I was an average student at an excellent High School who didn't get good enough grades to get into a top notch college. I lucked into a university that had a top fifty (49th according to one national magazine) rated undergraduate business school and continued to get average grades there. My education turned out to be exceptional, however, but not because of what I learned in business school classes; it was what I learned during the summer.
Perhaps my two most outstanding features are that I'm cute and friendly. This especially plays well with women - and most particularly with women older than I am. During summer internships and jobs I got along very well with female employees and bosses including some that almost no one else got along with. One mid-level boss in particular in my summer job between my junior and senior years, when I was twenty one and she was thirty three, was particularly nasty. The lessons I learned in dealing with her were the most valuable in learning how to succeed in business - my way.
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Lilith was in charge of all summer employees for a large general services company. Why the management of KYZ Corp. put her in charge I'll never know - maybe they were just trying to turn all summer employees off on applying for permanent jobs, which of course doesn't make any sense. Anyway, one of the more educated and clever of my summer co-workers advised the rest of us that in the Bible and in religious mythology "Lilith" is variously described as a demon-goddess and the female personification of the devil. The name fit her perfectly, and behind her back all summer employees - male and female - referred to her as "She-Devil."
Lilith/She-Devil busted everyone's butts, never finding anything good in their work, and loudly and publicly criticizing them for any error, no matter how trivial. I was the only one who always took her shit with a smile on my face, remained friendly toward her despite the fact that it wasn't reciprocated, and actually said non-work related things to her.
In addition to being a She-Devil, Lilith was not particularly good looking, at least not on first glance. After carefully studying her - I chose my desk so that I had the best view of her when she was at hers - however, I postulated that in fact her lack of attractiveness was primarily because she didn't take care of herself. I think that she had low self-esteem and that was the reason that she acted the way that she did, and didn't bother with her appearance.
For whatever reason, the projects that Lilith assigned to me appeared to be much more difficult than they really were. Also, I was very lucky in that the best professor that I had my junior year had everyone in the class participate in teams on a project that was very similar to the most important project [known as "the Vitale Project"] that Lilith had assigned to me. This gave me a significant amount of free time to investigate Lilith thoroughly.
I guess maybe at this juncture I should tell you one of my personality traits for you to believe what happened next. I'm BOLD. Some would call my manifestation of boldness courageous, others would call it foolhardy, some would call it criminal, others admirable, others immoral - you get the picture.
After hours, or really early in the morning, I'd look through Lilith's desk, review things on her computer that weren't password protected, and once I found her main password in her purse when she went to the bathroom without it one day, I hacked into her Facebook and other social media accounts and reviewed an on-line journal that she kept. I also found out that she wrote a blog related to dogs - her biggest passion but one that she kept secret from everyone at work. She wrote the blog anonymously under the name "Aspiring Dog Whisperer."
On a morning when I knew that she would be coming by my desk to bust my balls about the Vitale Project, for which I intentionally had not recently submitted progress reports, but which I had finished, I had her blog on my computer screen and the finished, bound, project final report on my desk. I saw her coming and smiled to myself.
"Simpleton," she snarled - my name is Brian Simpson but she had insulting nicknames for all the summer employees that were perversions of either their first or last name - "you haven't gotten me any progress reports on the Vitale project for more than a week. What the hell are you doing?"
"Oh, sorry, Lilith," I subserviently replied. "I...I...really am sorry, especially since you caught me reading my favorite blog. But please don't get too mad - even though I've failed on the progress reports I do have the Vitale project completed."
With that I held the bound report up next to the computer screen so that she would have to look at it, and had enlarged the print so that the "Aspiring Dog Whisperer" blog title could not be missed.
It was the first time during the summer that she was at a loss for words. Other summer employees sitting nearby were steeling themselves for the explosion - which never came.
After a long pause, in a normal voice, she said "Oh; let me have that binder, will you."
I handed the binder to her by moving it slowly in front of the screen. When it reached her hand she instinctively grasped it but it was clear that she was looking at the blog. "Why are you reading a blog about dogs?" she calmly asked.
"Oh - well first of all because I love them - I just lost my childhood dog, my best friend - at the very end of last school year - and also because even if I didn't like dogs I find this blog very entertaining." Complete bullshit, of course, but delivered so convincingly that her jaw actually dropped.
"Do you like dogs Lilith? Have you ever seen this blog?" I asked with an innocent look on my face.
"Uh...I kind of like them; I...don't...uh think I've read that blog," she got out in a pleasant, though hesitant, voice since she was still startled. Then she either saw or sensed that the other summer employees were staring at her dumbfounded, so she quickly changed back to her normal tone. "You shouldn't be reading blogs on office time, Brian," she scolded. "If you were reading a blog before finishing the Vitale report," she fumed - most likely pretend fuming - while shaking the report in her hand "I would have your ass on a platter." Then she stomped off.
It was not lost on me that she had called me "Brian" instead of "Simpleton."
Her handling of the report allowed me to take the next important step in my process of learning how to succeed, one way or another, in business.
The next morning she stomped over to my desk and said "Simpson," not "Brian," but also not "Simpleton" either, "Let's go to the conference room to review your report." I brought the magazine page that I had clipped the night before with me under my copy of the report.
Of course she found fault in the report - one error I made on purpose, and a couple of picayune things that she obviously didn't really care about but just wanted a reason to let me think that she really didn't like it. After I apologized profusely and promised to fix the report, pursuant to my plan when I picked up my copy of the report the magazine page was easily visible still on the table. She saw it immediately.
"What's that?" she snapped.
"Oh...shit; I'm really sorry, Lilith. I saw this and I thought that one of the models looked so much like you that she might be related. I...I...I never would have the nerve to ask you, though. I'm SOOO sorry."
As I slowly reached for the magazine page with a completely chagrined look on my face, she beat me to it. "Which one is it?" she scowled.
"Uh...the one in the paisley skirt. I hope that you're not insulted, but if you had on a nice outfit like that instead of normal work clothes I think you'd look a lot like her. Is she related?"
