There’s a person behind every number.

I grew up in a small town in India, and for a girl growing up there, even dreaming about leaving home and building a life on her own terms was a BIG thing.

Girls were often encouraged to make the safe choices. Study, get married, settle down. And there’s nothing wrong with any of that if that’s what you want! But I always felt that it should be a choice, not something that’s already decided for you because you’re a girl.

When I say I had big dreams, I don’t mean I was sitting there dreaming of making a million dollars (although, I’d LOVE that hahaha). I wanted something much simpler, yet something that still feels out of reach for a lot of girls in India: FREEDOM.

The freedom to make my own decisions, leave home, build a career, make mistakes, fall flat on my face because of MY choices, and figure things out on my own. I wanted to know what I was capable of if I gave myself the chance.

I eventually moved to Mumbai to study journalism. I loved writing and was the kind of person who could happily write 2,000 words about almost anything. Sales wasn’t even part of the plan, haha. I somehow stumbled into it, and here we are!

Looking back, I think journalism and sales have more in common than people realise. Both require curiosity, understanding people, asking questions, and knowing how to tell a story. So maybe the transition wasn’t as random as I thought.

Today, I work in sales, talk about it on LinkedIn, and have built a career I never planned for. But more than anything, I’m grateful that I get to make these choices for myself.

I think that’s what still drives me. I’m curious, I like figuring things out, and I’m willing to try even when I don’t have everything figured out. And I hope that by being open about my journey, another girl from a small town might look at me and think, “If she can do it, maybe I can too.”

Because the dream was never just about having a successful career. It was about having the freedom to decide what success looks like for ME.

If my story can make even one girl from a small town think, “Wait, maybe I can do that too,” then that means a lot more to me than any job title ever could.

I grew up in a lower-middle-class family, living in rented homes and moving around quite a bit. So I understood pretty early on how important money is, but I also learnt that it isn’t everything.

I’m a daughter to TWO extremely hardworking parents, and I think a lot of how I see life today comes from watching them.

My dad started working when he was just 16 because his family couldn’t afford to support his education. My mum lost her parents when she was a child, so she didn’t get the chance to do a lot of things she might have wanted to do either.

Both of them had their own struggles, but they never stopped hoping for better things. They invested so much of what they had in me, and watching them made me a ridiculously optimistic person. I genuinely believed I could change my circumstances if I worked hard enough. I didn’t know exactly how I’d get there, but I knew I wanted to try.

For the longest time, I’d say, “One day, I’ll have my own house.” It was one of those dreams I kept talking about, and now I’m ACTUALLY building my house. 🥹

And honestly, seeing that happen has made me even more optimistic about life. Something I used to talk about as a distant dream is becoming real, and it’s made me realise how much can change when you keep working towards something.

I think growing up the way I did also taught me to look beyond what I see on the surface. You never really know what someone is going through, what responsibilities they have, or how much effort it takes for them to show up every day.

I carry that with me at work, too. Sales is a very numbers-driven industry, and it’s easy to look at someone’s performance and form an opinion. But I’ve had good months, bad months, days when I’ve felt like I could do anything, and days when I’ve questioned myself. So I try to remember that there’s a person behind every number.

I love working with people who are willing to learn, put in the effort, and keep trying. But I also think it’s important to give people room to make mistakes, ask questions, and figure things out without feeling like one bad day defines them.

My parents worked incredibly hard to give me opportunities they didn’t have themselves. I think that’s why I’m so big on growth, both for myself and the people I work with. I want to keep building a life I’m proud of, and I want the people around me to feel like they can build one for themselves, too.

Honestly, I think this started with my very first job in sales.

For the first two months, I couldn’t perform. All I knew was rejection. And nothing else, haha.

I remember trying so hard to figure things out, questioning myself, and wondering if I was even cut out for sales. But I kept going, and eventually, things started to click.

I think that experience is also why I started talking about rejection so openly on LinkedIn.

I’d see everyone sharing their wins, the meetings they booked, the quotas they crushed, and the amazing things happening in their careers. And while those wins are absolutely worth celebrating, I kept thinking about how REJECTION is probably the most common and constant part of sales.

