I’m preparing my presentation to Venrock, the Rockefeller Fund at Rockefeller Center in New York. The place where they light the big tree. I'd only seen this place on television. But here I am - with what I believe is a really good pitch presentation; about to walk into a conference room for what would become one of the most defining moments of my life.

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I’m seated at one end of a VERY long conference table. A 31-year-old farm kid with a bachelor’s degree from Mississippi. Feeling very out of sorts, sweating so heavily beneath my suit jacket that I dared not remove it. Alone, at one end of an incredibly long conference table. I'd already been rejected by most of Nashville's investment community. I'd heard it all: you're too young, you've never done this before, you can't compete in this market against these large players. This felt like my last chance to turn my entrepreneurial dream into a reality.

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At the other end of the table are an older guy and a group of young "Harvard MBAs" (that was my impression) in expensive suits. The room felt massive.

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Ten minutes into my presentation, Mr. (Ted) McCourtney, a Senior Partner at the fund, asked most of his junior people to leave the room. After telling me to close my computer, he tells me: ”I'm already an investor in the largest competitor in your space. Why should I bet on you?”

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Now I've gone from being stressed to terrified. But I also thought, what do I have to lose? He's just destroyed my presentation. He sent all his analysts out of the room. He’s not going to invest. This is his way of giving me a soft goodbye.

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So I was just very honest.

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I told him my story of growing up on a rural farm in the deep south and then my experience of joining the army to fund college tuition. Finally, I exhaled and was brutally honest... ”Mr. McCourtney, I've mortgaged my home and my family farm to start this business. If I fail, I’ll lose everything. And, if I fail, you’ll lose a fraction of 1% of your holdings. This cannot fail. I"m all in.”

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He listened quietly and then asked a few more questions. I knew the meeting was coming to an end. And just as I thought "this is the end", he called one of his assistants back into the room, and he said, “We're going to back Michael.”

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He committed several million dollars to my project. Theraphysics - my entrepreneurial dream - was about to be born.

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In that moment, I realized that being authentic meant so much more to him than I knew. I felt incredibly small. But in that moment of humility, I thought he's a big shot in New York. I'll never see him again. I'm just going to tell him honestly where I am.

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The fact that I had more to lose than him and was honest about it got me the investment, not how great my presentation was.

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We were selling the company 4 or 5 years later. It had been a success, and Ted was still on our board. I asked him: ”Ted, why did you bet on someone who had never started a company with a firm your size?”

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He said: “Michael, in my work in New York, I rarely get to see such naive honesty out of a young person trying to start a company. I knew, given your history, your story, and everything you had on the line, you were a good bet. So I bet on you.”

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My pitch deck, my business plan, and financial projections were all important elements of the day, but didn’t secure the investment. It was my authentic story, my resolve, and my unwavering belief and passion behind it all.

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That’s the power of authenticity.

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People who bet on you, whether investors, cofounders, team members, or customers, will do so because they authentically believe in you. But they cannot believe in you if you do not authentically believe in yourself.

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