Here I was in a lovely and charming city, and I was miserable and wracked with fears of losing my job. My sales numbers were among the lowest in the country, and my neck was on the line. To add to my self-inflicted pressure, the big boss of the division was coming to town to see only me. His assistant advised me of his requirements for the meeting which would consist of a full day of combing through every detail of my leadership plan for the Xerox Store in Chestnut Hill, an upscale area of Boston. For the next couple of weeks, my team and I pulled out all stops in preparing for the meeting with my executive manager.

He planned to fly in from the Connecticut headquarters and take over our conference room for the day. He wanted charts, figures, and more charts. We went above and beyond his request with not only the numbers but also made charts of our training schedules, demonstration techniques, questions we asked each customer to thoroughly understand their business needs, our plan for lead generation, our list of prospects we had actually talked with, and the analysis of where each prospect stood in the sales cycle. We wanted to prove ourselves worthy of a second chance. But I knew the odds were not in our favor. When he and Gil finally walked in the door, my team and I stood at attention in our crisp business attire complete with warm greetings and hearty handshakes.

We were now off to the conference room—first with my team for some pleasant exchanges and light questioning. Then for the bulk of the time with me for anything but light questioning. He grilled me every way conceivable on why the sales numbers were low. His take-no-prisoners style didn’t let up for lunch as we marched through first this set of numbers and the next one. I felt as if I was in the wringer of the old-fashioned washing machine on my grandfather Pappy’s porch, and my stomach felt more twisted and tight with each hour that passed. His every nuance and skeptical look convinced me he did not believe I was in the right job, and I kept waiting for the ax to fall. I truly believed before he walked out the door that evening, he would fire me.

Towards the end of our long meeting where I had presented facts, figures, charts, and a spell-binding array of sales initiatives, he leaned back in his chair and said, “Well, I can’t really find fault with what you’re doing.” As he clasped his hands behind his head, still leaning back in his chair, he looked at me long and hard. “What I don’t understand, though, is why you want this.” There was a quiet stillness in the room. Gil didn’t say a word as we both waited for what was coming next.

“Look at you,” were his next words. “Why, you could be a runway model. Why don’t you just go and be a model. It would be worlds easier than staying here and slugging through these next months of trying to get sales when it’s obviously not what you’re good at.”

Stone silence permeated the room. No one said a word. Gil didn’t know what to say, and I was speechless. All the work that went into proving my worth as a credible business leader was discounted and trivialized by that one comment. All I could think was that he didn’t think I was smart enough or strong enough or professional enough to earn success in my sales manager role. I was crushed.

Finally, I gained my composure and voice. “Because I don’t want to be a model,” I said resolutely and more calmly than I could have imagined. “I know I’m doing the right things here. I know I can be successful here,” I said.

Leaning back in his chair with his arms still folded behind his head, he peered at me. He was looking for authenticity in my eyes. He was looking for conviction and a reason to give me another chance.

After a long, silent pause, he said, “Well, okay. We’ll give it some more time. But, I must say, we need results. And we need them soon,” he said in a steady and unequivocal voice.

“I understand,” I said as my heart pounded in my chest.

With that, they closed their briefcases and walked to the front of the store. After farewells to my team and me, they were out the door and headed for the airport.

That night, I couldn’t calm down from the emotional and mental mountain I had climbed that day. I felt depleted of energy and enthusiasm, yet I felt even more resolved that we needed to press forward. I had wanted to win his respect as a credible business woman, but I didn’t know how to reconcile my goals with his perception of me.

With a lack of clarity about the future, I took a deep breath and full advantage of the reprieve he had given. I resolved to charge ahead, and there was no time to waste.

In the days to come, I searched my head and heart for anything we could change, add, or delete from our strategy and mode of operation. From some of his input during the meeting, I made a few tweaks in the game plan but essentially remained committed to our way of learning, customer interaction, hard work, and committed attitude of pushing through.

Then one day a couple of months down the road and as if our dues had finally been paid, things began to look up. Without realizing it, my team and I had changed and grown into our roles. We had polished and honed our knowledge and skills. Our confidence levels were remarkably higher than when we first began. Our approach to anyone coming into the store was professional, efficient, and compelling. It wasn’t long before we landed a huge sale.

We were overjoyed when the cash register rang out the good news. And then another one and then more sales. With each success and the jingle of the cash register, we smiled. We couldn’t slow down to celebrate, but our hearts were soaring. First one month of decent sales, then a second month of better sales, and a third and fourth month of excellent sales. Before we knew it, we were within reach of achieving our sales projections for the year. We had come from rock bottom.

Finally, that long, hard year was over. We knew we had done well and felt certain we had closed ranks with the other two Boston stores with a respectable year-ending performance. That’s when I went to Leesburg for a national meeting of all the Xerox Store sales managers. It was time for the annual sales revenues to be announced.

About 40 of my leader peers and I assembled in a large meeting room awaiting the arrival of the big boss, the executive manager who saw me as a fashion model more than a sales manager. With the final numbers now calculated, it was his job to do the big reveal of announcing the top sales managers in the country.

He walked in and went around the table courteously shaking hands with each sales manager assembled. After a few opening remarks, he began reading the names of the top ten national leaders for the year. As each name was called, I felt admiration for them. I also felt relieved and grateful. We were not in the top five he had just read, but we concluded with a decent year.

After the sixth name was read for top sales managers in the country, our executive leader paused, looked around the room, and asked the group to name who they thought held the seventh top-leader slot. We all just looked at each other not knowing for sure where he was going with his question. There was a stillness in the room and a little confusion as to why the seventh slot deserved this fanfare.

That’s when he walked briskly towards my area of the room and stopped right in front of me. As he turned, he grabbed my hand, shook it vigorously, and announced my name as the seventh-highest-ranking sales manager in the country for the year. There was emotion in his voice and mist in his eyes as he congratulated me in front of my peers. He then went on to say, “And she’s the number one sales manager from her district in the Boston area.”

Tears stung my eyes as I felt the satisfying feeling of triumph in all its sweetness. All those months of worry, stress, and self-doubting and now this. Through God’s grace, I didn’t give up during those bleak months when the isolation and loneliness were at their worst. Quite often, we give up just as success is about to embrace us in all its splendid validation.
My executive manager may have spoken out of turn with his “model” comment, but he was genuinely overjoyed by my success. The emotionally intelligent moment he created in front of my peers will last forever in my bank of cherished memories.

The lesson of staying the course and not giving up has helped me immeasurably throughout a long career. Staying the course when things feel right is not a stubborn willfulness but a grounded resolve. Knowing that difference is part of a winning strategy for life.

I returned to Boston renewed and ready to face another year of sales leadership. The work didn’t slow, but at least now the team was in the groove-swing of success. We knew our roles and performed them well. I relaxed a bit and explored the historic city. I still got lost almost every time I ventured out but tried not to let it be discouraging. There was so much beauty and richness to take in. And the colorful seasonal sights from my condo window became even more vivid now that the dark cloud had rolled away.

Before the year ended, it was time for another career move. I was given the opportunity to stay right where I was as the sales manager of the Xerox Store in Chestnut Hill or I could move to the city that had captured my fascination years before during my basic training with the company. Those shiny glass buildings of Dallas and the opportunity to grow in a new role pulled me in a southwestern direction, and soon I was off to the Dallas headquarters of the Office Products Division in a staff marketing role. I didn’t know then but something else was pulling me to Dallas. Join me next time as I move into the assignment that eventually wrapped up a decade with Xerox and to the city where I finally met my handsome prince.