January 16, 2009
I have approximately thirteen minutes to write a post today, and I'm just not sure that I can be funny in that little window of time.
I had a one on one meeting with the President of a local bank today. We sat in some really cushy chairs in the sun room of his office. No seriously, his office has its very own sun room. My house barely even has its own bathroom.
What a showoff.
So there we were, using each other's first names as often as we possibly could--because that's the way successful schmoozers do it--when his personal assistant walked in.
I stood up from my seat to shake Heather's hand (and use her name while I did it) when I noticed a funny look in her eye. She wasn't looking at my nose, so I knew it wasn't a booger seeking freedom that caught her attention. Obviously, that girl just had a problem.
When Heather left, I talked with the President a little bit more--asked about his kids and such. After all, that's what you've gotta do when you're looking for a five year donation that's large enough to fund your own salary.
He introduced me to a few other bankers--all three times my age, income, and importance level. And I'll tell you what, they were giving me that same damn look.
"They're all doing drugs," I told myself. "It's got to be cocaine."
Then, finally, when I had schmoozed, and begged, and asked if I might be able to make a presentation to the entire Board of Directors, it hit me like a cinder block from the sky.
I was still wearing my winter pom-pom hat. And I had been the entire time.
Pumps, a power suit, and a lime green pom pom hat...now that's a recipe for success.