In anticipation of quaint neighborhoods, a skyline that impresses but doesn’t overwhelm, and craggy beaches along the New England coast, I moved to Boston for my career.   Now that I was settled into my charming condo, I wanted to enjoy the city. But first, I had to establish success in my new role as sales manager for Xerox. Many hurdles lay ahead, and one of the biggest was the opening of the Xerox store I was appointed to manage. Xerox established stores coast-to-coast in a novel concept of offering a broad array of business products for smaller businesses.

After months of stocking shelves, opening boxes, and setting up equipment, the store was finally scheduled to open its doors to the public.  Due to its tony locale in the Chestnut Hill area of Boston, there was a big buildup towards opening day. Stores had already opened in the downtown area and the suburbs of Boston. They were up and running, and now it was finally my team’s and my turn.

Despite the hard work and publicity, our grand opening was a dud.  What a big letdown we all felt on opening morning when only a handful of people wandered in.  As we all stood around anticipating the crowd to build later that afternoon, it became apparent our opening had fizzled.  Similar to the sinking feeling of being all dressed up for your own birthday party and no one showing up, the lackluster turnout held a rejection tone that did not portend well for the future.  Gil, my district manager, was disappointed and surprised. He had such high hopes that the location would attract customers who would appreciate our unique model of one-stop business shopping.

For our sakes, he remained upbeat and encouraging.  “Things will pick up once the word gets out,” he said.   I deeply felt the stinging disappointment because everyone had worked so hard but tried to hide the bitter lump in my throat late in the day as Gill shook our hands and left for the airport.  That night at home, I allowed my worries to keep me awake for hours. Finally, I fell into an exhausted sleep. It had been a long day and a long couple of months preparing for this day. When I awoke the next morning, I had regained my sense of plowing through, no matter what.

Despite the low attendance at our opening event, my team and I continued to arrive early every day to train and learn.  With each session, we gained more knowledge and confidence. But it was a process to master the range of products from copiers to computers to word processors to fax machines and beyond.  Gil’s boss, the executive sales manager, was not a patient man. He expected big things out of this expensive store in the well-heeled community of Chestnut Hill. The store had barley opened, and I was feeling the pressure for sales.

During the first month, few people entered our doors.  The few that did asked us to make Xerox copies for them.  They misunderstood our purpose and thought we were a copy shop.  In short order, we put together an advertising campaign to more clearly tell our story.  We held an open house and hired telemarketers to help bring the traffic in. The second, third, and fourth months saw a slight pickup in customer traffic but sales were few and far between.

I was losing weight, tied up in worry, and concerned that I would be fired.  The big rule in successful retailing is location, location, location. We just didn’t have the traffic a retail establishment must have to exist and thrive.  And, sadly, my team and I were too inexperienced to know how to get customers in the door. I felt the weight of the world on my shoulders. Xerox, a huge multi-national company, had entrusted me with this significant asset.  I could not bear the thought of failing.

I held out belief in our hard-working, earnest team. I believed if we continued to do all the right things, eventually we would prevail.  Stay the course, I told myself and my team. Keep doing what we are doing. Build a relationship with each customer who walks in, give the best customer service anywhere, go the extra mile, practice professional selling skills, ask the right questions, know the benefits of the products for the customer’s specific application, be respectful, follow up, continue the training—never stop learning. But still the numbers were not there.  

Meanwhile, my colleagues in the other two Xerox Stores were selling products like hot cakes.

During this time of intense learning and worry, I discovered how to catch a little break from it all.  When I wasn’t working Saturdays at the store, I drove up the coast with my beach chair and towel, parked the car, and staked out a spot right in the gentle surf along the shoreline of the Atlantic Ocean. The small waves that lapped against my feet felt cool and refreshing.  I needed this relaxing, solitary haven from the pressure and worry. When would our ship come in, I asked myself over and over as I sat there in the cool New England breezes with the bluest blue of skies overhead. All the beauty I had imagined Boston to possess was realized in these short jaunts to the beach where my anxieties were soothed and my hope restored.   

All the while, I continued to encourage my young, inexperienced team.  Except for Gil, I had few to encourage me. Despite how much time had gone by with few sales, he remained patient and calm.  I could sense he was getting pressure from above, but he held it from me. He was such an elegant man.

Meanwhile, my management colleagues in the other two stores continued to sell well.  They were both experienced in retail sales, and I couldn’t help but envy their knowledge.  The downtown store had continual foot traffic in and out all day which provided a robust list of prospects.  The suburban store was led by a pro who knew how to maximize each customer interaction. Everyone in management was pleased with them.  As of yet, I had no fans.

After the sixth month, I received a phone call from my executive manager’s assistant.  She informed me in a cool, firm tone that Gil’s boss was coming to see me. In response to my worried question, she responded that, no, he wasn’t going to the other stores, only to mine.   He intended to spend all day reviewing what I was doing to get sales. Next, she gave me an intimidating list of the facts, figures, and complex charts he expected me to prepare for the meeting.  She spoke in a way that put me on notice he meant business. His superiors were likely putting pressure on him as to why this expensive store in affluent Chestnut Hill had not taken off. He didn’t have to tell me I was in trouble—his visit to only my store told me everything.  

Even though I stayed in the encouraging mode with my team, I felt the gripping tension of unrelenting fear in my neck and shoulders.  I just knew I was about to be fired and the impending doom was almost more than I could handle. If only I could be magically transported to another time and place, I thought woefully. Of course, as my Mom often showed me, there was no way to go but through.

Shortly before my executive manager’s visit to Boston, I knew just how far my spirit had sunk when I returned from the airport one night after a fast trip back home to Pennsylvania for a family commitment.  I felt lonely and defeated in the back of the hard-worn cab as the taxi driver drove me home. The streets were deserted and my thoughts were grim. Here I was in a city where I knew very few people, a city laid out in colonial times and unfriendly to my poor navigational skills, and the city where I likely had met my doom career wise. The streets were dark, the buildings—historically significant and preserved—suddenly looked old and decrepit, and I was about as low as I had ever been in my life.  

Who was I to think I could be some great sales manager without having spent any time in sales. Why did I hire such inexperienced people even though they had the qualities I believed were needed for success.  My second guessing went out of control as I came face-to-face with my shame of failing and potentially losing my job.

Once again, I was in a career situation where I fought failure, often thought the worst, and second-guessed my abilities. This was becoming an unattractive pattern in my short tenure in the demanding corporate world.  I knew it had to change or I had to find a new career path. The only problem was that I was excited by the potential of corporate America and didn’t see any better match for my dreams.

Join me next month for the conclusion of the Xerox Boston experience when the big boss comes to town to see only me.  There is no clearer indication that a career is in trouble than when the division’s top executive makes a trip for just one employee.  Hear the wisdom this leader provided—likely against any of the esteemed protocols Xerox established for its leaders. I conclude the Boston experience with its enormous pressure and ultimate triumph.  The kind of triumph that comes around only occasionally in life. The triumph that made the world all right again.