by Dom Price
Karina and Ben were a breeze to deal with. They knew the game and how to play it, and whilst it wasn’t discussed, Dave was proud to be their role model. Their drive, panache and desire to improve were infectious and Dave was confident about their success at the promotion meeting. Even better, their success indirectly confirmed Dave’s excellent ability as a coach, mentor and guide, and he could ‘prove’ that his techniques reared brilliant people.
“Loose connection maybe, but I reckon I can pitch that one OK” thought Dave to himself. The final meeting was with Kipto. Dave certainly didn’t feel racist, but he really did struggle to empathise in any way with Kipto, who was originally from Zimbabwe. He’d not wasted much time trying, however Dave was bamboozled as to why Kipto hadn’t made more effort to fit in. He’d even mentioned to Laura that “if you chose to change countries to ply your trade, you need to do everything in your power to acclimatise, and he doesn’t. He’s not come to one of the social events, doesn’t drink and doesn’t really say much. And he doesn’t seem particularly driven.”
Laura’s response had confused Dave further. “Sir, he is from a very different culture than the one you are used to, and therefore has very different views and perspectives on the world. Not everyone wants to get drunk and network every night of the week to improve their chances of a promotion by sucking up to the boss.”
“That is why she is a PA.”. All that touchy feely, culture stuff was something that poor performers hide behind. A smoke screen for not being good at your job.
The session with Kipto wasn’t as straight forward as his previous two, and Dave struggled to keep him on track. An early part of the conversation had led to Kipto explaining that he was struggling to settle into life in London, didn’t have many friends and missed his family.
“Kipto, we all have challenges at home, but a true worker and a dedicated professional leaves his baggage at the bottom of the lift and walks into the office as a clear headed consultant,” Dave commented, pointing jestfully over to the lift well. “So, let’s not get sidetracked and get back onto the matter at hand and talk about some of your clients? What is their feedback like?”
The work chat wasn’t much better. It was clear to Dave that Kipto excelled at being ordinary and was like a stealth bomber without any bombs. He’d flown well under the radar for a long time, but hadn’t done or achieved anything worth reporting. It wasn’t that his appraisal form was bad...it was just empty.
“I’ve got an idea for you Kitpo” as Dave rejoiced with his quick thinking.
“It’s Kipto Sir.”
“Whoever. I’ve got a client that has very strong corporate values and stuff, and they have a cultural diversity month. Maybe we could get you working out there and kill a few birds with one stone?”
“I am confused sir. Why are we killing birds? I thought we were consultants? In Africa, we don’t kill birds.”
“Haa! Very dry sense of humour we have hidden under the surface there. No, the killing birds is a euphemism. A saying. We don’t actually kill any birds. What I mean is that if we can get you out there for a few weeks, not only will it improve your perception around the office as you will be out working, but if they are having a cultural diversity month, you could well meet some of your own people and make some friends! How’s that for thinking eh?”
Dave was so happy with himself, he gave Kipto a jovial whack on the arm. On reflection, he didn’t mind this counselling stuff. He had two great performers and had just helped someone who was genuinely struggling, which made Dave feel very good about himself.
“Now off you go Kitpoo, go get in that lift and I want to see you leave that baggage at the bottom. Good lad.”
“But I have no bags Sir” Kipto replied, fighting the confusion with the thought that Dave was really not helping him at all.
“You crack me up. Now GO! Go earn me some money to pay for these coffees.”
A perplexed Kipto slipped nimbly out of his chair and strolled with the perfect ordinary pace to the door, neither rushing nor taking his time. Just walking. He knew where he was going, but after the chat with Dave, he was very lost.
Dave treated himself to an early mark from work as reward for his spot on counselling, and headed home via the library. This was far from a regular haunt for Dave. In fact, he’d not been in a library since his school days, and prided himself on being able to buy a new, clean book if he really wanted to read it. Free reading was for a different class to the aspiring businessmen, so he felt safe frequenting the local library. Minimal chance of bumping into any clients here.
Dave could almost smell the germs and grime that surely coated every single book in such a place, as he entered through the turnstile. Membership was free and easy, and even the lady at the desk seemed chirpy. Despite clearly being a few pounds overweight and benefiting from a few hours spent walking rather than sat on her arse reading, she did chortle at Dave’s quip that “It’s not really free is it. I pay considerable amounts in taxes for such services. Whilst the charge might not correlate to the service, I certainly don’t consider this to be free. If anything, I am in credit and the library owes me. Now, can you point me towards any books you have on dating and self help books of that nature...you know relationships and stuff?”
“She was laughing at the free and taxes comment wasn’t she?” pondered Dave as he passed 5 rows of students, the unemployed, the elderly and the literary obsessed. This definitely wasn’t his demographic, so he was planning a smash and grab.
Back with the portly woman at the counter, Dave was reminded that it was a maximum of 10 books at a time, so left “The 12 month plan of Dating” and “A-Z; Action to Zzzzz”. He needed something that would work in less than 12 months and something that preferably didn’t end in sleeping.
