I sat behind my computer, the lights turned down to dim. Exposed beams overhead and dark draperies oddly split the room in half. The basement lab was a place where a lot would go down and I was sure I would learn a lot.
I leaned forward at my desk, attempting occasional eye contact with him. My body language clearly said, Yes, I am here. Notice me. Know I am intently listening to your words.
But his words felt brutal.
“Don’t try to make friends with each other because in this business, everything is a competition.”
I don’t usually like making friends anyway.
“You all may do good work, but in the real world,
there’s one winner.
Only 4 students will receive an A in this class.”
Oh, ok because that’s what I was hoping you would say.
We are taught in advertising that people form an opinion in one tenth of a second and that the average person only scans a message for an eighth of a second.
In that case, I get less than a second to gain a person’s trust and to evoke pleasant feelings in them-
After my first hour in class, my opinion of him was most definitely formed-intelligent, dogged and completely un-relational.
Even the way he carried himself-silent and expressionless, no eye contact, focused and cold with a long indifferent stride-told me he could care less about my existence.
Passing him in the hallway was like passing a cement wall and greeting him was like high-fiving a cement wall-after you’ve done so, you ask yourself why you did it. Yes, he was intimidating and his responses were terse and unpredictable. I was lucky if he spoke five words to me and I began to wonder if my first impression of him would change.
It did, it has. Completely.
I sit behind my computer, the lights turned down to dim. It’s just me. Him and me this time and rows of empty chairs-sitting in silence. And then,
“Mercy, right?” he asks, still staring at the screen before him, “What do you want to do with your life?”
Is he really talking to me? Yes, he must be because I am the only one in the room!
I share, he advices, and later as I hover over my quiz, lingering over each question, my name is murmured from behind. I glance over my shoulder and he quietly waives me to the back.
He tells me it looks as though I am struggling. I say I am.
He tells me not to over think the questions. I’m going to have lots of tests where I’ll have very little time and will need to be able to get something down on the page. I say ok.
He hands me a blank copy of the quiz, tells me to bring it back next class and looks me firmly in the eyes.
“You are smarter than that.” He whispers.
In advertising I have less than a second to create a connection with an audience. With people though, I am reminded that sometimes making a connection requires more time. Be patient, i tell myself and,
give it at least 3.
