I made the bittersweet decision to give up the comfort of being close to my family and the harmony with my branch office in Harrisburg to interview for a national position within Xerox.  To move onto the national stage of a big corporation would be a dream-come-true for a person with my working-class background. It was seriously important to land this job.

Shortly, I was in front of a panel of experts at the Xerox International Training Center in Leesburg, Virginia.  If you have ever been in a panel interview, you know how nerve-wracking it can be with five or six highly regarded professionals staring back at you from the other side of the table.  For that moment, they have your future in their hands. Meanwhile, my hands were shaking as I took my seat in front of them, and I held them tightly on my lap hoping they wouldn’t betray the calm demeanor I was trying to portray. The room was suddenly quiet as I looked at each set of eyes peering back at me. My heart pounded and I felt my neck and cheeks flame red. So much for looking calm.

Thankfully, I had read the “Dress for Success” book and no longer dressed for men. The national director, to whom the position ultimately reported, could now focus on my performance and qualifications. They grilled me every way imaginable and intensely probed my appropriateness as a role model for the marketing representatives of Xerox. I felt inadequate as I answered their questions, and I began to doubt my qualifications. But I spoke from the heart and from my rock-solid track record in the Harrisburg branch office. I had worked hard and smart in my current role and had earned my way to this interview. Evidently, they found my responses acceptable and chose me for the job.

That’s when I met Jo, who also got the job. They liked each of us and could not decide between us, so they split the position into two roles and hired us both. We were co-trainers in the same classroom, and our professional styles could not have been more different. Jo’s style was open and approachable, and my style was structured and no-nonsense.  While I was still in college, Dr. Armstrong called me out for my unprofessional work. Because she was a trusted advisor, professor, and role-model, Dr. Armstrong’s correction left me an indelible mandate to be exact and crisp. Now, years later, I had just met my polar opposite.

Jo was more than approachable. She was also witty with a razor-sharp mind.  She knew her stuff and came highly recommended from the leaders in the Oklahoma regional offices of Xerox.  Attractive, petite, and confident, she was well-connected at the training facility and had been endorsed by the former instructor whose job we filled.  I ended up loving her as a dear and trusted friend. But that’s not how it started. Jo and I had to get used to each other.

The new job consisted of demanding days and nights.  Long days in the classroom were spent initially observing the departing instructor effortlessly doing her job.   She seemed so smooth, so sure of herself while a big lump in my throat reminded me I had a very long way to go to be as good as she was.  Now that I had achieved this level, I didn’t want to blow it. I just could not fail, and fear of my own failure drove me to the product lab each night to pour through technical manuals.  

Weekends were not spent relaxing.  More lab time and preparations for taking over the classroom from the former instructor left little time for fun and socializing.  My aunt and uncle who raised me stopped by the training center one evening on their way home from a vacation, and I couldn’t see them because my work schedule was so full.  I now know that nothing should have kept me from being with them. Family time is precious and the job would have waited the hour or two I spent with them. I didn’t understand balance back then.  I permitted the urgent to crowd out the important. They drove home the next day, and I was sad for days to come.

Jo spent hours in the lab as well, but she always seemed on top of things.  At times, she glanced at me with a look that suggested she had big doubts about me and my structured style. I felt as if I had to win her over at a time when I also doubted myself. Perhaps her heart started to warm towards me as she observed my awkwardness in being so far out of my comfort zone and the resultant struggle to overcome my fears.  After several months, we really began to gel as we saw the synergy our distinct approaches created for our students. In the end, our polar-opposite styles were a good thing. Jo and I were the perfect pair to keep everyone from getting bored in the long, six-week course.

When Jo walked to the front of the class, folks relaxed a bit, let down their hair, and prepared to have a little fun while learning. Her natural confidence facilitated a light touch and a breath-of-fresh-air approach. Our students loved her.

To my surprise, they loved me, too. When I took the helm in front of the room, folks sat up straight in their chairs and braced for a no-nonsense lesson. I required  order, structure, and precision and held myself and my students to standards of perfection. I doubt that I was any fun at all, being so structured and punctilious, but both of us consistently received excellent reviews from our students. After about six months in the new job, I finally started to believe I was making a difference. I began to relax just a tad, even allowing my hair out of its confining bun every now and then.

(Incidentally and worth a mention:  Over the years, my business style of dressing moved to the right of middle—not the strict Malloy way but certainly not my dressing-for-men way of the past. I’d call it stylish, yet polished.  I never could forget that the message can get lost in the messenger and a certain decorum is essential.)

During that time at Leesburg, I heeded the advice of financial advisors who strongly recommended home ownership.  After all, it is part of the great American dream, and it was gratifying to know hard-earned dollars were going into an investment for the future. Jo and I both made our first home purchases in the same condominium complex. She was in another building, but we rode to work and did things together on the weekends. Our friendship became solid and meaningful.

On the day RuthAnn announced she was coming to observe both of us in the classroom, I felt frozen in place. RuthAnn was the top technical advisor for marketing representatives within the Xerox Office Products Division. Her role extended to Leesburg’s classrooms and what and how we were teaching.  RuthAnn was businesslike, technically astute, and candid. It was the candid part that almost did me in with concerns about her assessment of my knowledge. I was beginning to feel much more grounded in my technical capability, but it was no match for her expert level of technical competence. Teaching customers as I had done in the branch office required a high level of technical proficiency, but teaching those who would go on to teach customers required a whole lot more knowledge.  I felt I had not yet measured up.

I had reason to be concerned because I was about to receive one of the worst scoldings since the one from Bob. Only this time, the consequences were even greater. Now I could lose my little one-bedroom condo with the white carpeting and emerald green plants.

Join me next time for the continuation of the Xerox Leesburg experience where  RuthAnn’s admonition changes everything, where I create a nationwide program worthy of a national award and a trip on the corporate jet, and as I pass the baton of my classroom role to a new instructor when I move up to the management level. I will share my shame in how I handled passing that baton in the hope you will never do it the way I did.