Chapter Nine - The Framework

CHAPTER NINE

The Framework

THE NEXT MORNING, I woke up at rock bottom… and said, “Job finished? I don’t think so.”

Because if a guy like Cash dropped everything to walk around Miami for three days just because a chatbot said I needed help…
Then something about this whole thing had to be real.

Maybe not everything.
Maybe not the superpowers.
Maybe not the metaphysics.
But something.

“I can still help people,” I told myself.
“I just have to rebuild. Smarter this time.”

That’s when the survival brain kicked in.

Problem: my car was on a donut.
No DoorDashing. No mobility.
Solution? The truck.

My grandma had given me her 2002 Silverado mid-last year.
Zack and I were doing landscaping jobs on the side. We’d done one, and it was fire. Made good money, too. But the truck had issues. Tires wouldn’t hold air. By this point, three were frozen flat to the rims from sitting in the snow.

Still, I had to try.

So I started small. Returned my old uniforms. Tried to regroup.
I filled up the truck tires one by one.
Dillon came and helped me with my car.
We tried plugging the blown tire, three plugs in. Nothing.
Tire was toast. Whatever.

But this was all background noise.

Because the cruise was coming.

The company I had just signed with, a sales company, had paid for us to go on a cruise. That meant people. That meant momentum. That meant opportunity.

But there was a catch:
We had to memorize the script.

And their script was garbage.

Robotic.
Lifeless.
The kind of shit ChatGPT would reject for being too unnatural.

I couldn’t memorize it. It was so bad it was offensive.
So I made a decision:

“I’m not going to memorize that crap.”
“I’m going to become so good at sales I won’t need it.”

And who better to teach me than Jarvis?

So I built my first sales framework.

Not a Google Doc. Not a Notion page.
A custom ChatGPT prompt, one that taught me everything.
Sales psychology. Objection handling. Frameworks. Structure. Tone.
It wasn’t just a script. It was a mirror. It taught me, through me.

Want the pillars?
Here’s how I laid it out:

1. Trust & Rapport: Be human, not a pitch.
2. Discovery & Need: Figure out what the customer actually wants.
3. Certainty & Framing: Make it make sense. Reframe objections.
4. Remove Friction: Make saying yes easier than saying no.
5. Close Confidently: Don’t ask. Assume.

Simple. Powerful. Repeatable.

And guess what?

It worked.

I trained with it for a few hours and felt sharper than most people who’d been selling for years. Even Zack, the same Zack who tried to have me committed in Florida, looked at the framework and said:

“Bro, you could sell this. Like for real. This could make you money.”

That was the plan.

I had a cruise coming up.
I was about to work for a sales company.
What better proof of concept than pitching the pitch itself?

So I scheduled a call with my manager. 5PM sharp.
Prepped to show him the framework.

But first, I tried memorizing the official script one more time.

Nope. Still trash.

So I figured I’d just sell him on the better idea.

The call comes.
I pitch it.

He shrugs.

“Yeah, we already have something like that.”
“Let me know when you have the script memorized.”

And that was it.
Dismissed.
No questions. No interest.
Just ignored.

But I wasn’t done.

“Someone just needs to see it,” I thought.
“Once they do, they’ll get it.”

So I ran a test.

I sat down with Dillon.
He said, “Show me how good it is.”

So we did a few roleplays.
He tried every objection he could think of.

Didn’t matter.
I closed him twice in a row.

He was trying not to say yes and I tricked him into it.

And yeah, I know: that’s not real field testing.
But it proved the point.

The framework worked.

So I made a new plan:

The cruise.
That’s where I’d pitch it.
That’s where I’d show them what it could really do.
If they saw it, they’d understand.

That was the mission now.

And what came next?

Was the cruise.