With a strategic mindset and hands-on leadership, I bring over 15 years of expertise in scaling B2B enterprise SaaS sales and revenue through targeted growth strategies, marketing automation, and demand-generation initiatives. My background spans VP of Marketing, VP of Sales, Director of Growth, and Sales Account Executive, equipping me with a comprehensive view of sales and marketing functions essential for scaling revenue and optimizing technology stacks.

I am passionate about transforming revenue processes by maximizing technology like HubSpot—from CRM setup to advanced automation workflows—and utilizing AI-driven tools to streamline operations and enhance lead generation. I’ve successfully led AI and integration sales, building customized solutions that connect data across platforms, improve productivity, and drive high-impact results for clients.

In my role as VP of Growth at SyncSmart.io, a SaaS product focused on productized integrations, I crafted a go-to-market strategy and sales framework that accelerated ARR to $1.2M in less than a year. My approach combines strategic growth planning with a relentless focus on efficiency, and leading go-to-market Sales teams.

🔑 Core Competencies: HubSpot CRM & Marketing Automation, AI Sales, Data Integration Solutions, Revenue Operations, Account-Based Marketing, Product-Led Growth, Account Management, Revenue Planning, Growth Strategies, and Technical Sales Enablement.

Industries of Interest: SaaS, MarTech, Artificial Intelligence, DevOps, and Franchise/VC.

📈 Let’s Connect if you’re seeking a versatile growth leader to elevate revenue, refine tech stacks, and scale B2B SaaS performance through strategic innovation, AI integration, and hands-on sales leadership.

Sean Royer

I help law enforcement professionals lead with clarity and build meaningful careers beyond the badge.

Hi. I'm Shaun. As a police sergeant and training supervisor, I’ve spent years developing officers, teaching communication, refining decision-making, and guiding people through high-stakes judgment. Those same skills fuel my work today as a coach, instructor, and advisor.

Through Beyond the Badge and Lead by Coaching, I provide practical tools for officers to:
→ lead through influence
→ communicate with purpose
→ strengthen their judgment
→ use their experience to build their next chapter

My work is built on service, clarity, and life-long learning — the same values that define the best leaders in policing.

If you’re looking to grow, lead, or explore what comes next, let’s connect. I offer a free, 5-day Clarity Course for law enforcement professionals ready to do something with their experience and skills. You can join thousands of others and find purpose and profit beyond the badge: www.leadbycoaching.com

Shaun Nestor

One morning on patrol, before I’d even had my first cup of coffee, I went from a sudden infant death… to a natural death… to nearly having to shoot an aggressive dog… to a minor car crash.

The crash had no injuries. Moderate damage.

And yet, the driver was completely unhinged.

To her, this crash was catastrophic. The worst thing that had ever happened.

To me, it barely registered — not because I didn’t care, but because of what I’d already seen that morning.

Because of my perception.

Our perception as law enforcement professionals is shaped by years of exposure to things most people will never experience. What feels manageable to us can feel world-ending to someone else.

That gap matters — especially when we’re trying to lead, teach, or communicate.

Police Sergeant | Trainer | Founder of Beyond the Badge | Creator of Lead by Coaching

I once told a supervisor that people pay for coaching and training outside law enforcement.

He looked genuinely confused.

“I don’t even know what I’d teach.”

Five minutes later, he was dissecting oral board mistakes with surgical precision.

He didn’t lack expertise.
He lacked distance from it.

If it feels obvious to you, it’s probably valuable to someone else.

That’s the trap.

Years inside a profession flatten perspective.
Everything starts to feel “basic.”
Everyone seems like they should already know this.

They don’t.

Familiar isn’t the same as unimportant.
Often, it’s the opposite.

A common misconception I hear is:

“The private sector wouldn’t understand what we do.”

They don’t need to.

They don’t need war stories.
They need clarity under pressure.
They need leaders who can decide without perfect information.
They need people who understand accountability.

Those are transferable — whether we’ve labeled them that way or not.

A few signs you’ve learned more than you realize:

• You can spot problems before others name them
• You spend more time explaining why than what
• You’re calmer in chaos than in routine
• You see second- and third-order effects instinctively
• You get frustrated watching mistakes you once made

That is experience talking.

A lot of people assume their growth came from the position they held.

But if you’re honest, the growth came from:
→ responsibility without certainty
→ decisions with real consequences
→ leading people on their worst days
→ being accountable when things went sideways

That wasn’t just a role.
That was a training ground.

And those lessons don’t disappear just because the uniform eventually comes off or the role changes.

They’re still yours to use — and to share.

Here’s something I didn’t fully appreciate early in my career:

Experience doesn’t automatically make you a better communicator.

