When I speak to groups of municipal or county clerks, the audience is almost always 95% women. And I love that. I tailor every talk to the room I’m in, but there’s one analogy I come back to again and again because it always lands.

I’ll ask them: "If you knew you had one car that you were going to drive for the rest of your life, how would you take care of it?"

Oh, you already know the answer.

You’d baby that thing.
You’d wash it. Wax it.
Check the air in the tires.
Change the oil on time—every time.
You’d make sure everything was running exactly as it should, because it has to last.

And then I say:

"You do have one vehicle you’re going to live in for the rest of your life.  It’s your body."

I like to call it the “meat suit.” (That usually gets a laugh.)

But it’s true. And I didn’t fully understand that until later in life that I was actually in training for old age.

I didn’t just want to get older. I wanted to stay strong. Vital. Clear. Alive.

That meant taking care of my body.
And my mind.
Because this is the only one I get.

That message always resonates—but at a recent event with the North Carolina County Clerks, something unexpected happened.

There was a gentleman in the room.

Completely outnumbered… and completely locked in.

When I shared the car analogy, his eyes lit up. You could feel it. He wasn’t just listening; he was recognizing something.

The next day, I was at the post office shipping out books that hadn’t sold (because let’s be honest, not every event is a sell-out moment), and I turned around…

...there he was.

Sparkling blue eyes. Big smile. Instant recognition.

He thanked me for the analogy and said, “I spent over 40 years in the car business. I know exactly what you’re talking about.”

Well, now I was curious. We started talking—and what unfolded stopped me in my tracks.

This man was 82 years old.

Eighty-two.

Sharp as a tack. Engaged. Alive.
He had retired 25 years ago and, since then, had started three additional businesses.
He runs a hobby farm with goats. 
Has an Airbnb on his property.
And Denny Bucher had been re-elected to another term on the Craven County Board of Commissioners.

I mean… come on.

This wasn’t someone winding down.
This was someone fully alive.

So of course, I kept asking questions.

And then he told me a story I’ll never forget.

He said his career started at seventeen. It was summer, and there were no jobs available—except one: selling for the Fuller Brush Company. Door-to-door. Everything from toothbrushes to scrub brushes.

There was just one problem.

You had to be 21 to get the job.

But he was determined. Full of fire. He said, “Just give me a chance.”

And they did.

They gave him one small territory for one summer.

A “good” week back then? $300.

On his first assignment, he shadowed a seasoned salesperson. They worked an entire block for hours.

No sales.

Not one.

Discouraged, he turned to his mentor and said, “We just wasted the whole morning.”

And his mentor—beaming with excitement—said:

“What are you talking about? I’m thrilled.”

He said,

“Every ‘no’ gets me closer to the eventual ‘yes.’”

What an uplifting approach to the word “no!”

Later in his Fuller Brush career, he saw it play out in real time.

Back then, they would pay Boy Scouts a penny to go ahead of the salespeople and place flyers on doors, letting homeowners know someone would be stopping by.

After a series of consecutive “no’s,” he knocked on a door that had also been prepped.

The woman opened it and said:

“I’ve been waiting for you.”

She went on to explain that her daughter was getting married and she wanted to buy her everything.

Everything.

Now remember—a great week back then was $300.

Denny made $300 in one day.

One day!

Legendary.

And proof of something we all need to remember:

You might just be one “no” away from your “yes.”

I felt that one deeply.

Because in that moment, I wasn’t just listening to his story. I was living my own.

I had just come off a stretch of about three months of writing proposals. Good ones. Thoughtful ones. Well-received ones. But the response to each? "Not quite the right fit."

When you’re an entrepreneur building something on your own, every “no” has a little sting to it.

You start to wonder:

Am I doing the right thing?
Is this working?
Is this worth it?

And then, standing in a post office line, this 82-year-old man who had lived, built, failed, succeeded, and kept going handed me the perspective I didn’t know I needed.

Maybe the “no” isn’t rejection. Maybe it’s progression.

Maybe it’s not a sign that you’re off track.

Maybe—just maybe—

You’re getting closer to your yes.

So if you’re in a season right now where the doors aren’t opening. Where the responses aren’t coming.
Where it feels like you’re doing all the right things and still not seeing the results…

...Don’t stop.

Don’t retreat.

Don’t make it mean something it doesn’t.

You might not be failing.

You might be closing the distance.

Because somewhere out there there’s a door already prepared.
There’s a person already waiting.
There’s a “yes” with your name on it.



And you might be just one “no” away.