story was that the stock market was growing at a nice clip and interest rates were up, so people didn’t want reasonable returns with principal protection. From talking to the field every day, I knew that was absolutely, positively not the case.
I explained while it wasn’t my job to handle day-to-day operations, I would be willing to spend a few hours on the phone talking to her advisors so we could pinpoint what needed to be fixed. I explained that the approach was called “one-on-one qualitative research” and was used by many large companies. All Alexandria had to do was to arrange back-to-back telephone appointments with a select number of past and present top advisors.
Her first response was predictable. “I don’t think so. You’ll screw things up. I’ve worked hard to build my field producer relationships.”
I tried to disarm her belligerence. “Alexandria, trust me; I’ve done this kind of thing hundreds of times in my business career. And you’re going to be right there with me.”
She was expressionless. She turned her back to me and stared at the dry board on her wall, covered with names and sales targets. There was dead silence for more than thirty seconds. “Okay,” she said. “Let’s try it. I’ll make the arrangements. When should we do it?”
“You know I’ve been forbidden to keep my schedule by Courtney,” I joked.
“I don’t get it. Courtney’s a twenty-year-old loudmouth who intimidates you. How can you give me such a hard time and let her get away with murder?”
“Courtney’s the smartest person I’ve ever met, and she’s incredibly organized. She gives me the confidence I need to juggle ten balls at a time, and she will always have my back. I’d trust her with my life.”
Alexandria leaned back in her seat. “I’ve never heard a man talk about a woman like that.”
“And for the record,” I said, “I didn’t give you a hard time.”
“Yes, you did.”
“No, I just set up the damn calls.”
As I left her office, I turned one last time. She smiled and mimicked with her lips, “Yes, you did.”
~
I wandered around the office for an hour, talking to people to get a sense of what was going on. My objective was simple: push people to exceed their daily goals, an AFA tradition. My meanderings were also a platform to display my other management talents. I’d make paper airplanes and fly them over people’s heads, play one-on-one basketball with pencils and wastepaper baskets, and crush paper into balls and toss them around. These silly little acts tended to boost morale by showing people it’s okay to lighten up.
When I returned, Courtney was standing in my doorway, hands on hips. The stare was foreboding , “Martin, you’re in deep, deep gaga.” I didn’t have a clue what the problem was.
“Alexandria called. She said you agreed to give her two hours with her producers on Thursday between ten and twelve. First, you don’t have two hours that day. Secondly, isn’t that Joanne and Bill’s job? You know you can’t please everybody all the time. You’re driving me to drink.”
“Let’s go into my office and discuss the matter like adults.”
She shrugged her shoulders, let out a gigantic URRGGH, and followed me in.
I explained calmly and firmly that I didn’t set a time. “I told Alexandria that was for the two of you to decide.”
“Alexandria is such a bitch. She always has to do things her way!”
“Courtney, I love you, but you just can’t say that!” I spent a few minutes explaining that she represented me within the company and had to watch what she said. Then we arrived at the real problem.
“Now answer me this. Why does Ms. Plummet deserve special treatment? I see her production reports every week; the numbers suck!”
“I guess I just feel a little sorry for her,” I responded sheepishly.
“Is that the real reason?” glared Courtney with her right hand on her hip.
~
Our first call was to Alexandria’s highest-grossing advisors, a partnership in Missoula, Montana, run by brothers Michael and Dan Whitman. “These guys love me, plus they have lots of upside.”
Michael and Dan were both in their forties. Over the past thirty years, their dad had built the largest property and casualty agency (house, auto, and fire insurance only) in the Northern Plains states. They had almost 20,000 clients. Dad, at age sixty-five, had decided to wind down, confident that his sons, who had worked in the business for twenty years, had the right experience to take over the practice.
Dan, the more conservative computer nerd, was going to manage day-to-day internal operations. At the same time, the outgoing, gregarious Michael would focus on identifying new ways to leverage the existing client base. Michael had been recruited by Bill Johnson, heard Pete’s pitch, and was assigned to Alexandria. They cross-sold about $10 million in safe money products to existing clients during their first year with AFA. From Alexandria’s perspective, they were more than just friendly people; they represented about $60,000 in annual income. She made sure she maintained a solid personal relationship in addition to advising them on business matters.
I was starting to get the drill with Alexandria. She was worried. They had been through their existing client database and weren't sure what to do next to keep their commission income growing.
Given our early talks, I was amazed at Alexandria’s telephone introduction. “Dan and Michael, I want to introduce the company’s strategic genius, Martin Ruff. You gentlemen will meet him in person at the upcoming conference in Hawaii, but I thought it was important that we get him thinking about taking your business to the next level right now. He’s helped a lot of our advisors in situations like yours. I’ve given him some background, but why don’t you explain your hopes and dreams in your words, and who does what to whom in your organization.”
The two brothers couldn’t have been nicer. In the end, they summed up their observations quite candidly.
“Alexandria is charming and a lot of fun. But when we ask about one of the new programs you guys have introduced to the field, her answer is always the same,” said Dan. “‘Why don’t we let them work the bugs out of the new stuff before we just jump in?’ Then we visit Bridgeport and meet other AFA advisors who tell us they have been using those new programs successfully for six months.”
Despite being pained by the summary, Alexandria remained professional. After Dan and Michael left, she stood at the door to my office. “Okay, I get it. This forty-something babe has to make some adjustments. But honestly, where do I start?”
“How about drinks at Le Périgord?” I was surprised, but not sorry, as the words blurted out of my mouth.
She opened her purse, refreshed her lips with a deep red lipstick, and pushed her long, straight blond hair back from her face. I could feel a sudden rise in my pants. She noticed and smiled. “What time are you thinking?”
11.
The tortured love sonnet, and other bad choices.
As I drove to the Périgord, my phone rang. It was Alexandria. My first thought — she was canceling. “Just wanted to let you know I’ll be a few minutes late. I just got off a long call with one of my producers.”
“Listen, we can do it another time,” I said.
“Not a chance; free drinks are free drinks. With the cost of cabs, a girl’s gotta economize somewhere.”
I loved her dry sense of humor and wondered what my real intention was. A middle-aged, ego-enhancing flirtation? The search for a new friend? A massive case of bad judgment? The desire to sample sex with someone other than Lauren? I concluded it was probably some combination of all four. But even