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  • Your Follow-Up Game is WEAK!

Your Follow-Up Game is WEAK!

Why most follow-ups get ignored—and how to make yours impossible to forget

Chris Whitten
Chris Whitten

Jan 13, 2026

•

10 min read

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Most follow-ups sound like this:

"Hey, just following up on my last email. Did you get a chance to look at it?"

"Circling back on this. Let me know if you're interested."

"Bumping this to the top of your inbox."

And even when the words are more polished, the energy underneath is the same:

You didn't respond. Why don't you like me?

That's what it feels like. Even if that's not what you're saying.

Here's the truth: they didn't respond because they forgot.

Not because they don't like you. Not because your work isn't good. Not because they're ignoring you.

They forgot.

Do you ever forget things?

Of course you do. You get 200 emails a day. You have twelve projects open. You see something, think "I'll respond to that later," and then it disappears into the void.

They're doing the same thing.

Your follow-up is your second chance. Maybe your third. Maybe your fifth.

But here's the problem: most people waste it.

They ask if you got the first email. They apologize for "bothering" you. They remind you of what they already said.

That's not a follow-up. That's a plea for validation.

And it gets ignored.

Chris Voss, the FBI hostage negotiator, says the goal of negotiation isn't to get what you want. It's to make the other person feel understood.

When someone feels understood, they open up. They engage. They respond.

When they don't, they shut down.

Your follow-up is a negotiation. Not for money or a deal. For attention.

And most follow-ups fail because they're focused on you.

"I sent you an email."

"I'm checking in."

"I wanted to see if you're interested."

Me. Me. Me.

The person reading it doesn't care about you yet. They care about themselves. Their projects. Their problems. Their goals.

If your follow-up doesn't connect to that, it's noise.

Will Guidara, the restaurateur behind Eleven Madison Park, built his reputation on what he calls "unreasonable hospitality."

Not just good service. Unreasonable service.

The kind that makes people stop and say, "Wait, you didn't have to do that."

One story: A couple at his restaurant mentioned they'd never had a New York hot dog. So Guidara sent a server out to get one from a street vendor, plated it on fine china, and served it mid-meal.

That's not about the hot dog. It's about making someone feel seen. Making them feel like you were paying attention. Making them feel like you care.

Your follow-up should do the same thing.

Not by sending hot dogs. But by showing you were paying attention.

Value isn't objective. It's perception.

Two people can read the same email and walk away with completely different reactions. One deletes it. One responds immediately.

The difference isn't the email. It's what matters to them.

Your audience isn't a monolith. They're individuals with unique goals. And those goals determine what registers as valuable.

Most follow-ups are generic because they assume value is universal.

"Just wanted to check in."

"Following up to see if you had any questions."

"Circling back."

These don't register as valuable to anyone. They're filler. They're noise.

If you want your follow-up to cut through, it needs to be specific to them.

Not to "creative directors."

Not to "producers."

To this person. This project. This moment.

Here's what most people do:

They send a first email. It gets ignored.

They wait a week. They send a second email asking if the person got the first one.

It gets ignored again.

They wait another week. They send a third email apologizing for "bothering" them.

Still nothing.

Then they give up and tell themselves, "I guess they're not interested."

But here's what actually happened: the person never saw the first email. Or they saw it but didn't have time to respond. Or they saw it, meant to respond, and forgot.

And every follow-up you sent reminded them of the thing they forgot. Which made them feel guilty. Which made them avoid it even more.

You didn't lose because your work wasn't good. You lost because your follow-ups made them feel bad.

Chris Voss calls this "tactical empathy."

It's not about being nice. It's about understanding what the other person is feeling and using that understanding to guide your next move.

When someone doesn't respond to your first email, they're not sitting there thinking, "I'm going to ignore this person."

They're thinking, "I'll respond to that later."

And then later never comes.

Your follow-up needs to acknowledge that. Not explicitly. But energetically.

Don't ask if they got your first email. That makes them feel guilty.

Don't apologize for following up. That makes you seem weak.

