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Training: Day One
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"At my age and with my experience, I was less than enthusiastic about going through yet another motivational training seminar."
According to the schedule I had been given during my interview, the intensive training program offered by Weston Security Inc. was two days of classroom instruction followed by three days of hands-on practical experience, all capped off with a one-on-one evaluation.
I wasn’t entirely sure what to expect of the classroom instruction; my impression of the company thus far had been confusing and inconsistent, though since I had left Mr. James with ‘Moneypenny’ the previous week, my enthusiasm and determination had turned to suspicion and concern and back again. I was still hopeful and looking for an opportunity, any opportunity to change my situation, but I wasn’t entirely convinced this was one of those opportunities.
Arriving at the makeshift office/service centre, I noticed quite a few more vehicles parked along the driveway and crammed into the parking lot than the previous date, and my second impression, if you will, was that I might be facing some competition for the role of Sales Manager.
I wasn’t entirely sure what to expect of the classroom instruction; my impression of the company thus far had been confusing and inconsistent, though since I had left Mr. James with ‘Moneypenny’ the previous week, my enthusiasm and determination had turned to suspicion and concern and back again. I was still hopeful and looking for an opportunity, any opportunity to change my situation, but I wasn’t entirely convinced this was one of those opportunities.
Arriving at the makeshift office/service centre, I noticed quite a few more vehicles parked along the driveway and crammed into the parking lot than the previous date, and my second impression, if you will, was that I might be facing some competition for the role of Sales Manager.
As I entered the front door of the building, I noticed the same sign still taped to the wall with one lonely piece of scotch-tape, and I wondered, as my ears caught the muffled voices of several people in the offices above me…nothing to lose eh? How about your dignity?
I took a deep breath and climbed the stairs, the voices got louder with each step I took, and as the owners of those voices came into sight, so to did the point of no return.
The first day of training was scheduled to begin at 10 am, and as my watch hands moved past 9:55, I figured the 15 or so people who milled about before me were set to be my classmates momentarily. ‘Moneypenny’ was seated behind her desk, much as she had been the previous day, and for a brief moment I wondered if she had even moved since. Maybe the cot was for her, maybe she was so dedicated to her employer, that she committed herself to the company forever and always, a slave to Corporate America, an over zealous example of capitalism gone wrong.
My wildly distracting imaginings did well to mask my true feelings; I’m prone to jitters and pangs of inadequacy. I was again overdressed but not by much, and as I left poor ‘Moneypenny’ to read her novel in privacy, I scanned the room for an equal. Looking around I read the faces of my competition, young, inexperienced, over-experienced, tired, dull, every face I saw was beaten and defeated before we even began. They each put up a decent front, but it wasn’t difficult to see through their plastic faces and read their fears like a book.
I took a deep breath and climbed the stairs, the voices got louder with each step I took, and as the owners of those voices came into sight, so to did the point of no return.
The first day of training was scheduled to begin at 10 am, and as my watch hands moved past 9:55, I figured the 15 or so people who milled about before me were set to be my classmates momentarily. ‘Moneypenny’ was seated behind her desk, much as she had been the previous day, and for a brief moment I wondered if she had even moved since. Maybe the cot was for her, maybe she was so dedicated to her employer, that she committed herself to the company forever and always, a slave to Corporate America, an over zealous example of capitalism gone wrong.
My wildly distracting imaginings did well to mask my true feelings; I’m prone to jitters and pangs of inadequacy. I was again overdressed but not by much, and as I left poor ‘Moneypenny’ to read her novel in privacy, I scanned the room for an equal. Looking around I read the faces of my competition, young, inexperienced, over-experienced, tired, dull, every face I saw was beaten and defeated before we even began. They each put up a decent front, but it wasn’t difficult to see through their plastic faces and read their fears like a book.
"I took a deep breath and climbed the stairs, the voices got louder with each step I took, and as the owners of those voices came into sight, so to did the point of no return".
My judgement was harsh, and I realised as much when I considered that my face might be betraying me in the same way. Luckily the torturous wait was over and the disjointed voices of the small crowd were silenced by the opening of Mr. Santos’ office door.
Out walked a man whom I least expected; thin, small, understated, even diminutive. He moved quickly and wore a very nice silver suit, which was complimented by his stylish haircut. If I were given only one word to describe the air about him, I would have to say ‘shiny’. Surely this was Mr. Santos, the mystery was solved; we were being recruited into the mob. Again my imagination got the better of me, but for what it was worth, my assumption was correct.
