Over the weekend I was checking my social media. I’ve recently found a new fascination with the dressed-up-chicks videos. A bunch of baby chickens dressed in colorful outfits and silly antics really crack me up. There’s not enough laughter these days; the world has become an overly serious place, and baby chicks wearing snorkels and shark costumes can be just the ticket to a smile.
As I was enjoying my chick flick (grin), I got a messenger ping from a long-lost mentor of mine: Mr. Java (not his real name but I’m all about protecting the (not so) innocent in my musings). He asked, “Is this the Mia I know?” My smile got even bigger.
“This is the only Mia you know worth knowing! Ha!”
“It is you!” he replied.
Somehow, we lost our connection over a decade ago when he went in another direction. He left IT sales and consulting to start his own real estate consulting and investment firm but was now going back into technology sales leadership after a much-needed hiatus.
We exchanged parenting stories and were surprised to learn that we both have children living in Colorado. I agreed we should make plans to meet up at some point during a mutually planned visit (to see our kids, of course). He and his S.O. were enjoying their newly found empty nest and I gave him pointers on how to keep the adult children from trying to move back in permanently.
People from our past have a way of coming back to remind us who we were, who we are, and how far we’ve come to becoming who we are supposed to be.
Mr. Java once approached me about working on his sales team. I managed a team of technology consultants and often worked with him to pull together solutions for customers and prospects. When he suggested that I manage a team of sales consultants while personally shepherding a number of key accounts, I almost threw up on my desk. I cried. I had no desire to sell anything. I learned, in the conversation, that a recent merger put me in the position of being layered under another manager or taking control of my own destiny and working with him in sales.
I loathed the new manager, but the idea of being in sales made me physically ill. Mr. Java sat across the room from me, holding a box of tissues, as I rattled on about the “ick” of sales. He laughed at me and said “but the money…”
He went on to say that I had been selling for years, helping him and his twelve guys close business, speaking the language of CTOs and CIOs while assuring them that “we got this” as the deals were inked. He also reminded me that when the software publisher had customers in trouble, I was the person they called to pull the account out of crisis.
He dried my tears and closed the deal. “Mia, this is your chance to buy the kids a house, put them through college, and finish your own degree. I don’t care where you work or when you work, and you will keep your own daily schedule. I believe in you. Let’s put some money in your life.”
For the next seven years, I enjoyed being one of the guys, a woman with twelve “brothers” scattered from Texas to Montreal. Sales events were memorable, and I may have aided in the start of at least two fights, both in the defense of my honor, with one epic monologue about the virtues of being trailer trasher over Euro trash.
My team members handed me Rolex watches, wallets, and cell phones as they physically rose to my defense after I politely declined to engage with foreigners who apparently had a thing for short women with sharp tongues. I was, well, thoroughly entertained. Best day of golf I’ve ever had!
Weekly staff meeting agendas including a standing line item called “Mia’s Weekend” in which I gave updates on my dating life, the kids, and home-building status.
During one long weekend sales event, Mr. Java handed me his wallet. “I can’t read the bill let alone calculate the tip.”
“Oh my God, are you drunk?” My brow furled. This became a standing assignment whenever we were all together. Wives would suggest “give your wallet to Mia” during outings. I was on speed dial in most of their ladies’ phones. “Yep, he’s fine. Uh-huh, wallet’s in my purse. Nope, no casinos for him. Got it.”
It wasn’t all fun and games. Long nights, long journeys across Texas to close deals and collect checks were ad hoc adventures for me and the kids who often got to travel with me as a perk. I didn’t miss school events, sports, drop-off or pick-ups unless I was out of town, which was always scheduled around me. My guys truly loved and respected me; there was not a crude rogue in the bunch.
I finished my degree sitting in class while sending out million-dollar contracts and making phone calls between classes and during my commute home to make it in time to get the children from school. Those were some of the most exhausting—but freeing—days of my career, and I did just what was predicted: bought two homes, put the kids through private school, funded both college accounts, and paid for my undergrad and grad degrees, in cash with no debt.
I learned so much during that time: negotiations, contract development, conflict management, and of course relationship management, which serves me to this day. Customers who I haven’t seen in years still reach out and ask for my advice, wish me well, and suggest we meet up when they come to town.
Although it started out in a most undesirable way, I made it into something that changed my life forever. I will always be grateful for the long, and sometimes, twisted journey of my life and the places my career has taken me.
When I finished my degree and decided to start moving in a new direction to pursue a new career, it was hard to say goodbye to the guys who carried me, literally, on their backs when I had blisters on my feet from standing on them during conferences, and the one guy who believed something in me that I didn’t see in myself.
However, it was when we reconnected online, that something new caught my eye as I read his final message to me. “Look at you. Accomplishing all of your educational pursuits while also getting that “S” in front of your VP..I’m so proud of you.” His own degrees, listed in his bio, Psychology and coaching specialty. Once again, he was mentoring me from afar, pushing me toward a discipline I had never considered for myself. Funny that I unwittingly pursued a similar path without realizing that we shared that educational decision. However, this time, he didn’t have to sell me on it.