Many years ago, I worked for an extraordinary chap and he was the most influential person of my entire career. His name was Nick and he hailed from the UK sporting a thick British accent, a gentle but firm disposition, and a warm smile. Nick selected me from a pool of qualified candidates for two reasons. The first was that I had experience managing a busy studio of more than 25 people (each with their own unique and distinct personality) and I had just completed the research to replace an entire CRM tracking system– two things Nick found critical to the role.
The second reason was that I appeared to be bright-eyed, optimistic and undeterred. (Nick conveniently failed to mention the degree of difficulty I’d face dealing with the firm’s biggest client…let’s call him “M”– so the can-do attitude was the clincher.) Ok, that’s technically more than two things but it wasn’t a math professorship it was a management job. (Is professorship even a word?) Anyway, I was super excited about the opportunity! I was just shy of my thirtieth birthday and I was hired to run the US satellite of a UK-based design firm. How cool? I jumped right in.
Once a month for a week at a time, Nick would visit me in the US office and we’d collaborate on business operating techniques, analyze the P&L, and strategize best practices for working with M. The studio dealt with M’s whims on an every-minute-of-the-day basis, as he was extremely demanding. M was fond of surprise visits where an all-out meltdown complete with big hand gestures, snide remarks under his breath loud enough for all of us to hear, side eye, sneering, steepled fingers, carefully timed heavy sighs, actual finger pointing, and rapid foot tapping was not out of the question. (Phones didn’t have cameras back then or I would gladly share an incriminating video. And yes, it would have totally gone viral.) M would change his mind on creative direction three or four times in a single afternoon on multiple projects simultaneously. He was more than temperamental, and certainly a handful even on his best day. With a common enemy, lofty goals, and specific direction, Nick and I bonded quickly.
I soon learned that the kicker to the whole arrangement was that my company was formed because M’s spending had been completely out of control. When questioned, M could not track nor justify hundreds of thousands of dollars in expenses for furniture, travel, messengers, meals, competitive shopping, merchandising, and the catchall category of marketing. His explanations were vague at best…but rumor had it that M had commissioned the design of a spectacular $100,000.00 table for a photoshoot, and after the last picture had been snapped, this footed masterpiece walked off the set unassisted and miraculously found its way into M’s dining room where the dimensions just happened to fit perfectly… or so the rumor mill claimed. I was told this story by my favorite graphic artist, let’s call her “A” (I got on quickly with my staff) and I didn’t doubt it for a minute. Of course I told Nick immediately and the look on his face, well gobsmacked didn’t even cover it but what he did say was, “He might have done.” I laughed.
Even with the rumors of misappropriated funds, and the missing table, management refused to fire M because as a creative director his talents were exceptional, and his vision was extraordinary. So instead, as a punishment slash experiment, they moved his entire staff to a downtown studio to be run by an outside team that I was now spearheading locally. (What the actual fuck had I gotten myself into? Nick!! These were details that I could have used before I accepted the job.) So basically M felt like we had stolen his people and his power, and he was one angry cat.
Nothing we did or would do was going to be right– our success would have been further proof that he had screwed up and deserved to lose his team. Our contract was a three-year trial on a cost-plus basis and our primary tasks were to please M and to accurately track expenses. So although we couldn’t fail in this scenario (for the three years anyway), M was determined to undermine our efforts and run up our fees so that at the end of the contract, he could show that we had far exceeded the monies he had spent. As a reward for our failure, he expected to be reunited with his team. My job started six weeks into the three-year deal. The thought never even occurred to me that my role and the very fate of the studio had been doomed from the start, but Nick had known the minute he met M that there was no way this venture could succeed.
