The Stuff That Kills Careers and Keeps You a Slave to Minimum Production Numbers
5 Challenges That Hold Back Advisory Practices And How the Top 10% Handle Them
I see veteran advisors—guys pulling in $500K, $800K, even north of a million—getting tripped up by the exact same stuff that kills rookies. The problems don't disappear when you start hitting your numbers. They just wear different clothes.
The excruciating failure rate in this industry is so high - 90% of rookies fail within their first three year, this is a known fact and its almost most like we all just ignore this elephant in the room. So why do most new advisors fail, what separates the survivors from the casualties, and why this matters whether you're six months in or sixteen years deep. Because if you've been around long enough, you'll recognize these patterns. Might even realize you're still fighting some of these battles yourself.
Remember the smartest person in the room during your training program? chances are she/he didn’t make it. This is exactly what happened to a rookie -Michael, we met him a few years back, smart guy, came from corporate banking, had his Series 7 and 66 knocked out in three weeks. His manager painted this picture: "Work hard for two years, build your book, and you'll be making $200K by year three."
Mike believed it. Hell, so did everyone else, every other advisor in the program looked up to Mike, he was going to be the start performer.
Mike washed out in 18 months. Left the business entirely, now sells software to banks.
Here's the thing though—it wasn't because Mike was lazy or stupid. The guy was grinding 60-hour weeks, had a great attitude, even closed some decent accounts. Mike failed because nobody told him about the landmines that blow up 90% of new advisors. And honestly? Those same landmines are still sitting there waiting for those of us who survived.
The Stuff That Kills Careers And Keeps Many in a State of Struggle
The Identity Crisis
For the rookies: "Wait, am I supposed to be an advisor or a salesperson?"
Every new advisor hits this wall. You thought you were going to be giving sage financial counsel, helping families plan their futures. Instead, you're dialing for dollars and getting hung up on by strangers. Your compliance officer is breathing down your neck about sales practices while your manager is asking why your activity numbers are down.
You feel like a fraud wearing a suit, pitching investments to people who barely trust you enough to shake your hand.
For the veterans: "Am I running an advisory practice or am I just a really expensive salesperson with a fancy office?"
Plot twist—this doesn't go away. I know advisors with $100 million books who still struggle with this. They've got the corner office, the assistant, the fancy brochures, but they're still constantly selling. Every client review turns into a pitch for more assets. Every referral conversation feels transactional.
They wanted to be trusted advisors. Instead, they feel like asset gatherers with better marketing materials.
The identity thing never really resolves. It just changes shape as you grow.
Desperation Mode
For rookies: "I'll take any client with a pulse and a checkbook."
Three months in, no deals closed, rent due next week. That 78-year-old widow with $40K in CDs starts looking like a whale. You know she's not your ideal client. You know the account won't be profitable after you factor in your time. But the production report doesn't lie—you need something on the board.
So you take her on, promise the world, and spend the next six months learning why minimum account sizes exist.
For veterans: "I can't say no to money, even when I should."
Here's what nobody talks about: this gets worse as you get bigger, not better. You've got overhead now. Team salaries, office leases, technology costs. When your top client's pain-in-the-ass nephew wants you to manage his 401(k) rollover, you say yes even though you stopped taking accounts under $500K two years ago.
Revenue desperation at $50K in production looks different than revenue desperation at $500K, but it's the same drug. You're still making decisions based on fear instead of strategy.
The Activity Trap
For rookies: "If I just do more stuff, something will work."
Monday: blast 100 LinkedIn connection requests. Tuesday: cold call the white pages. Wednesday: show up to every networking event in town. Thursday: try that seminar marketing thing everyone's talking about. Friday: panic because nothing's working.
No system, no measurement, no consistency. Just frantic motion that feels productive but builds nothing.
For veterans: "I should probably have a more systematic approach to growth by now."
Be honest—how many of you are still winging it when it comes to business development? You've got investment processes documented six ways from Sunday, but you ask for referrals whenever you remember to. You post on LinkedIn when you feel like it. You go to networking events when your calendar isn't too crazy.
You survived the rookie years, but you're still operating like one when it comes to growing your practice.
Flying Solo
For rookies: "I should be able to figure this out myself."
Pride kills more advisory careers than bear markets. New advisors don't want to look weak or stupid, so they reinvent every wheel. They make the same mistakes everyone else made, learn the same lessons the hard way, waste months or years on stuff that's been figured out already.
Nobody wants to be the guy asking basic questions in the team meeting.
For veterans: "I've built a successful practice, I should know how to handle this."
The isolation trap gets sneakier as you get more successful. You hit a growth plateau or struggle with team management, but you don't want to admit you need help. You're the expert now, right? Clients pay you for advice—you should have your own stuff figured out.
I've watched advisors spend two years struggling with problems that could be solved in two months, all because they were too proud to ask someone who'd been there before.
Short-Term Thinking
For rookies: "I need to close something this month or I'm dead."
When you're worried about hitting minimum production requirements, it's hard to think about five-year business strategies. Everything becomes about next month's numbers. You chase quick wins that usually end up costing you more than they're worth.
For veterans: "Let me just patch this problem and move on."
Successful advisors do this too, just with bigger problems. Client service issues? Hire another assistant instead of fixing the process. Hitting capacity constraints? Work longer hours instead of restructuring your service model. Growth stalling? Throw more marketing spend at it instead of examining your positioning.
Short-term fixes are like drugs—they work for a while, but the problems always come back stronger.
What the Survivors Do Differently
After being around this business long enough and watching hundreds of advisors either make it or flame out, I've noticed some patterns in the ones who thrive. And here's the interesting part—these patterns matter whether you're in month six or year sixteen.