Before COVID, I did some light consulting for technology companies. The work ranged from improving customer advisory boards to helping marketing and sales communicate without mutual resentment. Sometimes it involved content, events, or being in a room with smart people who needed another brain.
It was fine work. Casual. Almost social. Friends referred me to former colleagues. I worked when people needed me and when it fit my life. I never treated it like a pipeline.
One of those clients invited me to their on-site company holiday party. They paid my day rate and covered airfare and a hotel. The only guidance they gave me was that it was a Christmas-themed event with ugly sweaters, and I should dress accordingly.
It was a weird note. I’m not Christian, but I like the holiday season well enough. Cookies. Gifts. Being around people I enjoy. So I went to the mall and bought a red holiday plaid tartan skirt that could have doubled as a tree skirt or a Christmas tablecloth. I paired it with a black sweater and black boots. It was professional, festive, and absolutely fine.
At the party, my primary contact pulled me aside and said, “I got you some time with the CEO. Just fifteen minutes.”
I asked, “Why?”
He said, “Don’t you want to understand his priorities for next year?”
Reader, I did not.
I’ve never met a CEO whose priorities weren’t some mix of more revenue, higher margins, lower costs, and better customer retention. I didn’t need fifteen minutes of corporate speak to confirm that. I also didn’t see this work as something I needed to grow. It existed because people called me when they needed help.
But he insisted, so we went up to the CEO’s office.
Right before we walked in, he asked if I wanted a pen and paper to take notes.
Nope. I was rawdogging this meeting.
The meeting itself was fine. The CEO was wearing one of those ugly Christmas sweaters that isn’t really ugly and was probably approved by corporate communications. He told me, in slightly different words, that he wanted to make more money, keep customers longer, reduce costs, and be taken more seriously by the mainstream media as a thought leader.
I nodded, said polite things, and wished him a happy new year.
As we were leaving, he asked me to stay back for a moment.
We were both standing. He was about six inches taller than me. He looked down and said, “The next time a client invites you to a holiday party, you should probably look the part.”
All I said was, “Okay.”
That was the last time I worked with that company. It was also the last time I wore red tartan plaid.