It was February 2003 when I stepped foot into America, $200. in my pocket, eager to find my place and more importantly, a job.
There was no time for me to acclimatize, be scared, or play the victim.
This had to work.
Back then, social media job sites were still in their infancy — nothing like the behemoths we have today.
Undeterred, I embarked on a mission, traversing the Upper East Side, store front to store front, in search of that elusive opportunity.
The Upper East Side, with its vibrant restaurants, diverse culture, and most importantly, its proximity to the Parkchester bound 6 train, had captured my heart.
I lived in the South Bronx you see and that was a learning curve on its own.
Then, on the 16th day, fate intervened.
I stumbled upon a renowned vacuum company. They were seeking a cold caller to set appointments for their sales team.
Cold calling? Me?
I had never done anything like it before. I came from an island, where I was an Office Manager/Business Communications teacher. What did I know about the art of cold calling?
As it turned out those initial two weeks were far from stellar. I was struggling.
Sensing my struggle, the manager, a genuinely kind soul, called me in one Friday. He handled the conversation with remarkable diplomacy, leaving the door wide open for feedback.
And feedback I gave, bluntly expressing my opinion that their script was utterly crappy!
Here’s the interesting part: I wasn’t the only one struggling. Two other girls shared my plight. So, without a second thought, he made a decision.
He tossed that script aside, quite literally, and started doing things my way.
Little did I know that even back then, the power of #socialselling was alive.
What worked for me? Building relationships. #community I found solace in connecting with retired seniors, as interacting with them reminded me of my beloved grandmother back home. Yes most of the consumers of this brand were seniors.
With my own methods at play, I booked appointment after appointment, achieving results beyond anyone’s expectations. Then I trained those other two girls, sharing my newfound approach.
For the next eight months, that particular location witnessed an unprecedented surge in sales and a high influx of cherry pies being delivered to our front door. Those grandmothers loved to bake.
Immigrants much like myself, were finally able to pay their rent and escape the vicious cycle of living paycheck to paycheck.
As for me, I saw my hours skyrocket from 25 to 50.
From a young age, I had learned to channel all my frustrations, anxieties, and negativity into my work.
Right or wrong, it propelled me forward, moving my needle of progress. I have countless more stories to share from my early days in America and I promise I’ll share them soon. Always remember even in those darkest of times when fear threatens to consume you, embrace your spiciness and forge your own f**king path forward.
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