I remember stepping foot into his office. I’ll call him Jay.
He was the first client who yelled at me. Later, much, much later, he warmed up, becoming
cordial, but, that first meeting, when I was twenty-three, went something like
this:
“Hello, I’m from the newspaper.”
“Yeah, so?”
I wore a dress I had sewn on my mom’s Singer; Kelly green
with small white dots over a white, puffy sleeved blouse. In hindsight, I
looked like Snow White’s sister.
“Thought I’d come by to talk to you about advertising.”
At first, he said nothing. Then Jay’s eyes sort of bulged
out of his head and he turned red. “What in heaven’s name do you know about
advertising? I have owned this dealership for fifty years and you think you can
waltz in here to tell me what to do?”
“No sir,” I answered, worried the man might have a heart
attack in front of me. My knees shook. Good thing I had opted for the pattern
with the full skirt, I thought.
“Well, you’re going to tell me how to advertise? Do
you know anything about advertising?” His voice shook the entire office. I
think they heard him at the parts counter.
“I admit I’m new to advertising, but I have some ideas that
could help sell more cars.”
“You have ideas, huh? You think you can help me sell more
cars?” The yelling turned into diabolical laughter that shook his portly belly
and scrunched his gray eyebrows together. At this point, I wanted to run back
to the shelter of the office to tell my manager I had failed. Maybe, I’d take
that low-paying job writing obits, after all. Jay sneered a twisted smile, but it calmed me
down. “Get out of here. Go get your ideas and come back next week. I’m busy.”
“Can I leave you a copy of the newspaper?”
“Yes, now get out,” he shrieked, pointing to the exit.
The following week, I came back with a mock-up of a full-page
ad and he signed a contract. Jay became a loyal newspaper advertiser for many
years. I had triggered something. Either guilt for his nasty behavior or pity
for the newbie. A mystery I have yet to solve.
Once I had my first check, I bought a navy-blue suit, assuming
falsely, it would help me command a bit more respect. Later, a closet full of
suits, a briefcase and business-like pumps didn't help either. Sadly, many future clients also
screamed about prices, tear-sheets, proofs, typos etc. and those pencil skirted suits didn’t hide my
quivering knees.
Either way, Jay, and
all the others, inspired me to figure out why things like this happen. Six
years later, I went to grad school for a Master’s degree in Human Behavior. As
if learning psychology would stop clients from shouting. 😊
I hate shouting. Don’t you?
Anyway, what do you think? Did Jay like my ideas? My dress? My
determination? Did I upset his ego?
More than likely, he simply wanted ads in the local newspaper.
Right?