Turning the pages of the books, Dave was concerned at the tangents with which his life was changing. He was spending less time in his natural environment where he performed best, and was dedicating ridiculous amounts of time into a venture which he frankly didn’t understand and wasn’t convinced he even wanted to succeed in. At least success in the office was tangible. But all these emotions and feelings were very subjective. When he thought about his sales target he smiled. It had been set in stone for a year. It was a fact. It didn’t move. He knew what it was and knew how to get it. He could do what he loved the most. Plan, Execute and Measure. And the paradise that he enjoyed the most was that the measurement was a number. And it was the same number, however you looked at it. All of his colleagues, peer group and bosses knew the same thing, regardless of what they thought of Dave. He was at 109% of his target with a few weeks of the year left. He took solace in the facts that made his life and business a comfortable place to operate.
The whole dating and relationships though. Different game, confusing rules and bizarre outcomes. Dave was reviewing his initial three stage plan from the new horizons when the door bell rang. He wasn’t expecting anything. No CD’s had been ordered that would need to be signed for.
“Anne. I didn’t know we had plans. Come in. Are you OK?”
“Yeah my dearest brother, I am here with an olive branch in the form of wine, and an idea.”
“OK. Come up, I’ll get the glasses and you can explain why you are so dolled up on a school night, without your husband and my best mate in tow!”
“Pour me a full glass bro! I think I’ll need it tonight!”
Dave was concerned. This wasn’t normal behaviour for Anne. Something had to be afoot, and he really didn’t have the capacity for any more personal problems after the days counselling sessions.
“Dare I ask?”
“Yes, you dare. But I ask that you let me finish before you say ANYTHING and I mean ANYTHING. Just let me say what I need to say. Oh, and top me up!” Anne wasn’t a big drinker but had already taken a healthy swig of the red wine, such that she had a Shiraz moustache adorning her top lip. Dave said nothing as instructed, but giggled at the red wine smile from the glass which eloquently complim
ented the moustache.
“So Maria. She is a friend of mine from the gym and from yoga. We do coffee and stuff every now and then. Don’t look blank Dave. Maria from last night!”
Luckily Dave was stunned into silence. How on earth did she know about last night?
“Well after your little pow-wow session with Tony the other day, I got him to fill me in on a few of the, should we say, ‘high level details’ of your problem and your plan. I knew Maria was on some dating websites and it turned out she was on the same one as you, so I convinced her...I mean, suggested to her, that you might be a good match. Hence last night...”
“But...” attempted Dave, only to be foiled. His face was blotchy with embarrassment and was a similar hue to the red wine that he too was now guzzling.
“Shush. You promised you’d let me finish. Well you always taught me that if you try and venture and it fails, always have a plan B ready, so I have. You need to forget about last night’s attempts, and so as a joint apology and memory destroyer, I brought 2 bottles of wine” as Anne whisked a second bottle of red from her bag. “And don’t worry, you taught me well. It was on two-for-one!”
Dave grinned. He knew Tony would tell Anne. They were all too close from back in the day for him to not share this opportunity with her. However, he hadn’t expected that she’d try and set him up.
“But I was texting Tony with updates, and...”
“Yes, she was texting me too.”
“Oh Lord!”
“Anyway, I’ve not finished yet. The first bottle of wine is the olive branch and my way of saying sorry for interfering. The second bottle is the Plan B, and the reason I am dressed up and the reason you are going to go and change out of those tatty jogging bottoms and put something a bit snazzier on. Oh, and we need music. Music to get ready by. And lose those books. You shouldn’t be reading about business strategy with your predicament. Now music and change please?”
“Anne. What is Plan B?” requested Dave, moving the attention away from his relationship and dating self help books.
“We’re going Speed Dating. Tonight! Me, you and 24 single ladies. You always talk about economics, supply and demand, and statistics. Well you are in the market for a woman, and the women there tonight are in the market for a man. And statistically, you’ll have a higher chance of getting a woman than sitting here reading about outsourcing, performance management and efficiency in business. So get ready and get drinking. We’ll need it!”
Dave took Anne’s instructions on board, and necked the first glass of wine. He’d need every ounce of alcohol to survive this night.
***
Chapter Networking For Love
***
“But what if they are all ugly?”
“Bro, the reason we are doing this is your fascination with statistics. Assuming there is a representative cross section of women there, we have a good chance that there is a female equivalent of you there.”
The taxi drive to the pub gave Dave way too much time to think. Though Anne was excitedly chatting away at him on the back-seat, Dave was considering the consequences of such a night. Tactically, he was more than happy in a room of over 25 women as long as they were all in suits and as long as they’d be impressed by his corporate achievements. Dave thought through the ramifications of whether this was the only chat he had, and then settled on a fact. Business and women both have something in common, and Dave knew that he profited very well from managing excellent business relationships. Replace the word business with the word woman, and the equation is simple.
The Fox & Duck didn’t look remotely intimidating. In fact it looked much like every other venue in the neighbourhood; with its mock Tudor finish outside and selection of pool tables and flashing quiz machines inside.
Entering the door and passing the point of no return, Dave managed a whisper to Anne. “I hope she isn’t one of them, otherwise the odds are drastically reduced.”
