The following post is the first in a series, which is based on my previous professional experience working in KPMG’s corporate finance team. The series is meant to assist readers in their efforts to effectively build relationships with people at work.
She had an exotic look in her eyes; they were pointed on the outside, as though an Asian gene licked their corners through a great, great grandmother. I’m writing from memory, and it must have been my first or second week on the job—I was an intern—when I walked into the elevator on the 33rd floor going down.
She had a thin, small physique, brown hair and brown eyes and she was dressed corporate, in one of those woman suits, a white blouse, navy blazer and trousers. Black heels. She leaned back, against the elevator’s mirror wall. Her ID was sandwiched between her phones. She slouched slightly, standing across from me, and there was no one else in the elevator.
I couldn’t help it: “Hi,” I said, “I’m Alex.”
I reached my arm out to say hello.
“I’m new here,” I said, eyes wide, “and it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
I don’t remember what else was said, it doesn’t matter because connections are made on energy exchanges, not words—we rode that elevator down and now we had met. As we exited, I gave her a wave with my hand, smiled and said goodbye. I knew she was older than I was, and that she was senior to me, but I enjoyed her presence so much that I couldn’t resist expressing my enjoyment.
Isn’t that what the game is all about—expression? Isn’t that what we’re all trying to figure out in our lives—how to express ourselves into the world?
Turned out she was a partner in the firm.
I learned this weeks later when she approached my boss for a conversation. I didn’t say anything to her even though I was in their space, close enough that I could have said something. But I didn’t because the energy we exchanged in the lift wasn’t “professional,” it was otherwise, and when you exchange that type of energy, particularly with someone senior to you, you keep it strictly to yourself.
The moment you go around flaunting that kind of interaction, you ruin the energy and you ruin your chances of building a relationship with that person. It’s called downplaying. People that build success on their interpersonal skills employ it. We’ll cover this point in more detail later. It’s important.
If we’re being honest with each other, the principle reason I didn’t say anything that time is because I felt nervous. After all, allowing yourself to feel what you naturally feel, and more so—allowing yourself to express it, isn’t always rewarded in a corporate environment. A combination of fear that I had acted unprofessionally, and a feeling of inadequacy related to being an intern held me back. She was a partner, after all. How dare I consider myself worthy of enjoying her?
But she remembered me from the interaction in the elevator. How could she not? Women love being enjoyed. I know she remembered because a few days later, my director, with whom she had been speaking, dropped a hint that she mentioned my shyness. He said she asked about me and asked whether I was scared of her.
At this moment, two things happened: I realized that she wasn’t ambivalent about me, and I remembered who I was. I reminded myself that we’re all just people trying to find our way in life, made mental note, and went about my business as usual.
More in my next post.
She had an exotic look in her eyes; they were pointed on the outside, as though an Asian gene licked their corners through a great, great grandmother. I’m writing from memory, and it must have been my first or second week on the job—I was an intern—when I walked into the elevator on the 33rd floor going down.
She had a thin, small physique, brown hair and brown eyes and she was dressed corporate, in one of those woman suits, a white blouse, navy blazer and trousers. Black heels. She leaned back, against the elevator’s mirror wall. Her ID was sandwiched between her phones. She slouched slightly, standing across from me, and there was no one else in the elevator.
I couldn’t help it: “Hi,” I said, “I’m Alex.”
I reached my arm out to say hello.
“I’m new here,” I said, eyes wide, “and it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
I don’t remember what else was said, it doesn’t matter because connections are made on energy exchanges, not words—we rode that elevator down and now we had met. As we exited, I gave her a wave with my hand, smiled and said goodbye. I knew she was older than I was, and that she was senior to me, but I enjoyed her presence so much that I couldn’t resist expressing my enjoyment.
Isn’t that what the game is all about—expression? Isn’t that what we’re all trying to figure out in our lives—how to express ourselves into the world?
Turned out she was a partner in the firm.
I learned this weeks later when she approached my boss for a conversation. I didn’t say anything to her even though I was in their space, close enough that I could have said something. But I didn’t because the energy we exchanged in the lift wasn’t “professional,” it was otherwise, and when you exchange that type of energy, particularly with someone senior to you, you keep it strictly to yourself.
The moment you go around flaunting that kind of interaction, you ruin the energy and you ruin your chances of building a relationship with that person. It’s called downplaying. People that build success on their interpersonal skills employ it. We’ll cover this point in more detail later. It’s important.
If we’re being honest with each other, the principle reason I didn’t say anything that time is because I felt nervous. After all, allowing yourself to feel what you naturally feel, and more so—allowing yourself to express it, isn’t always rewarded in a corporate environment. A combination of fear that I had acted unprofessionally, and a feeling of inadequacy related to being an intern held me back. She was a partner, after all. How dare I consider myself worthy of enjoying her?
But she remembered me from the interaction in the elevator. How could she not? Women love being enjoyed. I know she remembered because a few days later, my director, with whom she had been speaking, dropped a hint that she mentioned my shyness. He said she asked about me and asked whether I was scared of her.
At this moment, two things happened: I realized that she wasn’t ambivalent about me, and I remembered who I was. I reminded myself that we’re all just people trying to find our way in life, made mental note, and went about my business as usual.
More in my next post.