Shane Parrish

So she borrowed the money, leaving her children with a neighbor, and took a bus to Dallas.

Several hundred Stanley dealers filled the convention hall, and Mary Kay sat in the back watching everything with an eye for detail.

The company president, F. Stanley Beaveridge, took the stage to crown the queen of sales.

The winner walked up to thunderous applause, and then Beaveridge presented her prize, an alligator handbag, a status symbol that announced to the world, I am successful.

After the ceremony, Mary Kay walked up to Stanley and introduced herself.

Then she looked him in the eye and told him she would be the queen of sales next year.

He paused and steadied her face for a moment, and then he said five words.

Somehow, I think you will.

Something shifted in that moment.

Someone with real authority had looked at her, a struggling single mother making only a few dollars per day, and believed she could do something extraordinary.

She left Dallas and got to work.

She started studying the current Queen of Sales presentation.

She memorized it until she could deliver it in her sleep.

But memorization wasn't enough.

She needed a system.

So she started writing weekly sales goals and soap on her bathroom mirror.

Every night before bed, she'd update the numbers in the corner.

Shows completed.

Money earned.

Years later, she wrote about what those days looked like.