Do you ever just find yourself falling short? I try so hard sometime to keep up the appearance of being cool, collected, in-the-know or at least showered. It seems that the majority of these efforts go in the gutter the second I have some sort of client involvement.
I’d like to say becoming unintentionally disheveled is limited to a couple of mishaps during my travels last week, but that would be lying. My history of client-related oopses is long and storied.
The spills began with my first Range meeting. Imagine, if you can, me as a fledgling account specialist. I’m young, new, unsure, wobbly and totally not cool. I’m nervous, I have no idea what to wear, the client is huge, and also, did I mention I’m nervous? So I try not to muck it up. I keep my FIRST EVER MEETING outfit simple, hoping that my black skirt and heels will keep the white-hot glares of imagined criticism to a minimum. And once I’m dressed, I think I look Professional, and people who look Professional don’t do things like busting ass down a flight of stairs, tumbling forward in a skirt or crashing spectacularly into the entryway of an office-park deli. Which, of course, is exactly what happened.
This would be the first of many such blunders, always trying to put my best foot forward, inevitably walking in with mustard on my shirt.
Flash forward a few years later. It’s a meeting with the same client, but by now, I’m leading this one. I’ve met with the big wigs numerous times, presented information, knocked ‘em dead, etc. The very last time I was there our meeting was held in the official corporate “conference room”. The table, I kid you not, was and is the biggest I’ve seen to date. Easily 200 yards in length, solid marble. There was so much technology in that room it was absurd. Remotes to raise blinds, switches to turn on switches—I felt like I was in the Batcave. So there I am, presenting away to a bunch of people who are new to our side of the business, and needless to say, I need to make a strong impression. Slide 16 speaks to this, slide 17 speaks to that, slide 18 has “sharts”. That’s what I said, out loud to 20 people, 15 of whom did not know me. Meeting black out ensued.
Cursed is probably a little dramatic, so I’ll just say that I’m a little accident-prone. Which brings us to my recent meetings with two new clients.
I Traveled last week and met with some clients. One gentleman who I was introduced to informs me that he is from Denmark, to which I quip back, “Oh, you’re Dutch.”
Him: “No, I’m from Denmark, I’m Danish”
Me: “Oh – Right. I knew that”
Meal continues, conversations span the galaxy, approximately two hours pass. The check is brought to the table when said gentleman offers to help pay, saying – “Let’s go Dutch?”
Me: “Wow, you guys say that too, even though you are Dutch?”
Him: I’M NOT DUTCH – I’M DANISH
Me: Thinking….I’m never going to win Jeopardy or Trivial Pursuit or even be able to help my child in geography.
Finally, on the same trip, I had a few more meetings, all of which required a certain dress decorum. I wore new shoes for approximately 30 minutes before they had given me giant, painful, hellish blisters on my feet. We still had quite a bit of walking to do. Fortunately my friend/co-worker had some emergency band aids stashed in his backpack. Between meetings we escaped to a McDonalds for coffee and first aid. I get the band aids fashioned on – which, I might add, is an attractive thing to do in a restaurant full of casually clothed people when you’re dressed up and slapping adhesives on your feet. Band aids on and we go into the next meeting. Of course, the band aids have done nothing to alleviate the pain from walking on giant blisters. Walking into the meeting, I casually look down at my poor feet and realize that the band aids are now hanging out my shoes. And I’m walking through an office where the people are dressed better than I could even imagine dressing like on my best day and I have band aids flapping around like a pair of old, bloody pricetags. Pretending that I’m a still a class act (or maybe just invisible) I yank the band aids out and shove them in my purse.
And then I walk the rest of the way gritting my teeth, realizing that I really shouldn't be surprised. In an effort to make me feel less alone, I ask you this: what meeting malfunctions have you had?
