This might be my first “first day” in which I wasn’t pouring sweat from my hands. I think the combination of a “been here, done this” attitude and a swagger that stemmed from completion of a successful training program allowed me to relax a little. I pulled up to the stadium at 8 AM after getting lost a few times on the commute (I allowed time for that) and parked near the Revolution administrative offices. I was one of the first ones there. I sat for a second and stared at the gigantic stadium that lay in front of me, awestruck by the massive silence all around it. It was my first time at a stadium without an event going on, and it felt like I’d imagine the Coliseum feels like on an average, touristy day. Gillette Stadium was all very crisp and new, each seat colored in blue, the field a pristine green, and the grey slabs of concrete all serving some purpose. I was at a gargantuan structure of contemporary mankind. It rose out of the earth like some enormous salad bowl. It felt like home.
I went through orientation. I met 3 other orienters who I will never see again in my life. The Revolution are owned by The Kraft Group, which own the Revolution alongside the Patriots, some kind of paper company, an event security company and probably others that I’m not even aware of. The first people I met were destined for other parts of the Kraft’s far-reaching empire, and although we made small talk and embraced company policies and white and black PowerPoints, they won’t be who I work with regularly. It took about 25 stifled yawns, one Nalgene of water, and two pee breaks before orientation was deemed complete and I was finally able to stake my claim to a desk in the Revolution’s sales office.
I had barely shrugged off orientation before I arrived at the front door of my new workplace. To summarize, it was a heavily tinted piece of glass and metal, like a huge pair of sunglasses. Since my grounds pass had yet to be created, I was instructed to press the buzzer to have someone let me in. Five buzzer pushes later, I was stuck outside. Granted, it was 70 and sunny, but it still felt cold to be stranded outside of a door you know you’re supposed to go through. All sorts of thoughts crept into my mind. Should I wander out to midfield? Should I stake out the club seats? Should I just drive home? Eventually, a gentleman opened the pair of sunglasses, I struck up a conversation, and he led me to my new home.
I’m pretty sure people imagine offices in sports stadiums to be equipped with hot tubs, massage tables and loads of athletic tape, but actually they are just normal cubicles. The main difference, of course, is that instead of pictures of random artwork on the walls there are team logos and pictures of past players. After grabbing lunch with my boss and super-boss, I spent the afternoon going over the sales process. It served as a great refresher of what I had been doing for the past two months, with a bunch of added insights. Although my computer never showed up (damn you IT!), I felt comfortable in the environment, and spent the last 30 minutes of the day going from cubicle to cubicle introducing myself, something I would never have done prior to the Minnesota training and this job.
Sales isn’t generally the most respected of occupations, but it DOES require a lack of shyness, and in situations like starting a new job I feel more comfortable than I’ve ever felt before. Most people assume that the best salespeople are the ones who are most naturally outgoing, but I’m starting to think that it’s the ones who are introverted but willing to force themselves to be extraverted that have wind up the most successful. Hopefully, I fall in that category.
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