That’s what I told myself this morning when I didn’t get a client I wanted. It was the only logical explanation as to why I received their email late the previous evening informing me of their “hard decision” to “go in another direction.”
Since no other reason was offered, I permitted my mind to wander the vast desert of doubt — a place I like to call Doubt Desert — to mull over all the valid reasons why my horrible personality must be blamed.
This was not a cold pitch. This meeting was so warm I could fry an egg on it. I had a personal introduction. Okay, so the person who introduced me doesn’t hate my horrible personality. But to be fair, he is a lawyer (haha).
I’m not new at this, nor am I so old I carve words on stone tablets. I’m also an innovative thinker.
I ruminate some more
During the meeting, I brought up all my oodles of experience. I must admit that my experience was not exactly what they were looking for. But all the podcasts to which I subscribe tell me not to let lack of experience stop me. After all, I can speak English and write strings of words down that mean things. Perhaps I falsely deduced that this was good positioning.
Right.
I brought my relevant samples with many of the words in strings that mean things. He oohed and ahhhed as he skimmed them. Asked me if he could keep them.
“Absolutely, I brought them for you.” Because that’s the kind of gal I am. I’m a giver.
But I know my value. I have an hourly rate. Since this was a rush job with some specific needs, I added on another ten. I stated my rate simply. Confidently. He wrote it down with nary a blink.
So far, so good.
Then the Big Guy walked in looking like he hadn’t slept in a week. My nice guy walked out. Shut the door behind him.
Ummm.
“What do you think about this project” He asked in a growl that reminded me of Lou Grant.
“I think it sounds great.” I smiled while the Mary Tyler Moore show opening played in my head.
I do that when I get nervous. I have an entire library of silly scenes, montages, music videos and other sundries that my also-me uses to steal my focus. It’s a wonder I haven’t stepped out in front of a bus.
Mr. Grant stared at me like I just served him one grilled cheese with a cockroach on the side.
“Great? What does that mean? You mean great for the consumers? Great for the investors? What exactly do you mean?”
“UhhhhhImeant that consumers and investors alike will benefit from this project as it saves time and money and is poised to be a major player in the e-commerce marketplace.”
I clamped my lips tight together. Didn’t blink, breathe, twirl my hair, check my phone…
I wish I could tell you the above strategy was some Art of War thing. But another thing also-me does is talk a lot so sometimes I have to give her a cup of juice and make her sit in the corner. Talking only to fill in silence is probably not a quality Mr. Grant looks for in a writer. Or human being.
Mr. Grant rubbed under his glasses so hard, I thought he was gouging out his own eyeballs.
“Why do you think people will buy this product?”
I told him why. I told him from the perspective of a mom who needs more hours in her day and as a consumer who now wonders why no one has thought of something so brilliant before.
He looked so tired.
He stood. I stood. We shook hands and he said, “we’ll be in touch,” and walked out and back into the boardroom at the other end of the hall. A room from where, I realized, a lot of yelling was coming.
Product development is high stakes. In that boardroom, sat a couple of guys who had put their personal lives and any wealth on hold hoping for something big. When I say big, I’m not talking Shark Tank big, but billions big.
I left feeling buoyant, high on the entrepreneurial vibrations. I found myself really hoping that my couple thousand words would be the ones that go into a proposal resulting in a shift in the way we think about time and commerce. I’m not surprised a couple of VERY smart post-grads could come up with such an idea. Probably over beers. I bet they still have the cocktail napkin scribbled with the first notes.
So, y’all I’m bummed. I wish I had the Mary Tyler Moore spunk that kept Mr. Grant from firing her. But I’m glad they found a writer who was a better fit for their vision.
And that’s what I put in my thank you note.