Out walked a man whom I least expected; thin, small, understated, even diminutive. He moved quickly and wore a very nice silver suit, which was complimented by his stylish haircut. If I were given only one word to describe the air about him, I would have to say ‘shiny’. Surely this was Mr. Santos, the mystery was solved; we were being recruited into the mob. Again my imagination got the better of me, but for what it was worth, my assumption was correct.
He introduced himself quickly as Ronaldo Santos, and ushered us into the large boardroom on the opposite site of the office. The room was set up with four rows of medium utility tables, each lined on one side with the same cheap office chairs as were abundant in the foyer. At the head of the room stood a small podium, a slideshow projector and a large whiteboard. As we all shuffled into the room we were handed a blue folder with ADT printed on the front in large white letters, by a younger woman standing just inside the door. It was nice to see actual employees, at least ones that didn’t make me wonder if this was a CIA field recruitment office.
Weighing factors carefully, I chose a seat in the third row of tables from the front, next to a rather large woman, whom I later found out, was a uniformed security guard who felt wasted by the monotony of security work. As I began to lay out my note pad and extra pen, I noticed that I was the only one whom had seen fit to come prepared. I wondered if it would be considered brown-nosing to continue, so I laid the folder out and began looking through the documentation inside.
Each page was earmarked with the ADT logo, and all of it looked far more professional than I expected. The folder was complete with a list of products and sales packages, a few flow charts detailing commissions and sales trends, and sample invoices. On the top of the pile of documents was a regular sheet of paper with just the following word equation printed in the center:
Weighing factors carefully, I chose a seat in the third row of tables from the front, next to a rather large woman, whom I later found out, was a uniformed security guard who felt wasted by the monotony of security work. As I began to lay out my note pad and extra pen, I noticed that I was the only one whom had seen fit to come prepared. I wondered if it would be considered brown-nosing to continue, so I laid the folder out and began looking through the documentation inside.
Each page was earmarked with the ADT logo, and all of it looked far more professional than I expected. The folder was complete with a list of products and sales packages, a few flow charts detailing commissions and sales trends, and sample invoices. On the top of the pile of documents was a regular sheet of paper with just the following word equation printed in the center:
Motivation + Training + Opportunity = Success
An intriguing but simplistic idea, and one that gave me pause in the ongoing justification for continuing. At my age and with my experience, I was less than enthusiastic about going through yet another motivational training seminar. I may have been making excuses, or I may have had a point, but neither made any difference as my thought process was interrupted by Mr. James, when he dropped his expensive brief case on the table beside the projector and took his suit jacket off, hanging it on a nearby chair. 10:00 am on the dot, just as I’d expect from a man as put together as Mr. James.
He took a quick look around the room, taking in all the eager expressions and the general character of the room. Wasting no time, he began right away with introductions and an ice breaking exercise that reminded me of a summer camp activity. He was good at bringing us together, at getting our attention and building the team, it remained to be seen if he was equally proficient with the technical material.
Taking our seats after the ice breaker, Mr. James began by asking everyone to open their folder and to spread out the documents inside like a deck of playing cards. Everyone in the room was obedient and borderline enthusiastic about this venture, I felt like I might have been the only one who was getting annoyed by the theatrics, wishing he would just get on with it, but since I loath the spotlight for spotlight’s sake, I decided it would be best to play along and blend in with the rest of the crowd.
We spent the next hour or so, going over the contents of the folder, Mr. James gave us a quick synopsis of the training program and outlined what we would be doing, and when.
An intriguing but simplistic idea, and one that gave me pause in the ongoing justification for continuing. At my age and with my experience, I was less than enthusiastic about going through yet another motivational training seminar. I may have been making excuses, or I may have had a point, but neither made any difference as my thought process was interrupted by Mr. James, when he dropped his expensive brief case on the table beside the projector and took his suit jacket off, hanging it on a nearby chair. 10:00 am on the dot, just as I’d expect from a man as put together as Mr. James.
He took a quick look around the room, taking in all the eager expressions and the general character of the room. Wasting no time, he began right away with introductions and an ice breaking exercise that reminded me of a summer camp activity. He was good at bringing us together, at getting our attention and building the team, it remained to be seen if he was equally proficient with the technical material.
Taking our seats after the ice breaker, Mr. James began by asking everyone to open their folder and to spread out the documents inside like a deck of playing cards. Everyone in the room was obedient and borderline enthusiastic about this venture, I felt like I might have been the only one who was getting annoyed by the theatrics, wishing he would just get on with it, but since I loath the spotlight for spotlight’s sake, I decided it would be best to play along and blend in with the rest of the crowd.
We spent the next hour or so, going over the contents of the folder, Mr. James gave us a quick synopsis of the training program and outlined what we would be doing, and when.