Nick never seemed phased by the pressure cooker M created, but I worked tirelessly seven days a week for the first four months, sending status reports to London every Friday highlighting my success. I added four new graphic artists to the team to improve turnaround time, hired a chief technology officer to backup our work, maximize efficiency at all workstations, and handle onsite computer emergencies. (He also doubled as our Photoshop retouching expert.) I brought in a senior account manager to handle overflow M requests and calls, and permanently staffed a messenger to run deliveries of physical mockups, box props, risers, and layouts back and forth to M’s office in midtown three times a day. I approved the purchase of the new CRM system and oversaw the implementation and migration, keying a lot of the data personally during many late nights at the office. I was determined to impress Nick and please M. I was bright-eyed, optimistic and undeterred, remember? I was also working my ass off. Although M wasn’t happy, the studio hummed and the staff seemed quite pleased with the changes, although their pace was often times frantic.
One particularly stressful morning, M was in my office promptly at 9am for a sit down with both me and Nick. M ranted for three hours straight (gestures, sighs, foot tapping, pointing– the works), which is a super long time to complain without stopping. Nick said very little and deferred to me with quietly raised brows and small nods in my direction. I was fine with responding to M. I managed the business, and I was prepared to take the heat. I was extremely vocal trying to appease M by offering solutions, explanations and a dose of reality– but the guy was completely unreasonable. (Lest we forget that the entire studio of artists was his old team! So suddenly their work product was crap? The only things that had materially changed were their geographic location and the number of edits M had been frivolously requesting). M wasn’t having any of my backtalk and I was exasperated while M seemed energized.
At the end of the tirade, M stormed out pleased, and I was left staring at Nick who had a huge smile on his face. I was confused and starving, and I desperately had to pee!
Emily: When I am not here… Andrea, you are chained to that desk!
Andi: But what if I have to…
Emily: What? No! Nothing! One time an assistant left the desk oh because she sliced her hand open with a letter opener, and Miranda missed Lagerfeld just before he was about to board a 17- hour flight to Australia. She now works at TV Guide.
Andi: Man the desk at all times. Got it.
Andrea Sachs talking to Emily Charlton in The Devil Wears Prada
Upon my return from the ladies’ room, Nick suggested we take off for lunch. I had never heard a better suggestion.
I guess the Brits lunch a bit early. Usually when Nick was in town, we dined at or before 12 noon, which was fine with me since I was perpetually starving. We’d hit Mayrose downstairs for big burgers or fresh salads, Eisenberg’s for classic tuna sandwiches or omelettes, and La Pizza Fresca on 20th for wood fired pizzas and that amazing polenta with the creamy mushroom sauce. Sometimes we went to L’Express and sat outside to enjoy a baguette with ham and cheese for him or chicken (no ham) for me and crème brûlée. Thank God Nick was big on dessert! Often times I barely had to twist his arm to share something delicious. If our time was tight, we would hit Duane Reade on the way back to grab sweets for our collective 3pm chocolate fix. He was a huge marzipan fan and favored Ritter Sport’s distinctive square bars with the red packaging. I was more of a Peanut M&M’s kind of gal, unless I was craving a Twix or a Kit Kat. We were quite a pair.
In light of the hellish morning we had, Nick mentioned that he fancied a good cocktail. We left promptly to dine at Union Square Cafe with a hefty pour for him and a glass of bubbly for me. I was tempted to down the whole flute in one swallow, but cooler heads prevailed. I finally commented on his strangely calm demeanor and what followed was a life changing conversation for me. “M doesn’t call these meetings for us to respond, Jen,” he started. “He has these meetings so that he can be angry and have an audience see that he’s angry. He isn’t expecting you to fix the problems that he himself has created. He just wants to vent since he refuses to accept responsibility for his mess. He can’t complain to his boss, but he can chew you out. And you can’t walk away since he’s the client. Going forward, it’s best to say very little and you’ll see that those meetings will end quickly, and M will start to trust you.” My only reply was, “Wait, what? You want me to ignore him? And he’s going to trust me?” Clearly I missed the point entirely. “No,” Nick went on. “M is just looking for validation. He just wants to be heard. When you respond, he thinks you’re listening just to formulate a reply or waiting for your chance to speak. Just listen. And show him that you’re listening.” I repeated back, “Show him that I’m listening. Okaaaay, I will try it.”
