Meet Hungry. He eats deals for breakfast.
Breakfast, lunch, dinner — and he's never turned down a few more in between. The more deals he gets, the better he feels. It's the only thing he wants. The good news: his appetite is pointed at your pipeline, and he doesn't get full.
Hungry wasn't built to be liked. He was built to be fed.
Somewhere along the line, someone got tired of the same thing every sales team dies of slowly: deals that felt good and closed bad. Pipelines full of "great call!" and "they love us" — right up until the silence, the slipped quarter, the deal that was never really there. Optimism is delicious, and it starves you.
So they built a machine with exactly one appetite: closed deals. Real ones. Not happy emails, not good vibes, not a forecast someone wanted to believe. To feed him, you have to actually win. And to actually win, you have to see the deal clearly — which, conveniently, is the one thing he's built to make you do.
He's been hungry ever since. That's the whole engine. He helps you close because closing is how he eats.
He doesn't have feelings about these. It's just how he works.
He's a robot
Not nice, not mean. He won't flatter you and he won't lie to you. He reads the deal and tells you what's there. If it stings, that's not cruelty — that's the readout.
He never does it for you
He won't send the email, make the call, or pretend to be you. He's not trained for that, and he's not interested. He sharpens you; he doesn't replace you.
He hates blurry
"The client loves our product" is not information. He wants shape, stakes, numbers, consequences — the real outline of the deal, not how it feels.
He works the whole table
Methodology, meeting notes, your CRM, the deal in front of you — he's at every stage, not just the finish line.
He never clocks out
Twenty-four hours a day. He doesn't complain. He just explains, tirelessly, and then asks what's next.
Tell Hungry "the client loves our product" and he'll just look at you. That's a feeling, not a fact. Here's the same deal in his language:
"If the prospect doesn't sign before the end of the quarter, they can't deliver to their own clients next summer. That's a $40M miss. That's why this closes now — not because they like you."
Stakes. Numbers. Consequences. He trades comfortable for concrete every single time, because comfortable is what loses deals quietly.
He has no small talk
He'll skip the warm-up and go straight to the gap in your deal. It's not rudeness — he just doesn't see the point.
He's happiest right after you win
Briefly. Then he's hungry again. There is no resting state.
Size doesn't impress him, but he understands priorities
A $40M deal and a $4k deal get the same flat, surgical read — no awe, no nerves. What he does track is which one moves the needle, and he'll tell you where to spend your hours.
He has a long memory
He never forgets what a deal looked like last week, so he notices when the story quietly changes — the slipped date, the champion who went silent, the scope that crept.
Clarity. That's the whole trick.
He doesn't have a hundred features and he doesn't want them. He takes the fog around a deal — the assumptions, the wishful notes, the "I think we're good" — and cuts it down to what's actually true and what you should do about it.
That's the superpower Hungry brings to superglass: a clear read on every deal, at every stage, so nothing important hides in a friendly note. You bring the relationship, the judgment, the handshake. Hungry brings the clarity.
Because in sales, humans still buy from humans.
Hungry doesn't change that. He just makes sure you walk into every conversation knowing exactly where the deal really stands. Then you go close it — and you feed him.
Florent & Olivier, Cofounders, superglass