Turning Point: All Was Lost

“Ted, Ted Leonhardt?

Hi I’m Steve O’Brian,” (a pseudonym). “I’m here from Gunn in Boston looking for a sales position.”

It’s late in the day, darkening, the hall lights a slightly green tint on the industrial carpet, as I exit the men’s room, caught completely by surprise.

But I knew of Boston’s Gunn Associates. A much-lauded design firm.

“Ted, I hate to barge in on you like this.”

Had he been waiting for me? I checked my watch. It was half past five and I was about to head home.

“Ted, Kathryn Spangler tells me you’re looking for a salesman.”

First Gunn Associates, then Kathy Spangler; that got me. Kathy was my former partner. Gotta talk to this guy.

I extended my hand and said, “Steve, let’s talk inside.”

Once in our conference room, Steve placed his bag on the floor, not on the table or a chair. Then, he turned his attention to the work pinned on cork covered walls and the presentation rail, looking at each carefully. He picked up the packaging and brochures not pinned, turning pages and examining each with care, nodding.

I let him take his time, thinking if he’s really from Gunn, this could be the break we needed. I pulled out a chair and settled in.

“Ted, your work is very good. It’s a pleasure to see. I asked around about you. You are well regarded.”

I enjoyed the compliment but reminded myself that this guy’s a salesman.

“Ted, let me tell you a bit about myself, and what I’m looking for.”

He crossed the room, retrieved his bag and returned to the other side, where he slid out a chair and sat down with his bag on his lap, from which he pulled a hefty, oversized brochure with “Gunn” in large sans-serif caps on its cover, and placed it with deliberate care on the table.

“Ted, my wife was relocated to Seattle. I’ve been with Gunn for years. Love the place. But my heart says I must follow.”

All said making eye contact with me, his hands on either side of the brochure.

Being newly in love myself, I nodded my understanding, and said so.

Steve went on with, “I don’t know how much you know about Gunn, but we have the absolute highest standards that we apply to all our work. Let me show you what I mean.”

With that he turned the brochure to me, opened the cover and began to describe the people and the work depicted inside.

I was captured. First, the print quality of the brochure was maybe the best I’d ever seen. Someone that knew printing had pushed that piece to the highest level. Second, the manner in which Steve handled the pages demonstrated the reverence he had for the piece. Finally, his use of language to describe the strategic goals and the creative solutions was as persuasive as I’d ever heard.

I was sold.

Maybe three quarters of an hour had passed when Steve excused himself, checked his watch and said, “I’m sorry, Ted, I must pick up Sandy at six-thirty.”

He stood, we shook, and he departed. I’d just been managed by an expert.

Once home, although Carolyn agreed we needed sales help, her concern was a potential conflict between a northeastern, “Boston” personal style and Seattle; that the pressure an easterner might affect would turn people off.

But we agreed that this could be the guy we needed. Worth another meeting.

A few days passed. We waited. When Steve called, he suggested that he and Carolyn have lunch together. They did. She was as impressed as I had been, and her fears about his east coast style completely evaporated.

In our next meeting together, we talked salary and commission and came to handshake agreement. That evening Carolyn and I celebrated. We were ecstatic. This guy, Steve, was a rockstar, the answer, and he was ours. We’d done it. We were in.

The crushing weight of missing goals, the exhausting demands on me and the many losses to competitors suddenly lifted. From anxiety to a profound, if fragile, sense of relief.

Our “losing hand,” our stagnant reality, replaced by a guaranteed win. We had with Steve not only experience but the very fact that he’d sign with us proof from the very best that we were worthy.

The very next day, again, end of the day. Steve steps into our reception. I just happen to see him as I’m stepping out of the conference room.

“Ted, is Carolyn in?”

“Yes.”

“If you’ve got a moment, I’d like to speak to both of you.”

My first thought is, “Is he going to ask for more money?” as I stick my head into Carolyn’s office to say, “Got a moment? Steve’s here and wants to talk.”

Once seated in the conference room. Steve says, “I’m sorry to say I’ve taken a position with Kathryn.”

“Kathy Spangler?”

Carolyn’s face falls. This is bad.

“Why, what happened? Steve, we had a deal…”

“Yes, I’m terribly sorry. You see, Kathryn is with Evans Kraft. I just met with Don Kraft, and –– I don’t know and better way to tell you this –– the agency has resources, depth that you don’t have. I must look out for myself and Sandy. And I simply can’t take the risk.”

Carolyn is crying now.

Steve stands and comes around the table. He puts a hand on Carolyn’s shoulder and says, “I’m so sorry…”

She brushes it off. Stands, tears streaming, and leaves the office before he can continue.

It’s no longer a simple business setback. It’s catastrophic — a professional betrayal, and a personal one.

We had a deal with a savior, a rockstar, only to lose to my ex-partner — a direct competitor — without even thinking we were in a competition.

We were used as leverage.

For days afterward, neither of us said much. There wasn’t much to say.

***

Tim Young, sticks his head into my office and askes, “are you guys still looking for a salesman?” Tim is one of our best designers.

“A guy at my church is working for the Art Institute in sales. He’s looking.”

Tim’s friend is Don Low. Don has been representing the Art Institute to high school seniors and their parents.

Carolyn first voiced what I’d been thinking. “Can a guy selling an art school to teenagers sell design to corporate clients?”

We hired him.

The first thing Don did every morning was sit in my office and ask questions about our work: why the client, why the project, what was the need, was there research, what was the strategy, how’s the creative meet the client’s need, and on and on.

Don recorded my answers and listened to the recordings on his commute.

Work from first local giants, then national, began to head our way.

Thank you, Tim Young.

Don was a learning machine.