Instead, bring new value. Make the follow-up stand alone.

Here's what that looks like:

First email:

"Hey [Name], I saw you just wrapped the campaign with [Brand X]. That mountain location work was incredible—how did you manage the lighting at that altitude? I specialize in outdoor lifestyle content and would love to chat about how I could support future projects. Here's my calendar: [link]."

Follow-up (one week later):

"Hey [Name], I just read this article about trends in adventure marketing and thought you'd find it useful: [link]. No ask, just thought it was relevant to what you're working on. Also, still would love 15 minutes if you're open to it. Here's my calendar: [link]."

See the difference?

The first email showed you were paying attention. The follow-up gave them something new. Something useful. Something they can use whether they hire you or not.

You're not asking if they got your first email. You're not reminding them they didn't respond.

You're showing up again with value.

Will Guidara talks about the difference between good service and great service.

Good service is doing what's expected. Great service is doing what's unexpected.

Good follow-ups remind people of what you already said. Great follow-ups bring something new.

Most people think persistence is about saying the same thing over and over until someone finally responds.

That's not persistence. That's pestering.

Real persistence is showing up with new value every time. Making each follow-up worth opening. Making each one stand alone.

Here's another example:

First email:

"Hey [Name], congrats on the new role at [Company]. I saw you're building out a new creative team. I specialize in brand storytelling and would love to chat about how I could support what you're building. Here's my calendar: [link]."

Follow-up (one week later):

"Hey [Name], I just saw [Company] launched the new campaign. That visual direction is killer—did you work with an in-house team or bring in freelancers for that? Would still love to connect if you have 15 minutes. Here's my calendar: [link]."

Again, you're not asking if they got your first email. You're commenting on something new. Something specific. Something that shows you're still paying attention.

Chris Voss says the key to negotiation is making the other person feel like they're in control.

Not by giving up control. But by making them feel like the decision is theirs.

Your follow-up should do the same thing.

Don't say, "Let me know if you're interested."

Don't say, "Hope to hear from you soon."

Those put the burden on them. They have to decide. They have to respond. They have to remember.

Instead, make it easy. Make it specific. Make it theirs.

"Here's my calendar: [link]."

"Happy to chat next Tuesday or Thursday if either works."

"Let me know if this is useful—no pressure either way."

You're not begging. You're offering. And offering feels different than asking.

Most people think follow-ups are about reminding someone you exist.

They're not.

They're about making someone glad you exist.

Every follow-up is a chance to show:

You're paying attention.

You're thinking about them, not just yourself.

You're bringing value, not just asking for it.

You're persistent, but not annoying.

You're confident, but not arrogant.

Here's the framework:

Follow-up #1 (one week after first email):

Bring new value. Share an article, a resource, a connection. Comment on something new they're working on. Ask a different question.

Follow-up #2 (one week later):

Reference something else specific. A new project. A post they made. A move they announced. Keep showing you're paying attention.

Follow-up #3 (one week later):

Acknowledge the lack of response without making them feel guilty. "I know you're slammed. If this isn't a priority right now, no worries. Just wanted to drop one more useful thing your way: [resource]."

After that:

Move on. Not because they don't like you. But because you've shown them who you are. If they need you, they'll reach out. If they don't, you didn't waste months chasing someone who wasn't ready.

Will Guidara says hospitality is about making people feel seen.

Your follow-ups should do the same thing.

Not by begging for attention. But by showing them you see them. You understand what they're working on. You care about their goals, not just your own.

That's what makes a follow-up impossible to ignore.

Stop asking if they got your first email.

Stop apologizing for following up.

Stop reminding them they didn't respond.

Start showing up with new value every time.

Start making each follow-up worth opening.

Start making them feel like you're paying attention.

Because here's the truth: they didn't ignore you because they don't like you.

They forgot.

And your follow-up is your chance to be unforgettable.

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If this hit, share it with someone who needs to hear it.

See you next week.

— Chris Whitten

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Copyright 2026 Chris Whitten


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