It was a typical Tuesday morning in downtown Chicago. The city buzzed with its usual energy, but inside her office, Sarah felt an unusual weight pressing down on her. She had worked in telesales for over five years, selling software solutions to businesses, and she was good at it—great, in fact. Her ability to connect with clients, understand their needs, and close deals was unmatched. But now, something had changed.

Sitting at her desk, surrounded by the familiar hum of ringing phones and clicking keyboards, Sarah glanced at her latest numbers. She winced. For months, her performance had been slipping. No matter how hard she tried, the rejections kept coming. And worse still, the prospects weren’t rude or dismissive—they just didn’t seem to need her anymore.

“Can’t we just get the information online?”
“Sorry, we prefer using automated tools for this.”
“We’ve moved to chatbots. They’re quicker, you know?”

Each call echoed the same sentiments. It was as if the world had suddenly decided that human interaction wasn’t necessary anymore. Sarah was starting to feel like a relic, outpaced by the rise of automation.

As she leaned back in her chair, Sarah couldn’t shake the feeling that she was fighting a losing battle. AI-driven chatbots had taken over much of the customer journey. They were fast, efficient, and always available—everything her clients seemed to want. The once-welcoming voices on the other end of the line now sounded distant, uninterested.

Her telesales team wasn’t faring much better. At their weekly meetings, the same discussions circled like vultures. Conversion rates were down. Automated systems were stealing their thunder. The whispers in the office were getting louder—rumours of a company restructure, a shift towards digital sales, and, inevitably, the downsizing of the telesales department.

Sarah’s chest tightened. If she couldn’t prove her value, her days at the company might be numbered.

The frustration was becoming unbearable. Sarah prided herself on being good at what she did. But every day, the world was moving faster, leaning more into automation, and leaving people like her behind. She spent hours cold calling, only to be turned away by potential clients who preferred the self-service approach. The personal touch that had once set her apart was now seen as a hassle—an unnecessary step in a digital world that craved speed and simplicity.

Sarah’s confidence began to waver. She felt powerless in the face of a machine-driven future that had no need for human warmth. But she wasn’t ready to give up just yet.

One afternoon, after another demoralising meeting, Sarah reached out to David, an old mentor of hers. David had been in sales for over 20 years and had seen it all—recessions, booms, changes in technology. If anyone could offer advice, it was him.

“David, I feel like I’m being replaced,” Sarah admitted, her voice tinged with frustration. “Everyone’s moving to chatbots, automation, and online tools. No one seems to need me anymore.”

David paused for a moment, then chuckled softly. “Sarah, the world may change, but people don’t.”

Confused, Sarah asked, “What do you mean?”

“Chatbots can handle the basics, sure,” David said. “But they can’t do what you do. They can’t listen like you can. They can’t understand the complex challenges a business faces. And they certainly can’t offer real, human empathy. You need to stop thinking of automation as your competition. Instead, lean into what makes you irreplaceable.”

Sarah sat up. “How do I do that?”

“Simple,” David replied. “Ask better questions. Instead of pushing your product, focus on their problems. Dig deeper. Show them that working with you gives them something a chatbot can’t—someone who genuinely cares, who listens, and who offers tailored solutions. That’s your edge. Use it.”

Sarah left the conversation feeling renewed. David was right. Instead of competing with automation, she needed to offer something it couldn’t. She spent the next evening reworking her approach, preparing for her calls the following day.

When Sarah hit the phones the next morning, everything felt different. She no longer rushed to get to the pitch. Instead, she started her calls by asking open-ended questions.

“What’s the biggest challenge you’re facing with your current system?”
“How has your business been impacted by recent changes?”
“What would your ideal solution look like?”

Sarah listened. Really listened. And, as her prospects shared their concerns, she offered insights, not from a script, but from genuine understanding. She explained how her product wasn’t just a tool—it was a service backed by people who cared, people who would be there when the chatbots couldn’t solve the complex problems.

And something shifted. Her prospects, who had been so distant before, began to open up. They asked questions in return, engaged in conversations, and appreciated the personal attention she offered. The calls no longer felt like a race to the sale but rather a collaboration between two people working towards a solution.

Within weeks, the results were undeniable. Sarah’s conversion rates were climbing. She wasn’t just hitting her targets—she was exceeding them. Her manager noticed, and soon the rest of the team began adopting her approach. Telesales wasn’t dying—it was evolving. The human touch that automation could never replicate was back in the spotlight, and Sarah had proven that it still had a place in this fast-paced, automated world.

The company, once on the verge of abandoning telesales, reconsidered. They saw the value in the personal relationships Sarah and her team were building, and they doubled down on combining automation with human expertise.

Sarah had made her point, loud and clear: in a world of chatbots and AI, people still mattered.