We ALL get rejected. We all have days when nobody wants to take our calls, our emails get ignored, and we start questioning if we’re even good at what we do. Yet, we don’t talk about those moments nearly as much as we talk about the wins.

So I thought, why not?

Why not share the 73 no’s I got in a week? Why not post my rejection of the day? Why not talk about the days when I question whether sales is even for me?

Not every experience needs to be a success story to be worth sharing. Sometimes, it’s just nice to know that someone else is going through the same thing as you.

And honestly, I’ve learnt that rejection doesn’t magically stop bothering you with experience. You just get better at understanding that it’s part of the job, not a reflection of your worth as a person.

Even now, I have days when I question myself. The difference is that I have enough experience to know that one bad day, one bad week, or even one bad month doesn’t define my entire career.

When I see newer reps struggling with rejection, I want them to know that they don’t have to be amazing at sales from day one. I spent my first two months struggling, too. You can be bad at something, learn, get better, and still end up loving what you do.

I don’t think I have some secret formula for resilience. I just keep showing up, trying different things, and reminding myself that the next call could go differently.

And if sharing the messy parts of my journey makes even one person feel less alone in theirs, then I’ll happily keep doing it.

Joining Salesforge changed my career. I learnt SO SO much during those two years, and honestly, I don’t think I’d be the salesperson I am today without that experience.

Being the first SDR was scary, though. There was no playbook, no one ahead of me to show me how things were done, and this expectation that you’d figure it out and make it work. The tricky part was that even you didn’t know if what you were doing would work!

My first three months were extremely harsh. I was learning on the job, figuring out the tools, trying different outreach strategies, and constantly questioning whether I was doing things right. Having a good network, being willing to learn from other people, and understanding the tools available to me helped A LOT.

But I think one of the biggest reasons I was able to find my feet was that I allowed myself to be ME.

I kept testing things I liked, experimenting with different approaches to outreach, and figuring out what worked for me instead of blindly following what everyone else was doing. Not everything worked, obviously, but that’s the whole point of experimenting.

Over time, I found my rhythm, started getting results, and eventually went from being the first SDR to interviewing, onboarding, and helping ramp the people who joined after me. That was a pretty cool full-circle moment.

When new people joined, I wanted them to feel comfortable enough to try things their way. I knew how intimidating it could be to walk into a role where you’re expected to deliver but don’t necessarily know where to start.

I wanted them to know what had worked for us, what hadn’t, and why. But I also wanted them to feel like they didn’t have to do everything exactly the way I did it. What worked for me might not work for them, and that’s okay!

I think the culture I wanted to build was one where people felt comfortable asking questions, sharing ideas, experimenting, and even failing without feeling like they’d messed everything up. Of course, results matter, but you can’t expect people to figure everything out if you don’t give them the space to learn.

Being the first SDR taught me that sometimes you have to figure things out as you go. But being the person who helped the next SDRs come in taught me that just because something was difficult for you doesn’t mean it has to be equally difficult for the people who come after you.

And if I could make their starting point a little less scary than mine was, I’d consider that a win.

I think this motto actually started with something my mum told me when I was younger. She said something along the lines of, “People who are embarrassed to start will never achieve anything in life.” I don’t remember her exact words, but that thought really stayed with me.

Growing up in a small town, I always wanted to do more with my life, even when I had no idea what that would look like. I wanted to learn English when hardly anyone around me, at home or at school, spoke it. I tried modelling, participated in speeches and talent shows, and travelled to different cities for opportunities.

And the thing about growing up in a small town is that everyone knows everyone. If you try something and fail, chances are your entire family will hear about it. I remember crying sometimes and telling myself, “It’s only embarrassing if you’re embarrassed.”

Because honestly, why should I be embarrassed about trying something I genuinely wanted to do? I was 16. I didn’t know what I wanted to become, but I knew I wanted to explore, learn, and see what I was capable of. And I think I’m here today partly because that younger version of me kept trying, even when things didn’t work out.

People still bring up some of the things I tried and failed at back then, but I don’t look at them as things I should regret. They were experiences that helped me become who I am today.

I think that’s also why I’m comfortable sharing the imperfect side of sales with people on LinkedIn. We see so many posts about hitting targets, booking meetings, and celebrating wins, but not enough about the 73 rejections that came before that one meeting, or the days when you wonder if you’re even good at your job.