On patrol, I learned how quickly perspective shifts when you’ve lived through enough trauma, chaos, and uncertainty. What rattles someone else might barely move the needle for you.

But leadership isn’t about how you feel — it’s about how others experience the moment.

Whether you’re supervising officers, mentoring someone new, or working with people outside law enforcement, your audience doesn’t share your reference points.

If you don’t slow down and translate what you know, your message misses — not because it’s wrong, but because it’s calibrated for the wrong perspective.

That’s a leadership skill most of us have to learn intentionally.

I was talking with an experienced police supervisor recently and explaining the coaching and consulting work I do outside of law enforcement.

He looked at me like I’d switched languages.

Then he said, almost apologetically,
“I don’t think I have any real expertise.”

That comment stuck with me.

Not because it was true.
But because it’s incredibly common.

I've noticed that experienced law enforcement professionals often feel strange talking about their expertise outside the job.

Not because they lack confidence.
Because the culture trains you to do, not to package what you know.

So when someone suggests teaching, coaching, or sharing insight beyond the badge, it can feel uncomfortable — even self-serving.

It’s not.

It’s just a skill most of us were never taught.

When many law enforcement professionals hear the word “coach,” they picture motivation, hype, or personality.

That’s not what real coaching looks like.

Good coaching is structured judgment.
Pattern recognition.
Helping someone think better under pressure.

In other words, skills this profession already understands deeply — we just don’t call them that.

I’ve had more than one experienced officer say something like this to me:

“I don’t have anything special to teach. I just figured it out as I went.”

That sentence tells me two things:

1. They learned the hard way
2. They’ve forgotten how hard that learning actually was

Most people don’t need your stories.
They need your framework and processes — the kind earned over time.

If this idea of sharing what you know feels uncomfortable, that’s normal.

You’ve spent a career being measured by:
→ competence
→ restraint
→ professionalism

Not visibility.
Not voice.
Not personal perspective.

Thinking about teaching or sharing doesn’t mean you want attention.
It usually means you care enough to pass something on.

Those are very different things.

Something I’ve noticed over time:

The more experience someone has, the harder it is for them to see it as expertise.

They remember when they didn’t know.
They remember learning it the hard way.
So it feels earned, not special.

But earned knowledge is exactly what others are looking for.

I’ve heard this more than once:

“I’m not trying to leave. I just want to use what I’ve learned in a way that still matters.”

That sentence doesn’t come from restlessness.
It comes from maturity.

Most people don’t need a dramatic change.
They need a wider outlet.

Every experienced officer knows there’s a huge difference between writing a report and writing a report that holds up.

You don’t learn that difference in the academy.
You learn it after getting hammered on the stand.
After a prosecutor calls you into their office.
After a case falls apart and you know exactly why.

At some point, you stop writing reports to “get it done” and start writing them to survive scrutiny.

Here’s the part most people miss.

If you can explain why certain phrases get you crushed, how to articulate behavior without conclusions, and what actually impresses prosecutors instead of annoying them…

You’re already sitting on a body of knowledge other officers need.

That knowledge can be shared freely.
It can be taught intentionally.
And yes, it can become a paid product that helps others avoid mistakes you had to learn the hard way.

That’s not leaving the job.
That’s service beyond the badge.

Here’s something a lot of experienced officers overlook.

If you can look at something and quietly think, “That’s going to be an issue later,”

You’ve already learned a lesson someone else hasn’t yet.

You didn’t read it in a book.
You learned it by being there.

That kind of learning tends to hide in plain sight.

If you’re unsure what your expertise is, don’t start with résumés or business ideas.

Start here:

What do people trust your opinion on without checking your rank?

That’s usually the clue.

Let me say this clearly, because it matters.

You don’t have to be ready to teach.
You don’t have to know what your “message” is yet.
You don’t have to be planning a transition.

For most experienced professionals, this starts much smaller.

It starts with noticing:
“I’ve learned things that others might benefit from.”

That’s not ambition.
That’s awareness.

And awareness is usually the first step toward a legacy that lasts longer than a title.

When people ask me, “What’s next?” they usually imagine a big move.

In reality, it often starts much smaller.

• Paying attention to what people ask you for advice about
• Noticing which conversations energize you instead of drain you
• Realizing you already teach informally, all the time
• Catching yourself saying, “I wish someone had told me this earlier”

Those are signals, not random thoughts.

Here’s where I usually start when someone says they don’t have expertise:

The oral board.

Most experienced law enforcement professionals could talk for 30, 60, or even 90 minutes about oral boards without notes.

The great candidates.
The disasters.
The ones who memorized buzzwords five minutes before walking in.
The ones you knew could run the department tomorrow.

That’s not “just experience.”

That’s teachable insight and people are hungry for that kind of information.

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Shaun Nestor

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