Reflecting

A year ago tonight I was dining at a five star restaurant in the West Village, tables away from Joe Montegna and Nicolas Cage. But I was pretty much too tired to care.

I was with four other people from work celebrating a highly successful press event that I threw together, almost to my bosses' amazement. When I first told them a month earlier that I wanted to "transform an empty white space," they thought I had lost my mind and questioned their own for hiring me; although, in the end, of course, the space was exactly right.

The doubt my bosses had of me were obvious, and hung over my head for the months of September and October as I worked to put this event together. I've dealt with doubt before, but usually only on behalf of a client; my bosses have always been on my side and backed me up. For the first time in my life, however, my clients were my bosses, and I knew this event would either make or break my position within the company.

It's not a good feeling to be doubted, questioned, and tension rose among both sides as we each fought for control. The night before the event, I had 75 press kits to make, 75 gift bags to be stuffed, and an entire white space to decorate, and knowing this, the bosses pooped out. Now, I would never expect or even ask anyone in a position above me to help with this menial work, but they had offered, promised me even additional support, and all but allowed me to plan on three extra sets of hands to help me the night before.

We had hired a production company to design and implement the bulk of the set, but we took on some of the smaller work ourselves, in the interest of saving money and micromanaging. The smaller work entailed setting a stage with fruits, vegetables, and other natural items that reflected the ingredients in some of our products, as well as shopping for all those items and the containers in which to display them. Shopping had taken up the entire day before the event. So, at 8:00, when the bosses finally came, and then left, we still had the matter of press kits, bags and the stage to deal with.

"We" would be me and Matt, the one neutral person in the company and the one who also has a background in marketing, visual merchandising, and media, and has been my partner in crime on all my New York trips. He and I did the shopping and scouting during the day, and we were both planning on three extra sets of hands that night. When they didn't come, we went into crisis mode and immediately took action. Step 1: Attack the mini bar.

Well, actually, we called room service. We had a big bottle of wine delivered so we could get a buzz on while getting our act together. I started stuffing press kits as Matt stuffed gift bags, all in a hotel room smaller than my living room. Seventy-five shopping bags lined the perimeter of the room, the perimeter of the bed, and nearly the entire bathroom, leaving only enough room on the floor to hop around all the other boxes which were holding the 15 or so products and promotional items that went into the bags. I stuffed press kits perched on the bed, piles of paper all around me: lead release, bios, new product info, FAQ sheets, and business cards, all waiting to be collated and placed neatly in their folder.

After an hour or so, Matt left me to go upstairs to start setting up the ingredients for the morning. I spent maybe another hour collating and stuffing, at which point I went upstairs to check in on the space. Matt, who now had a Jack Daniels in hand, was in full designer mode, styling each ingredient story until it was worthy of a spread in Gourmet, or Martha Stewart Living. I left him to do his thing, and finished the wine - and the gift bag stuffing - myself.

We each went to bed around 3 in the morning, only to wake up at 6 the next day. When the bosses walked in to the newly transformed space, you could see their doubts melt away. When they saw the 75 gift bags bulging with product and press information, guilt washed over their faces instead. I immediately felt them soften toward me, but I was still resentful. When we went out to dinner that night, they admitted their doubts, told me I had proven them wrong. They did that out of kindness and gratitude and wanting to make me feel like part of the team again, but I still needed time to heal. I took solace in the fact that it was a successful event and that my instincts had been right all along. And however many glasses of wine I had with dinner.

After that event, things changed significantly for the better. When the first round of press started rolling in, I was a hero. By March, when the bulk of it came in, I was star. And things are still rolling in, and it has nothing to do with me anymore, but the quality of the products that were launched and the brand behind them; and that, more than anything, makes me feel good about the whole thing.

Even if it took a while to get there, the ride was worth it.