From Old Guard to Young Guns: Leading Sales Succession With Clarity and Standards

Today’s newsletter is my April column in the LBM Journal magazine.

The “Point God” was in Purgatory. Well, Atlanta, anyway. Chris Paul, the 12-time All Star point guard for the Los Angeles Clippers, was left by his team at Hartsfield–Jackson International Airport. His coaches and teammates had had enough.

In the middle of their East Coast road trip, Clippers’ president informed Paul his run with the team—and most likely his career—was ending there. At 11 pm. More than 2,000 miles from home. Effective immediately.

“This is no way to treat a legend!” was the consensus outside the team. Inside it, there was relief. Paul constantly questioned the team’s strategy, refused to speak with the coach, and berated teammates. But this isn’t about Chris Paul or basketball; this is about every LBM firm that has an aging sales rep who helped build the company. How you guide these legends into the fourth quarter of their careers is a leadership decision. Done well, it strengthens culture. Done poorly, it fractures teams and encourages POs to competitors.

It’s a relationship business. 
Sales managers often have deep relationships with these reps. Honoring those relationships— and these individuals facing the undefeated foe of Father Time—while continuing to serve customers better is not easy. But not impossible.

The root cause of the old guard’s pain is simple: They matter less. One day you’re the MVP. The next day you’re invisible. The response is predictable: grasping for control, bitterness, criticism.

But aging doesn’t give you a license to be mean. During a February sales workshop, a member of the old guard said, “These kids who wear AirPods all day long are idiots.” I said, “That’s not a very nice thing to say,” before noting the CEO seated behind him (age 54) was wearing AirPods. The veteran shrugged and slumped in his chair.

His sales expertise was an asset to the team. His contempt was a liability. When a sales culture normalizes dismissiveness and disdain for teammates, it destroys trust and lowers performance. It puts at risk the very thing we’re paid to do: Serve customers better.

It’s Not About You 
On a recent call with a west coast LBM dealer, a sales manager shared a win. A veteran rep had retired, and the manager brought a young gun to meet a builder who’d been a loyal customer for years. Once the handoff felt secure, the manager asked a question: Could we potentially supply you windows?

“Oh yeah,” the VP of Construction said. “I’ve brought that up for the last two years.” The previous rep never followed up. The conversation uncovered a $400,000 opportunity—closed three weeks later. The sales manager expects the account to more than double in 2026.

Artwork created by Dall-e, guided by Bradley Hartmann
Technical Foul
But here’s the gut punch: In September 2025, just months before being dumped in ATL, Harvard Business Review published an article titled “Every Team Needs a Super-Facilitator.” 

Guess who the primary example was? Chris Paul. Four times he joined new teams. Four times they posted their best record ever. They called it “The Chris Paul Effect.”

The best veterans don’t cling to the spotlight—they raise the standard for everyone around them. Paul knew this. For years, he mentored younger players, recognized their potential, and helped them improve. But in LA, he ditched his own playbook.

If you want to assist the old guard in retiring with dignity and without limiting growth, here are the three moves that matter most.

First, eliminate confusion about the role. Establish clear goals around revenue, margin, and new business. Document expectations for time in account management vs. intentional selling. Closing out a career with dignity does not mean eliminating expectations.

Second, expand your options. Move from commission to salary? Reduce territory? Allocate time to mentoring? Build a phased exit plan tied to customer handoff a year before you think you need it.

Third, enforce We > Me. Legendary NBA coach Phil Jackson said that good teams become great when teammates trust each other enough to “surrender the Me for the We.” Managers can’t “let it slide” with the old guard. Without clear standards of behavior, the culture devolves into gossip and passive aggression—and serving customers becomes secondary.

The best veterans understand this instinctively. At the age of 40, after 21 years in the NBA, the Clippers didn’t sign Chris Paul to be the motor powering them through the turbulent waters of the Western Conference. But they couldn’t allow him to become an anchor slowing the team’s momentum.

Your LBM firm isn’t a family. It’s a team. And the best players—regardless of age—are the ones who make everyone around them better. The veterans who finish strong remember that super-facilitators don’t just win games, they change franchises. 

Thanks for reading. 
I’ll be back next week.

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Bradley Hartmann & Co.
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Contact Bradley Hartmann:
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