I have been sitting with a simple question. When customers bring me problems, how do I decide which one deserves my full attention? I find myself listening to a pattern, a drumbeat that cuts through the noise, and I keep notes long after the call ends. The test is not whether a problem sounds interesting to me. The test is whether it changes their lives. I have come up with seven key questions to ask myself when pondering whether to invest in solving one particular customer problem rather than another.
Do enough people have this problem? I start by asking myself if this is a lonely complaint or a shared burden. In my notebook, I draw tallies for how many times I have heard the same phrase from different people, in different companies, on different days. When the language starts to rhyme, when the story shows up in meetings that never touch each other, I take notice. One voice can be an anecdote. Ten voices become a market.
Do they feel it acutely and frequently? A rare headache does not move budgets. A daily migraine does. I listen for frequency and for pain. If the problem shows up every morning before they open their laptop, if it interrupts dinner, if it steals sleep, there is energy there. Recurring pain is a flywheel. Every spin adds momentum to the desire for relief.
Do they lose more money or time, or face greater risk, by not solving it? I ask what happens if they do nothing? The answers reveal the true scale. If inaction drains revenue this quarter, if it burns through hours that could be spent on customers, if it exposes the team to compliance risk or reputation damage, then the cost of delay is already a tax they are paying. When the tax is obvious, the will to act becomes obvious as well.
Does the buyer have a budget and the authority to spend it? I learned that enthusiasm without authority is a kind of mirage. I try to find the person who can say yes, and who has money in the right bucket to make yes real. If that person is leaning forward, if they already spend on adjacent tools, if they can reallocate without a committee, then I am close to a real decision. I still care about champions, I just make sure a buyer with a pen is in the room.
Does the solution feel credible and low risk? Trust does not come from adjectives. It comes from proof. I show simple demos, real numbers, and short trials that let the customer experience the outcome in their own environment. I remove commitment from the first step. I shorten the path to value. When the first step looks small and safe, the second step takes itself.
Does it align with existing workflow and priorities? Even a great fix will fail if it asks the team to become a different company. I watch how they already work, which systems they open first, and what meetings they defend on the calendar. If my solution sits where they already live and speaks the language of their current priorities, then adoption becomes frictionless. The more I fit into their rhythm, the less I have to push.
Is the transformation clear and valuable? People do not buy features. They buy a before and an after. I try to paint that picture in plain words. Before, weekly reporting took four hours and three people. After, it now takes ten minutes and a single click. Before, deals stall, and there is no visibility. After that, stalled deals move and the forecast becomes reliable. When the new world is visible and measured, the decision becomes a story they can repeat to their team.
When all of these signals line up, focus becomes easy, and pricing becomes a formality, not a debate. You do not chase the sale. You serve the need, and you make the first win effortless. In that moment, you do not even need to “sell.” The customer is already sold. Having said all these seven things, these are idealistic in nature. I rarely achieve all of them and often fail to see clearly or follow my own advice. However, it is a good exercise to remind myself of what to aim for!
