When in doubt

The Friday Frame (of mind)

Her name’s Betty, but everyone calls her “Boo.”  

She sounds wise. Texas lilt to her voice. Slightly amused. It’s 2004, and she’s calling me, wondering why my cover letter and resume are sitting on her desk. I’ve applied to be a receptionist at the firm where she’s an Office Manager. 

Do I know how to be a receptionist? 

No, Boo, I do not. Not a freaking clue. 

Add to that, I’ve got a shiny new four-year degree from UW Madison, and so basically, I look like an over-credentialed, under-experienced kid with his head up his ass who’s blanketed any business in and around San Francisco with his resume. 

But I have a strategy. 

Me: You’re a real estate firm, right?

Boo: Yes, darling.

Bingo. 

How many real estate firms have I sent my letters to?

Three hundred.

How many called back?

Boo. That’s how many.

But it didn’t matter. We hit it off. We talked. We joked. What do a Texas gal and a Wisconsin boy talk about? How they both ended up in California. 

She finally told me, “Look, we’re looking for a receptionist. I don’t know if this will work, but I like you. Come on in.”

So, the next day, I drove up to the office. I met Boo. I met one of the principals at the firm. The first thing he said to me:

“Why are you here? You want to be my receptionist? Really?”

He was not convinced. 

“I’m smart,” I said. “I’ll work super-hard. I’ll bring you coffee. I’ll sweep the floor. Anything you want if you just let me in the door.”

He laughed me off. Told me that he would think about it.

A week later, I got the job. 

Okay. So, those of you who read last week’s newsletter are going to point out how I traded one poorly paid job for another. 

“Nice, Sean,” you’re gonna say. “You’re the Prince of Poverty Wages, the Duke of Dumb-ass, the Maharaja of Minimum Wage.” 

You’re not entirely wrong. I drove an hour and a half both ways to work that job. And no, there was no company gas card.

But man, did I learn. About real estate. About myself. 

The company was Thompson Dorfman Partners, and the two developers who ran the company, Will and Bruce, had run Trammell Crow’s West Coast operation. They had just recently broken off to start their own firm. These were not small-time developers. These were Big Guns, and I had no idea what that meant when I first started.

But I did know that when I blanked the entire west coast in my crap cover letter, I was excited about being a property developer. I knew that there were people out there who dreamed entire neighborhoods into existence and, in the process, reimagined the world. I knew that if I could get close to one of them and make myself useful, I could learn something. 

They gave me more and more responsibilities. Even in the face of self-doubt!

 “Don’t worry, you’ll figure it out,” they said. 

And when self-doubt threatened to derail me, they straightened me out with a few quick words. I remember nearly a year in when they began to give me projects to work on. I was surrounded by people who knew what they were doing. Smart folks. Folk with MBA’s. I told Will and Bruce, “Look, there’s an MBA program at Berkeley. I could apply there. It’s expensive. I’m not sure I’ll get in, but would that help?” 

They both looked at each other and then back at me. 

Will rolled his eyes.

“Seems like a heck of a lot of money to spend just to get your old job back when you’re done,” Bruce said. 

I was floored. It was like getting cuffed in the back of the head by a kind but impatient uncle.

Will said: “You’re already in the door, Sean. Now you’ve just got to learn on the job.”

They were right. Twelve months earlier, I’d thrown caution to the wind and set out for the Bay Area with my wife. I landed a job in their real estate firm. I was stubborn and sometimes fearless. But here I was, my courage wavering, and I’d thought I could prop it up with another degree. They knew better. And said so. I’ll be forever grateful for their candor. In fact, I sometimes think in this day and age, we’re too wishy-washy with our advice. We want to be good listeners. Accommodating. Accepting. But sometimes, folks, particularly young folks, don’t want to be set adrift in a sea of options; rather, they want to anchor themselves in the hard rock of someone else’s experience. 

So here’s what I know because other wiser people told me so.

Find a mentor. Make yourself useful. Learn on the job. And when in doubt, stay the course.