I swallowed hard, trying not to be affected by it. “See, that wasn’t so hard. Remember, you’re in the South now.” I inadvertently winked at him. Stupid Kelli. He would probably send me an email later telling me that was unprofessional.
Together we walked in and headed toward the receptionist desk. “We’re here to see Lorelai Duchane,” Mr. Greyson informed the receptionist. Lorelai Duchane was the CEO and President.
“They’re ready for you in conference room one,” said the receptionist, who could hardly take her eyes off my boss. When we followed her back to the conference room, she kept glancing back at him, hoping he was enjoying her backside. It was nice and perky. But Mr. Greyson was all business and kept his eyes forward and to himself.
We entered the conference room to find three others besides Lorelai. I scanned the room quickly to pick up any cues from my audience. I always sought out who I really had to sell to because it wasn't always the big boss. It didn’t take long for me to see that was the case here. I needed to sell the hotshot in the corner, Nicholas Price who was the Executive Vice President. His stiff posture said he was only waiting to say no. I loved a challenge.
Without being too obvious, I directed my presentation to him and put on some subtle charm. I inserted Nicholas’s name whenever I could instead of saying things like when Customer A logs in. It worked quite nicely. He began to playfully banter with me during the presentation. By the end, I had him eating out of my hands, and he was selling it to Lorelai for me.
Mr. Greyson had, surprisingly, let me do my job. He said maybe two words the entire time, and they were at appropriate times andblended well with the direction of the conversation. After the presentation, I let him take over and discuss the finer points of implementation and the mechanics of launching it on their site. He also addressed any security issues they had. We really were a good team; I had better people skills, but his technical knowledge gave people confidence that their data was safe with us.
I could tell that Mr. Greyson was pleased with the way things had gone when he smiled at me between questions and more requests for information. That was always a good sign. Mr. Greyson wasn’t the only man smiling at me. Nicholas Price kept flashing his blinding white teeth at me and trying to engage me in conversation that was unrelated to our product or presentation. I might have paid a little too much attention to him.
At the end of the meeting, Nicholas handed each of us his card, but he didn’t let go when I took it. “My personal number is on the back,” he said, like out of one of those bar scenes in a movie. I almost expected him to call me baby or something. He also held onto my hand longer than appropriate when shaking it. I gently tried to extricate it without appearing rude, even though he was in the wrong. I could tell his overt advances bothered my ever-proper boss. To be honest, they bothered me too. Mr. Greyson was pressing his lips together, his face reddening from probably holding back his comments. I’m sure he wanted to school Nicholas in proper workplace behavior.
As we walked out into the parking lot, I thought Mr. Greyson would be happy, or at least pleased, but he seemed agitated. His shoulders were twitching.
“I think that went very well,” I said cheerfully.
“Maybe too well,” he muttered.
“How is that even possible? What’s wrong?”
He stopped and took a breath. Some of the tension lines in his forehead relaxed. “You did a great job.”
“Thank you?”
“Really, you did. We should go to lunch and celebrate.”
“That would be nice,” came flying out of my mouth. I covered said mouth, wanting to smack myself.
His eyes widened, astounded I said yes. No one was more astounded than me. I think it was the glasses. I saw too much of Ian in him. And it wasn’t like this was an unusual request. Boss and I had been to lunch several times over the years to celebrate, or just to have lunch together. I guess it was appropriate for Mr. Greyson and me to have the same type of post-presentation lunch. Of course, he would never be a Boss, but like it or not, he was my boss.
He behaved like Ian again, opening my door. When I grimaced, his unrelenting posture said I could deal with it. Honestly, though, I was having a hard time dealing with the Ian-Mr. Greyson whiplash. How he could be so different on and off the clock was almost impressive. I wondered what happened at his company to make him behave so rigidly in the office. Or should I say even more rigid than he naturally was?
While Ian seemed pleased I agreed to have lunch with him, he was obviously still bothered by something that happened in our meeting. I could still read him. He kept tapping the steering wheel or clenching and rubbing it. He was also silent, working through something in his thoughts. He should be happy. I had no doubt those guys were signing on the dotted line.
I was trying to think of something to say to break the uncomfortable silence. I finally came up with, “Do you have any other ideas or contacts in other verticals we could approach? Because I was thinking we could go after—”
“Are you going to call that guy?” He abruptly interrupted me. “Because I don’t think that would be a good idea until we close this deal.”
I paused and took a second to make sure I heard him right. Yes. Yes, I had. “I’m not sure that’s any of your concern. In fact, I know it’s not; but no, I have no intention of calling him.”
His shoulders relaxed and he quit tapping on the steering wheel. He also slowed down considerably. He drove fast when he was stressed. I didn’t understand why this was such a stressor.
He briefly glanced over my way. “Why aren’t you going to call him?”
“Is that a real question?”
“Yes,” he said matter-of-factly. “I think he is what most women would find attractive, and I guarantee his position there pays at least triple what you make.”
“And that should mean something to me why?” I asked.
“Money’s not important to you?”
“Not in that way, no. I don’t care about the size of a man’s paycheck, as long as he’s a hard worker and a decent person.”
He pursed his lips, skeptical.
