One of the great fruits of a life well-negotiated is being able to harvest a fair living doing whatever it is you love to do.
Saying or writing that is easier than actually doing it, especially now. All of us have had jobs we griped about. Today millions are stuck in jobs they tolerate but have zero passion for. I’ve weathered two of those in my career. In one instance I wasted two or three years by lazily staying too long. Maybe it was the hassle of looking for something new in a city I was lukewarm about living; or maybe it was because I lacked a good network of helpful connections. Now that I’m back in the USA instead of doing my sales coaching around the world — a job whose every moment I cherished more than life itself — like many I find myself working extra hard to protect the personal and professional life I’ve spent three decades trying to build.
Although I’ve lived in Denver a dozen years, I don’t know a lot of people. Most of my friends are airport employees, live in Europe, New Zealand or perhaps the Middle East. Most of the rest are in my baseball charity group, a motley crew made up from bighearted men from all walks of life scattered throughout the country.
With business as tight as it is I now face the same challenge as all other small businessmen: I must build a better network in order to drum up new clients who have an active, vested interest in the type of work I do. I’m a sales coach: I use life skills to build stronger sales forces quickly and fix broken ones. The economy makes finding clients more difficult that in the past because so many suppliers are clamoring and there’s only one way to get in: You must be invited. Computers are the new barb-wire fence. They’re also the new private elevators.
Knowing I need to build a bigger local base I recently attended a structured networking event in downtown Denver. There were 33 people there, nearly all 50-ish white males “in transition.” That’s the buzz phrase for “out of work and scared I won’t find any.” Many I met are miles beyond scared; they are displaced senior IT executives with no foggy clue what to do, brilliant at their profession but helpless at reinventing themselves in a market that no longer cares about what they used to do. Many need an IV bag of confidence as much or more than a job lead. Salespeople, for all our foibles, at least can handle rejection.
The night’s networking experience mimicked speed dating. Ninety seconds reducing your life to sound bites. I went there looking to meet senior executives and garner opinions to help decide whether to join a company and embrace its sales force’s development as my own, build my own sustainable Denver-based consulting practice, or hang a shingle with other consultants as part of an affiliated partnership. Since coming back to the U.S. I’ve been too non-committal about what I planned to do next. I am approaching the time to choose a path and go down it full speed.
Speed-dating was debilitating. The homework was to continue meeting each other for coffee. I have to tell you: I love a good cup of coffee. But for heaven’s sake, I can’t drive all over town to drink it. Although I have met several super fellows — and one is an inordinate young talent who will do great things — coffee is coffee. When invited I accept. When I’m there I sip my coffee, ask a lot of questions, watch, and listen. I spend most of my portion of time coaching these good fellows how to stay positive. The weight of self-doubt is heavy on many. I empathize greatly.
A few days ago one of our Denver Broncos NFL football players killed himself. He was 23. His plan was to be a star. His whole life and identity was built around that notion. Being on the practice squad in the NFL wasn’t good enough. Nor was the salary (nearly $300,000 per year). He rolled over and gave up. Smoked up on weed, closed his eyes, and shot himself once in the head through a pillow.
Young or old, every man’s mind is a cabaret: glitz, glamor, excitement, illusion, deception, and dark shadows. Next time you come across someone who’s “in transition,” make darn sure to make the time to buy him or her a cup of coffee. Do not assume their bravado is genuine. Do not leave a cup of coffee for someone else to offer. Make it happen. And when you do, look and listen, reinvigorate their self-esteem. We all need a boost from time to time. Let’s not wait, okay?