Endorsements

I’ve known Pete LeQuier for 30 years, and I still don’t know what planet he came from, but I thank the gods he landed here.

This is a guy who can hold court with a grizzled sound engineer about Neve console voltages, calm down a tour manager juggling four canceled flights and a headliner meltdown, then drop to the floor and talk Spongebob logic with an artist’s five-year-old and nail every single moment. That’s not charisma, that’s some kind of Jedi-level tactical empathy. 

People don’t just like Pete, they follow him. 

Instantly.

And on the business side? Pete’s not a player, he’s the cheat code. He’s fluent in accounting-speak, ops messes, legal landmines, and straight-up magic when it comes to moving ideas from chaos to clarity. He can read a balance sheet like a riff chart, break down deferred revenue without blinking, then walk into a boardroom where everyone’s out for blood and flip the damn script. He built the first real automotive retail sales platform, dropped two mobile apps before the industry knew what UX meant, and has personally talked founders into life-changing exits just by showing them a bigger game.

He doesn’t posture and he doesn’t sell, because he doesn’t need to.

He connects surgically, soulfully, and fast. The kind of connection that makes you want to build something better, think harder, stop bullshitting yourself, and move. He makes the room quieter, the vision clearer, and the work worth doing again.

And just when you're taking yourself too seriously, he drops a line so funny, so savage, so on-point, you're laughing your ass off and fixing your pitch at the same time.

Pete doesn’t join the team, he becomes the spine of the mission.

If he’s on your side, stop hoping for momentum. You are the momentum.

Jesse Capps

Pete didn’t walk in with a pitch deck. He walked in wearing jeans, a Red Sox cap, and that look you see on someone who already knows how this ends.

We brought him on for a nine-month contract to coach our Inside Sales team on a platform no one believed in. Not really. Marketplace was the underdog half-baked, half-trusted, barely breathing.

By the end of week one, Pete had introduced himself to all 170 reps. Not in a Slack message. Not at an all-hands. One by one. Every desk. Every handshake. Every name. He didn’t just say hello, he saw people and they felt it.

By week two, he was in the trenches. On live calls, in the deal flow, screen-sharing mid-close, coaching in real time. He didn’t “observe", He operated. Side-by-side with the team, taking notes like a litigator, asking questions that made even the most seasoned reps stop mid-sentence and rethink everything.

He didn’t know healthcare IT, but he learned it faster than anyone I’ve seen. Then he turned around and taught it back to our own platform team like he wrote the backend code himself.

He read our BI Hub like it was a map to buried treasure. Found revenue threads we didn’t even know we’d lost. Resurrected old leads, flipped cold accounts, rewired playbooks we’d already given up on. Every number, every behavior pattern, every whisper of potential he caught it, moved it, closed it.

But the magic? It wasn’t just the strategy, it was how he made people feel.

He remembered everything. A client’s hesitation from two quarters ago, a rep’s toddler’s name, the office cat of someone who started six days earlier. He didn’t do it to impress. 

It’s just how he’s wired.

By month four, Marketplace revenue was up 285%.

By month nine, it was the #1 platform in the division, driving $35 million in incremental revenue. From “nobody believes in this” to “how the hell did this happen?”

When his contract ended, nobody just moved on. The team felt it. One rep scheduled a recurring calendar event, “Pete’s Last Day” not as a joke, but as a marker. Because something had changed, and none of us wanted to forget it. When he’s gone?

You don’t just notice, you miss him.

Tasha Russell

Pete was engaged on a six-month post-acquisition contract, originally brought in to support integration efforts between AJ Networks and a newly acquired U.S. business.

He remained with us for five years.

During that period, he led negotiations resulting in more than three hundred million dollars in completed acquisitions across the United States. His work was not limited to advisory support. He was given full responsibility for managing founder relationships, resolving structural and cultural misalignment, and restoring forward momentum when progress had stalled.

He was not a translator. He was not an observer. He became the lead operator on the ground, trusted equally by AJ Networks and the American founders on the other side of the table. When tension was high, he lowered it. When decisions were unclear, he brought clarity. And when others waited for consensus, he moved forward and took ownership of the outcome.

His performance resulted in four additional contracts, followed by promotion to Senior Director of Strategy, the first non-Korean to hold this title in our company’s history. He earned this role not by asking for it, but by consistently delivering results that surpassed expectation, across business units, cultures, and continents.

However, the numbers alone do not explain why his presence was so widely respected.

At our headquarters in Seoul, we maintain a private kindergarten for employees' children. Visitors are not permitted. This is a place of safety, privacy, and tradition. Pete was invited once by a member of our team. That invitation was extended again, and then again. Eventually, the children began asking for him by name. Pete Samchon. Uncle Pete. In Korean culture, this name is not given lightly. It reflects not only familiarity, but genuine affection and a sense of belonging.

Internally, the team he built became known as Pete’s Ants. This was not a term created by marketing or by Pete himself. It was given by our CEO. In Korean tradition, the ant represents steady effort, humility, and collective strength. 

These were the qualities his leadership inspired.

Pete did not bring attention to himself. He brought alignment, discipline, and results. He was direct, fast, and decisive, but never careless. He connected with people, not through force, but through deep focus and an uncommon ability to listen fully.

He did not change our culture.

He became part of it.

SS