Are you for real?
I've been thinking a lot lately about authenticity - in other words, letting my true self shine through in all of my interactions with clients, prospects, friends and anyone else who happens to be around me. For me (and most people) that is a scary thought. Allow me to explain.
Way back in the dark ages, (1991) my wife and I founded what would become a successful marketing agency. I gave myself the title of "president" and went about acting "presidential". After a few years of growth, my board of directors told me I should also be "CEO" (whatever that meant) so I proudly added that title to my business card and went about acting like a "CEO". I was 29 years old.
The problem was, I wasn't a CEO. I was a young man attempting to act like a CEO. I wore suits and really nice ties. I wore Italian shoes. I drove Corvettes. But mostly I screwed things up.
At the same time, I had a separate life on weekends as a professional guitarist, singer/bandleader. I won awards. I performed in front of thousands of people, governors (National Governors Conventions), I was interviewed for newspapers and magazines. I was featured in the Chicago Blues Calendar and hung out and performed with national blues artists. I strutted, I hollered, I wore leopard skin shoes. It was a blast. But when Monday morning came, the suit came out and I stuffed my true self back into a starched shirt and tie.
Looking back I realize that the true issue had nothing to do with experience or skill - I had plenty of those things. The real issue was that I had preconceptions of what a CEO was, how a CEO acted and what it meant to hold said title. I was putting on a preconceived personality like I was putting on that stupid suit. It's not that it didn't work - by any typical measure (money, prestigious clients, etc.) I was very successful. The problem was that it wasn't sustainable and it made me miserable. It never occurred to me to just be myself.
September 11, 2001 was the catalyst that put an end to my charade. As billings plunged after the terror attack, it was clear to me that things needed to change. I could have kept my business afloat by shedding staff and waiting out the economic aftermath but instead, I shut the doors and started a journey that would lead me back to Austin, back to being "me".
So who am I? I am a pragmatic marketing and sales expert who is sometimes brash, opinionated and sometimes I forget to shave. I care deeply about my client's success and I am not prone to ass-kissing or coddling these clients. I'm a problem solver obsessed with process. I've lived with Sioux Indians, and flew a Cessna when I was seven. But mostly, I'm still that 29 year old kid who's hair is turning gray, still enjoys cranking up the blues, and I still screw things up. The funny thing is, I'm much happier, I have the same level of success as before (although I measure it differently) and I don't worry about someone seeing through the facade - because there is no facade. At least that's my goal.
The moral of my story is this: be authentic without worrying about what people think. People do business with people who are real. Even if "real" isn't "perfect". I would rather someone thought I was obnoxious than a fake. At least they would be right.
Way back in the dark ages, (1991) my wife and I founded what would become a successful marketing agency. I gave myself the title of "president" and went about acting "presidential". After a few years of growth, my board of directors told me I should also be "CEO" (whatever that meant) so I proudly added that title to my business card and went about acting like a "CEO". I was 29 years old.
The problem was, I wasn't a CEO. I was a young man attempting to act like a CEO. I wore suits and really nice ties. I wore Italian shoes. I drove Corvettes. But mostly I screwed things up.
At the same time, I had a separate life on weekends as a professional guitarist, singer/bandleader. I won awards. I performed in front of thousands of people, governors (National Governors Conventions), I was interviewed for newspapers and magazines. I was featured in the Chicago Blues Calendar and hung out and performed with national blues artists. I strutted, I hollered, I wore leopard skin shoes. It was a blast. But when Monday morning came, the suit came out and I stuffed my true self back into a starched shirt and tie.
Looking back I realize that the true issue had nothing to do with experience or skill - I had plenty of those things. The real issue was that I had preconceptions of what a CEO was, how a CEO acted and what it meant to hold said title. I was putting on a preconceived personality like I was putting on that stupid suit. It's not that it didn't work - by any typical measure (money, prestigious clients, etc.) I was very successful. The problem was that it wasn't sustainable and it made me miserable. It never occurred to me to just be myself.
September 11, 2001 was the catalyst that put an end to my charade. As billings plunged after the terror attack, it was clear to me that things needed to change. I could have kept my business afloat by shedding staff and waiting out the economic aftermath but instead, I shut the doors and started a journey that would lead me back to Austin, back to being "me".
So who am I? I am a pragmatic marketing and sales expert who is sometimes brash, opinionated and sometimes I forget to shave. I care deeply about my client's success and I am not prone to ass-kissing or coddling these clients. I'm a problem solver obsessed with process. I've lived with Sioux Indians, and flew a Cessna when I was seven. But mostly, I'm still that 29 year old kid who's hair is turning gray, still enjoys cranking up the blues, and I still screw things up. The funny thing is, I'm much happier, I have the same level of success as before (although I measure it differently) and I don't worry about someone seeing through the facade - because there is no facade. At least that's my goal.
The moral of my story is this: be authentic without worrying about what people think. People do business with people who are real. Even if "real" isn't "perfect". I would rather someone thought I was obnoxious than a fake. At least they would be right.
Labels: authenticity, CEO, marketing, sales
posted by Pete Monfre at 10:37 AM
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