Sure enough, M’s next surprise visit caught me off guard, with a stack of timesheets in my hand, and during a week that Nick was in the UK. So I invited M into my office, carefully gathered the papers, set them down, smoothed my skirt, pushed my shoulders back, and took my seat. For the entire duration of the meeting I sat still, hands folded on the desk, breathing slowly, making direct eye contact and nodding slowly as M went to town. My heart was beating out of my chest and I was sure he could tell. I dug my fingernails into my palm at one point to stay focused. I let him rant and I said absolutely nothing besides, “I understand,” when I felt it was appropriate. When he was done, M thanked me. (Now that was a first!) He wished me a good day and practically skipped out of the studio. I sat back in my chair and chuckled until my laugh was so loud A came in to check on me. “You ok, Jen?” she asked. “Oh yeah. Me? I am fucking great!” I called Nick and relayed the details of my meeting. He was very pleased. I could almost hear his smile. “Well done indeed, Jen.” “Well done indeed, Nick,” I said.
My relationship with M improved immediately. I never explained or apologized after that and M felt heard and respected. This simple but powerful technique really changed my life— offer no advice, do not rebut, let the other person vent, and just listen intently, showing them that you care about what they are saying. You don’t have to agree! There’s no need to judge. Your opinion isn’t being requested!
I eventually got comfortable in this mode with M, and I was still working my tail off, but the writing was on the wall, and I knew the clock was ticking. A few months later, Nick and I were talking, and I guess I looked a little worried. Nick said, “Just because success isn’t an option Jen, doesn’t mean you failed.” It took me a few minutes to process that concept. And when I did, these words changed my entire perspective on my situation and myself. And Nick was right. There was no way M was ever going to let the studio continue past the original contracted allotment, and that was not a reflection on my efforts or my dedication, smarts, or success! Once I accepted that inevitability, I was able to think about the future and eventually capitalize on an opportunity to change my focus and move into a sales role for a financial company. Nick’s little nugget of genius transcended the M situation and enabled me to deepen my relationships and develop better friendships by really listening. I even became a vault of sorts for friends, being entrusted with their innermost secrets.
Of course the studio gig blew up at the three-year mark, but by then both Nick and I had already moved onto less volatile pastures, and I heard from A that M was able to get four matching chairs for his fabulous table the year after his team returned.
My life ended up taking a turn for the more difficult and even though Nick and I were long distance pen pals by then, he proved instrumental again with his worldly advice. I was really struggling in my marriage and I knew the right decision was to leave. But I had a toddler, and I would have to move, and find Matty a new nursery school in the City, and I’d be a single Mom, and people would judge me, and I’d be alone, and, and, and. The list was too big to tackle so I stayed put. Until Nick said, “Jen, if you separate the decision making from the implementation, you’ll never make a bad choice.” His words gave me the courage to make a heart wrenching choice with a clear conscience, and then move forward with a non-emotional list to make those things happen. I filed the paperwork, found an apartment, got Matty into a great nursery school, made the leap to reclaim my freedom, and never looked back. I learned to listen to myself and trust my judgement too.
Nick and I are still in close touch. He was in the States a few years back and we had a lovely four-hour lunch to catch up, and I was able to meet his fiancée, (now wife!) Dominique. And three years ago I took Matty to London where he was able to meet my mentor and life-long friend. I even used Nick recently for a job reference and when he was asked the question, “If you had the opportunity to hire this employee again, would you?” his exact reply was, “In a heartbeat.” (I guess it must have been my listening skills that left such a good impression!) Thank you, Nick, for everything. Our friendship humbles me, and I feel truly honored to have you in my life. xoxo
jenslittleblackbook.com 