The host, Margaret, was in many ways the ideal host for such an event, as she certainly wouldn’t be distracting the eye of any of the men. As she illustrated their names on a white sticker to be adorned just above the nipple, Dave couldn’t help but think that she’d make a perfect call centre manager. Her voice was welcoming and calming, her tone relaxing and her inflections gave you precise instructions that were clearer than a blue sky. Dave resisted the temptation to let her know that her calling in life was on the other side of a phone, where her lady beard could be permanently disguised behind her sweet voice.
“So let’s see what you can do in 3 minutes.” Margaret left Anne and Dave to mull over the information.
“I’m not convinced by this Anne. I’m really not sure what one can achieve in 3 minutes.”
“I won’t tell you what Tony can achieve in 3 minutes. Sometimes three times in three minutes.” The wink from Anne confirmed Dave’s worst suspicions.
“I don’t know what you mean, I don’t want to know what you mean and I think you are mean for even telling me what you’ve not just told me.”
“I’m merely suggesting that looks can be deceiving. Don’t discount tonight before you’ve even started.
The rules seemed simple, and like all networking events, Dave took his time to stake out the competition before making any moves. Anne went to get the drinks as Dave confidently, but slowly, strided around the perimeter of the event. 25 tables were laid out, all with a number from 1-25. He knew where he was starting and where he’d finish.
By the time Anne had arrived with a pint of Stella and a Sambuca chaser, Dave had already decided that his income, future potential earnings and career management, made him the number one pick for the night. At networking events, Dave was used to men dressed as he did, but just not as sharp. These guys had all kinds of carry up on, and the siblings enjoyed the first drink with a quick game of ripping into the opposition.
“Look at him. He looks like a cowboy crossed with the singer of Status Quo, crossed with a drag queen.”
Anne sniggered into her vodka, lime and lemonade, wondering what 3 minutes would be like with a man like that. “Looks like I’ll be returning home drunk and eternally grateful to have my husband” as they charged glasses.
“Time for another before we start Sis?”
“Yeah, why not. You aren’t nervous are you?”
“Bog off. Me nervous? This is merely 25 potential clients in a room with 24 people who perform the same job as me. The only difference is that I am dressed for the job and the best experienced for the job!’
“Experienced eh? Is that true...”
“OK, maybe not experienced, but my CV reads well!!” Dave laughed properly for the first time in a long time, and had a quick glance at his sister as he bought the next round of nerve killers. He really didn’t appreciate his sister enough. She was a caring and amazing woman, who’d just chosen a different path.
“Ding, Ding, Ding...”
The first four interactions were just that. Dave was not on fire. The setting of the pub and the one-on-one nature of the seating didn’t fit his style. Three minutes during a working day would fly by without a second notice, but three minutes of speed dating was feeling like an eternity. The good news was that none of these candidates, as Dave thought of them, had really hit the mark anyway, so it was good to get the practice in with the second tier girls. To be fair, it was probably their fault that he wasn’t on top of his game.
Dave’s virgin experience with Speed Dating got off to a shaky start. His silence as he sat down with Kandi, girl no.1, led her to open the conversation which did nothing for his confidence until he heard the question.
“So what do you make of speed dating then Dave?”
“Well that is an excellent question Kandi. It’s clearly a volume play with high margins given the obvious lack of overheads. You’ve got a well defined but finite target market, and the location and setting look like a win-win situation for both parties, also providing superb working capital. Naturally, I have concerns about the
low barriers to entry, especially with the low investment required to start, but you could manage against that risk using strong branding.”
“Oh. Fascinating. Erm, I suppose I could have phrased that question differently, but you’ve kind of answered it anyway. What I meant was why are you speed dating?”
Kandi reached down for a long and slow sip of her gin and tonic, as silence descended, not for the last time this evening.
Girl number 3 had seemed relatively alright, and Dave had defaulted into work mode. He’d asked her the staple complimentary question of “So how come you are speed dating?” as if to suggest that she was too attractive for such a forum, when in fact he was just copying the questions from Kandi.
With his consulting head on, Dave listened intently as she rattled off a series of past male failures. The man who’d not called, the man who called too much, the one she liked but then she didn’t, the one who was too nice, the one who was too mean. Using the back of his notes sheet, Dave started feverishly writing as he listened to her stories. She quickly morphed into detailing what she wanted from a man and why, and what she was like as a person.
“Excuse me Dave, but can I ask what you’re doing?” Number 3 was bemused as to why she was opening up to a man who responded by squiggling everything down on the back of a piece of card.
Dave span the card around and revealed it. Looking up, he took his first glimpse at her sticker.
“Wendy, this is what I call a SWOT analysis.” Dave pointed at the card, which had been split into four squares. He continued with his de-brief to Wendy. “We have Strengths, Weaknesses, Opportunities and Threats. Taking what you’ve just said, I’ve analysed the challenges that you’ve discussed and identified facets of your dating which fit into each of the categories. For example, you can see I have listed ‘confidence’ and ‘chatty’ in strengths. Now the unique feature about this model is that I have also listed ‘chatty’ as a weakness. What this means is that you could alienate some men by being too chatty. Do you get it?”