The Awards Ceremony on Wall Street

This is the second installment in my Sales Stories series.

There are thousands of stories to tell, and I’ve decided they won’t necessarily appear in chronological order. In the first story, I was eight years old, and the year was 1967. In this one, it’s the late 1990s, and I’m around 40.

At the time, I was working as a Senior Vice President for a Fortune 50 company. The company had recruited me away from my previous firm with a substantial upfront bonus. Its lawyers also negotiated a settlement that released me from what I would have owed for breaking my contract and leaving early.

This practice was common in the industry back then. In fact, this was my fourth company in seven years. The process resembled what major-league athletes go through today: companies recruited top performers, paid bonuses to acquire them and, occasionally, traded them elsewhere.

I was invited to an awards ceremony on Wall Street after being selected as one of the company’s top 10 brokers in the country.

What made it especially nice was that four of the 10—including me—worked in the same Jacksonville office, in a building overlooking the St. Johns River. Each of us had a team assisting us, and we each occupied our own wing of the office.

When we arrived in New York City, a large, shiny black limousine picked us up and took us first to Times Square.

I had been there before, as had some of the other participants. The limo pulled up perpendicular to the famous neon signs. The driver asked us to step out, stand behind the car and look up.

Much to our surprise, the company had sponsored a sign displaying our names and recognizing us as its top 10 brokers in the country.

I appreciated the gesture, but it didn’t really make me feel any more special. Looking around at the other brokers, I could tell that some were considerably more excited than others.

From there, we were whisked away to dinner with the company’s CEO.

We sat at a long table in a beautifully appointed room, complete with candlelight and elegant surroundings. The CEO sat at one end of the table. I sat at the other with my three fellow Jacksonville award winners and the six brokers we had met earlier that evening.

We were about to enjoy a seven-course meal.

Then, for reasons I still don’t completely understand, I was given the honor of opening what appeared to be an oversized bottle of wine.

Forgive me—I’m not a wine expert. I couldn’t tell you the label, the vineyard or the year. I only remember that it was a large bottle, and the wine was apparently quite old.

“When you don’t know how to do something particularly well, say so, or politely decline the honor.”

I had opened wine only a few times before, and I had always struggled with it. It had embarrassed me on dates, and although I knew I was clumsy, I could never quite understand why such a seemingly simple task gave me so much trouble.

Now I had to perform it in front of the company’s CEO and nine of the best brokers in the country.

I held my breath and hoped for the best.

I slowly wrestled with the cork, placing one thumb on top of it so that, if it came out prematurely, there wouldn’t be much damage.

Or at least that was the plan.

After an awkward 30 seconds—with everyone at the table waiting—the cork finally came out with an explosion.

It traveled in a perfectly straight line across the length of the table…

…and hit the CEO directly in the chest.

I held my breath again.

For several awkward seconds, I waited for his reaction—and possibly an announcement regarding my future with the company.

Fortunately for me, he started laughing.

Then everyone else started laughing.

I was allowed to retain my job and remained with the company for another year—until I was “traded” to another firm.

But that is another Sales Story for another day.

What did I learn?

First, awards, recognition and attention do not create lasting happiness. If we depend on them to feel fulfilled, we begin craving more and more of them. That can put us squarely inside “the Matrix”—constantly chasing the things the world tells us should make us happy.

Second, when you don’t know how to do something particularly well, say so—or politely decline the honor.

It may save you from the incident…and its aftermath.

There will be more Sales Stories to come.