I want people to see that side too. Not because failures are something to celebrate on their own, but because they’re a normal part of trying to get better at anything. You can be good at your job and still have a terrible week. You can be ambitious and still not have everything figured out.

And I think being openly imperfect gives other people permission to do the same. When someone is willing to admit they made a mistake, ask a question, or share something that didn’t work, it makes it easier for everyone else to be honest too. You stop pretending you know everything and start learning from each other.

That’s especially important in a team. I want people to feel comfortable experimenting, sharing ideas, and making mistakes without being afraid that one wrong move will define them. Of course, results matter, but people need room to learn before they can consistently deliver them.

At the end of the day, I’d rather be the person who tried something and failed than the person who never tried because she was worried about what everyone would say. That’s something my mum taught me, and it’s a lesson I keep coming back to, both in life and in sales.

Honestly, I think this is one of the biggest wins in my career so far.

For the first time in my career, I don’t have a quota hanging over my head. I’m being trusted and measured more on my input than just my output, and that’s a pretty big shift for someone who’s spent her career in sales.

At Citrine, I’m handling the entire outbound process. I’m figuring things out, testing different approaches, building from scratch, failing, learning, and trying again. And that’s HUGE for me.

I’m not just following a process or trying to hit a number. I’m responsible for figuring out what the process should look like in the first place. There’s no guarantee that everything I try will work, and honestly, I’m still learning as I go.

What I appreciate most is having the space to experiment and knowing that one approach not working doesn’t automatically mean I’ve failed. The effort, thought, and learning that go into building something matter too, even when the results aren’t immediate.

I think that’s what made this step exciting for me. I wanted to take on more ownership and challenge myself in a different way. I’m still in sales, but I’m getting to think beyond the immediate results and focus on what I’m building over time.

At Citrine, I want to build an outbound engine that works, something scalable that the team can continue to build on. I want to look back and know that I helped create something from scratch, learned a lot along the way, and made it better through all the things that worked AND the things that didn’t.

I’m still figuring things out, and I don’t have all the answers. But being trusted to figure them out myself is what makes this opportunity so exciting.

I think I talk about my younger self so much because I genuinely just want to hug her.

Being different wasn’t always easy, especially when people around you are constantly doubting you because your idea of life doesn’t look like everyone else’s safe, predictable path.

Wanting a different life, questioning things, and being an extremely opinionated girl came with its own set of struggles. It’s hard to believe in yourself when people keep making you question whether you’re doing the right thing.

I didn’t know what I wanted to become, but I knew I wanted to do more with my life. And I think every time I do something I’m proud of today, I immediately think about 13-year-old or 16-year-old Sneha.

Because that girl would be LOSING HER MIND. Hahaha.

I think she’d be a big fan of me, and that’s honestly such a funny thing to think about. The girl who wanted to explore different opportunities, try things outside her comfort zone, and build a life on her own terms is actually doing it.

And I wish I could tell her that being different isn’t a curse. That working hard matters more than where you start. That you don’t have to follow the same path as everyone else to end up somewhere you’re proud of.

You can build a career, live the life you want, be ambitious, give people all the love you have, be extremely empathetic, AND still have opinions. You don’t have to pick one.

I think that’s what makes me the happiest. I’m not just building a life my younger self would be proud of. I’m building one where she doesn’t have to hide parts of herself to fit in.

And for any young girl reading this, especially someone from a small town who has never seen someone like herself in a sales room, I just hope you give yourself a chance.

Try things. Be bad at them. Fail. Try again. You don’t need to have everything figured out, and you definitely don’t need everyone’s approval before you start doing something with your life.

I’m a girl from a small town who didn’t have some big roadmap for where she wanted to go. And now I’ve been recognised as one of the 100 Powerful Women in Sales THREE times.

If you’d told 13-year-old Sneha that, she would have absolutely lost it.

So if there’s one thing I want another girl like me to take from my story, it’s that where you come from doesn’t have to decide where you end up. You can be the first person in your family to do something. You can take a completely different path. You can make mistakes and still figure things out.

Just please don’t count yourself out before you’ve even given yourself a chance.

I think that’s what I’d tell my younger self, too. We did okay, girl. We’re still figuring it out, but we’re doing okay.