I guess she can tell by the look on my face that I'm completely overwhelmed by Peter's news and maybe a little freaked out. I know zilch about football.
"That's right, Sabrina," Peter chimes in. "The company is giving you this account and with it is expressing pretty much everything that I planned on verbalizing in today's mid-year review. You are an excellent account manager. You have the type of work ethic and attention to detail that Carson Financial values. You've met all of your goals last quarter, and more importantly we value you as a person.
"Good work and congratulations," Peter commends as he hands me a plain manila folder with a stapled packet inside.
"The Gunslinger's one sheet is in here along with a portfolio of his current assets. His game and practice schedule is grueling, so unfortunately the only time he has over the next two weeks to meet with you and sign his paperwork is later today at four o'clock.
"When you meet with him, make sure to have him sign the contract and discuss how things work with us. I've come up with a few goals that you can discuss, which I'll email you, since I know you weren't prepared for all of this today, but feel free to run with any ideas you may come up with.
"I'm giving you full rein with this client, but obviously we'll be watching you closely. He's pretty important to us. So make sure you document things well. Add all significant meetings to the calendar. And just do what you do. Making sure to leave a paper trail that management can check if need be."
I accept the folder reservedly, while my brain is moving a mile a minute. Change is difficult for me. It builds a level of anxiety within me that I am working very hard to keep at bay this very minute. A trait passed down to me from my wonderful nervous Nellie of a mother.
Signs that my nerves are frayed? Well, right now I am dying for a bag of potato chips and a Pepsi, and it's only nine in the morning. Grease and sugar cravings are a sure giveaway that I'm spiraling.
I'm dying to ask Peter why the hell he gaveme,of all people, this particular client.Is this some sort of test?I want to yell at Marisol and tell her to stop laughing at me with her eyes, because trust me, she's cracking up at the fact that I'm silently unraveling. And most of all, I want to smack myself for being so ungrateful. While any sane person would look at this meeting as a sign that their career trajectory is on the right track, and be jumping up and down with excitement, all I can seem to dwell on are all the things that could go wrong, very wrong.
Number one. Carson Financial is known for its management of music entertainers. That is what we specialize in. That is where most of the managers' passions lie (such as myself), and it is where most of our connections are, with companies that want to do business with music entertainers. We (I) don't know the first thing about athletes.
Number two. I don't like sports. I don't watch football, baseball, soccer, hockey, or tennis. I don't even watch the Olympics. Winter or summer. And when the sports segment comes on the evening news, I turn the sound down and read a book. Some of my attitude might have to do with the fact that I suck at sports, some of it might have to do with a little crush I had on a very evil baseball player in high school, but mostly it has to do with the fact that I have a big problem with grown men being overpaid to do what they've been doing since they were three years old ... play. Imagine someone paying me millions of dollars to play Words With Friends on my cell phone? Now that would be freakin' awesome.
Number three. I don't want any new accounts distracting me from my real mission. Becoming a senior account manager. There's no doubt that this ball player is probably young, dumb and has more money than he knows what to do with; how on earth am I going to impress management when I'm going to be stuck with such an unpredictable client. If they would just give me Spin, this would be so easy.
I just love their story. Three high school friends, determined not to sell out, writing socially conscious music in their garage, determined to share their art with the world. Doing a lot of pop-up shows for free, so that all their fans have the opportunity to see them live. And the lead singer Marley. On top of the fact that he's gorgeous, the texture and tone of his voice is haunting and makes you feel like he's singing directly to you. About you. For you.
I'm a numbers girl, and I don't have an artistic bone in my body, so I really respect people who have the gift to create art like that and are brave enough to share it with the world. Not to mention that they make a ton of money at it, and from what Marisol has told me about them, they not only make great money but they spend it wisely. They often give a lot of it away to meaningful charities. Never seeking any press or recognition for their good deeds. Who on earth wouldn't want to have them as a client? Who wouldn't look good with them on their roster?
Ugh, I can feel my nerves churning inside of my stomach like a mixture of bad barbecue and warm beer. This is so off my plan. A huge detour. I have to become a senior manager in the next twelve to eighteen months if I want to stay on track. If I don't, then I'm going to have to re-evaluate my plan, which I really don't want to do. Because like I said, I hate change.
But if this is some sort of test from management, then perhaps I need to look at this whole thing differently. Maybe try altering my way of thinking. This could be a massive opportunity for me if I handle things correctly. Make the most out of it. Bide my time. And then I'm sure I'll get what I deserve eventually. I've got good people in my corner like Marisol and Jason. Yeah, I'm just going to have to bide my time.
"Thank you so much, Peter. I know that this is an amazing opportunity, and I'm honored that you've offered it to me."
"You've earned it, kid. Remember four p.m. in the small conference room. I'll have Dawn order a platter or something and put it in there. You like Pepsi right?"
"Yes, but make it diet," I say brightly. Surprised that he remembers such an irrelevant piece of trivia about me. But I guess that's why he's the boss. He is excellent with small details, and he knows how to make everyone feel special.
"And that, my friend, brings your mid-year evaluation to a close." Marisol throws her arm around my shoulders.
"Any questions about the account can be directed to me or your mentor Jason." She winks.
"Great." I smile. "Thank you, both."
Peter gets up to leave first, and as soon as the door closes behind him, I snap my head around to Marisol in an almost panic. She throws her hand up to stop me before I can even blurt anything out first.
"Stop it. I know what you're going to say. You still want Spin. You hate sports. You don't think that you can do this. But trust me when I say that they wouldn't give you a twenty-two million dollar client if they didn't have plans on making you a senior level manager very soon. Also, look at it this way, it's the perfect excuse for you to work with Jason even more. He is the only senior level here with experience working with athletes."
"Then why on earth didn't they give him the account?"
"He's getting one of the other ones."
"This makes absolutely zero sense."
"Just think about all the legitimate reasons you'll have to ask for a consultation with him." Marisol grins.
"You do realize that you are not a professional matchmaker don't you? This is my career we're talking about. Plus, I don't want to marry the guy. I just have a little crush."
"Little?! I think you need to remember who you're talking to. You've had eyes for him ever since he started working here three years ago. That's a long ass crush."