The only page in the package that he didn’t discuss was the word equation, and it turned out that this was our first lesson of the program. Taking a long pause after receiving no response to his call for questions and comments regarding the program outline, he assertively asked in an almost rhetorical way;
"What is it that makes successful people, successful?”
His first bit of actual instruction had fallen on deaf, or rather ignorant ears. No one seemed to understand the question. I wasn’t sure if this was a result of shyness or first day jitters, or if it was telling of the mindset of my classmates. But even though I instantly grasped where he was going with this question, I too hesitated to volunteer an answer, and the silence seemed to agitate both Mr. James and Mr. Santos, who had been seated near the door, his legs crossed and a stern look of ownership on his face.
"What is it that makes successful people, successful?”
His first bit of actual instruction had fallen on deaf, or rather ignorant ears. No one seemed to understand the question. I wasn’t sure if this was a result of shyness or first day jitters, or if it was telling of the mindset of my classmates. But even though I instantly grasped where he was going with this question, I too hesitated to volunteer an answer, and the silence seemed to agitate both Mr. James and Mr. Santos, who had been seated near the door, his legs crossed and a stern look of ownership on his face.
While I debated about being the first to answer a question (fully realising how silly my reservations were), Mr. James spun and retrieved a blue dry erase marker from the trough at the base of the large white board. He snapped off the top and quickly scribbled the same word equation as was on the top page of our folders. Clearly annoyed by the lack of participation thus far, once he finished his barely legible score, he turned round and locked eyes with the portly woman sitting next to me.
"Do you agree that this formula works?” The woman replied with a diminutive ‘yes’, and nodded her head slightly.
"Ok, from this point on, when you answer or ask a question, I want you to stand, introduce yourself and continue in a clear and loud voice.”
At that moment I saw a spark of the familiar in Mr. James’ eye, as though this had all been rehearsed in advance, maybe even performed like a Broadway play.
My desk mate took instruction well as she rose from her seat and introduced herself to the room, and then simply repeated her previous answer in a louder voice. I found that Mr. James and I both wore the same ironic smile as she sat down. He had been looking for more than a one word answer, but this room was going to make him work today.
"Yes, you're right - it does work. Anyone care to take a guess why?”
The blank faces across the room began to warm to the idea of participating in the discussion, and a young man from the front row offered up his hand.
"Because if you take away one part of the formula it doesn’t work?”
I was clearly in the company of intellectual giants, and the suspense of the situation was almost causing me physical pain. It hadn’t occurred to me that this job, the job of selling high-tech home security systems would be akin to flipping burgers at the fast food joint down the street. My own preconceptions about the level of professionalism in this industry were misplaced. Mr. James, the long time trainer of ADT sales teams, the guru of alarm sales and the sensei of authorised dealers, had done this dance probably hundreds of times before, maybe even thousands of times.
His well practised smile, his perfectly timed outbursts of excitement and of annoyance, all of it designed to build a feeling of parallel commitment in people who’s overall capabilities were far below adequate for the role they were about to take on. Or were they?
"Do you agree that this formula works?” The woman replied with a diminutive ‘yes’, and nodded her head slightly.
"Ok, from this point on, when you answer or ask a question, I want you to stand, introduce yourself and continue in a clear and loud voice.”
At that moment I saw a spark of the familiar in Mr. James’ eye, as though this had all been rehearsed in advance, maybe even performed like a Broadway play.
My desk mate took instruction well as she rose from her seat and introduced herself to the room, and then simply repeated her previous answer in a louder voice. I found that Mr. James and I both wore the same ironic smile as she sat down. He had been looking for more than a one word answer, but this room was going to make him work today.
"Yes, you're right - it does work. Anyone care to take a guess why?”
The blank faces across the room began to warm to the idea of participating in the discussion, and a young man from the front row offered up his hand.
"Because if you take away one part of the formula it doesn’t work?”
I was clearly in the company of intellectual giants, and the suspense of the situation was almost causing me physical pain. It hadn’t occurred to me that this job, the job of selling high-tech home security systems would be akin to flipping burgers at the fast food joint down the street. My own preconceptions about the level of professionalism in this industry were misplaced. Mr. James, the long time trainer of ADT sales teams, the guru of alarm sales and the sensei of authorised dealers, had done this dance probably hundreds of times before, maybe even thousands of times.
His well practised smile, his perfectly timed outbursts of excitement and of annoyance, all of it designed to build a feeling of parallel commitment in people who’s overall capabilities were far below adequate for the role they were about to take on. Or were they?
"At that moment I saw a spark of the familiar in Mr. James’ eye, as though this had all been rehearsed in advance, maybe even performed like a Broadway play".
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