You find yourself in one of those windowless, airless conference rooms in the bowels of midtown manhattan. You’ve walked by this building 1,000 times, but you’ve never gone in. Now, you know why.
***
It is some ungodly hour, like 7:30am. Someone told you that you HAD to go to this particular networking event. (You make a mental note to delete them from your contacts when you get home.)
***
This room is too hot in the summer, but it’s also too hot in the winter. So, you quietly sweat, waiting for the festivities to begin.
***
There is a woman seated at your table who looks a little bit like Faye Dunaway in Mommie Dearest. Only not as pleasant.
***
It is SILENT in this room. There is exactly one bottle of dented Poland Spring water sitting on a naked table–that everyone is too polite to take.
***
Someone pops a quarter into Joan Crawford’s back and she suddenly springs to life and asks me, “So, WHAT DO YOU DO???” The question echoes through the room. DO…….DOOOOOOO……
***
Now, anyone who knows me, knows that my pitches are 15 seconds long. They are exactly 4 sentences.
***
I start my pitch. I have completed the first two sentences, when I see mechanical Joan Crawford’s arm, start to very slowly raise. Other people at the table notice this. Does someone need to put another quarter in the slot??
***
“Now, you listen. I’ve worked at Con Edison for 38 years and I have six more months to go before I retire…..” I’m not sure what else she said but the lesson went on for a good long while. All I could focus on was her HAND. Her hand was in the FULL STOP position, in front of my face. She’s heard 2 sentences of my pitch and that’s 2 sentences too many for Her taste. Thank you very much.
***
I need to be careful. She could have a wire hanger in her purse.
***
I look at her and smile. “I’m so sorry. I’m not trying to sell you anything here. Not at all. You asked me what I do, and I was simply answering your question.”
***
She softens a bit.
***
I can see where this networking event is going and it’s NO WHERE GOOD. There is a break, (from what content, I don’t remember.) I get up slowly, so as not to attract any attention. I grab that Poland Spring bottle on the way out the door. Hey, I’ve EARNED it. I am walking to the elevator when I hear clickity clack, clickity clack behind me. I turn to see one of the young women who was at my table, she is kind of running to catch up to me. The clickety clack of her perfect high heels–(Manolo Blahniks, if I had to guess,) getting louder as she approaches.
***
“Hi, I overheard your conversation. You do the 15 MINUTE pitch right?” (Lots of people accidentally say this and it’s totally fine, I don’t take offence, because I KNOW what they mean.) I say, “It’s actually 15 Seconds, but yes, that is what I do.” We both laugh; delighted to be escaping that event. She looks back at the room. “Um, I don’t want to work for Con Edison for 38 years. Can you help me with a pitch so that I can start my own business?”
***
“Yes, I absolutely can.” I tell her.
***
When one hand goes UP, another hand chases you down with a fancy little strut. 🙂