Moment Has Taught Me

Pause > Rush

Early on, I used to rush in. No warm-up, no pause. Just jump straight into pitch mode.

But I’ve learned that the few minutes in the car are more valuable than any product training. That’s where I remind myself: be calm, be useful, be real.

Sometimes I repeat a mantra. Other times, I just sit and listen to the silence. That little moment grounds me. It's where fear becomes focus.

The Truth About What We Sell

It's Not Just Products — It’s Presence

Sure, we sell medications. But that’s not all. What we really bring is presence.

Doctors see reps every day. Some go in loud, some go in desperate, some go in robotic. I remind myself — don’t be that. Be present. Be human. Be helpful.

That quiet moment in the car is where I decide who I want to be that day. Sometimes I don’t feel my best — but I show up anyway. And more often than not, that makes all the difference.

Final Thoughts — The Real Door We Walk Through

Yes, I walk through the hospital doors. But first, I walk through a door inside myself — the one that says, “No matter what happens, I’m showing up.”

That moment in the car isn’t just pre-pitch routine. It’s where everything gets real.

So, to all my fellow reps — if you’ve ever sat in your car, took a deep breath, and hoped today goes well… you’re not alone.

That quiet moment? 

That’s where the magic starts.

 

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