We're Gonna Be Friends Right?

Today I met my new sales team. I won’t say which company, but that’s not really important to the story. I basically just talk on the phone all day and as we say, “book the biz.” Well, no one really says that but me. And I say it to my mirror in the morning before I stuff a Pop-tart in my face and saunter off to work.

This whole week has been a week of training calls. Calls come in, I stammer a little bit, we work up a deal, and then they let me know when they’ll get back to me. And if I’m lucky they “hollah back” and I “book the biz.”

I’ve been doing well though. So well, in fact, that my upcoming manager has been raving about me to my new team, before I even get there. “You’re letting the new guy beat you?” and all that. Fantastic. I’m the kid in the class everyone hated. I’m that kid who raises his hand and says, “Um, miss? You forgot to assign homework.”

So today I’m moving from the kindergarten playroom to the big kids’ area. The training wheels are coming off. I get a desk and everything.

I sent an email to my manager asking where I should show up on Monday. Valid question right? He sends me an email back saying, “At your desk. I’ll have Bob show you where to go.” I am a zero. Of course my desk, where did I think he wanted me to report? “Yeah, how about you head on over to building eight, third floor conference room, and sit Indian style facing the corner until someone remembers you’re alive.”

Bob is my coach. Nice guy… I think, I can’t really read him. The guy has a permanent poker face. And he’s huge. He could crush my skill just by thinking about it. Needless to say I’m intimidated even now just knowing he’s out there somewhere, waiting.

He came in and I’m still on the phone, so he stood behind me. Now I’m nervous because I know he’s listening, but now he’s perched in perfect neck-snapping position. Then he sat down and stared through me. I finally stumbled to another non-close and he motioned for me to follow him to my desk.

I walked down the hall like a lap dog, slightly behind him. I’m a five foot nothing and he’s a six two beast-man who could very well have been Nitro on American Gladiators. I had to quicken my step to keep up with his lumbering stride, as I’m holding onto his out-turned pocket like a prison bitch.

Bob points to my desk. It’s kind of odd because it’s not an empty desk on the row, but it looks like it’s occupied with personal items and such strewn about. Then he says, “This was my desk. They’re making me move.” Apparently I’m displacing Bob the Skull Crusher to another row so that I can sit in this desk. The horror of the situation kept me from saying anything. But what would I have said? “Um yeah, I’ll probably put my snow globe here, where that trophy is… And I’ll probably pin a photo of my dog up here where there’s a picture of your wife…”

Then Bob paraded me around the cubes to the rest of my team. Remember, these are all people who know nothing about me other than that I’ve been making them look bad the past week. So they’re thrilled to meet me. Each one sarcastically acknowledged me, “Oh, you’re that Jeff? Yeah, heard a lot about you; had that big sale today… Greaaaaat.” And I nervously laughed, “Hehe, um yeah I got a little lucky. Nice to uh… finally meet you and everything. We’re gonna be friends right?”

My manager is cool though. He’s me in 20 years; an awkward nerd who sometimes has no idea what to say. Plus I have to like him, since he is the only one who seems to be fond of me on the new team.

But we’ll see how it all goes. It was really only the first week and I’ve been known to exaggerate. Or maybe I’ll just get promoted in a few months and won’t have to worry about it. I’ll ask him if the whole team should come in on Saturday.