June 19, 2008
Over the course of my semi-illustrious career in Hollywood, I’ve broken bread with various producers and executives and lived to tell the tale.
Business lunches are the opposite of relaxing. You’re trying to sell something (in my case, an idea) in a climate where few are buying. More often than not, these humbling encounters feel like an awkward first date. You either hit it off or don’t click at all. You either enjoy a nonstop gab-a-thon or face numerous conversational lulls.
Compelled to fill in these lethal gaps, you may find yourself nervously spouting information you can’t retract. Blurting out random thoughts can be dangerous. Afterwards you’ll feel like a big ol’ chatty whore; an unemployed one, at that.
But don’t worry. I’m here to help ease the pain. Here are a few topics to avoid, no matter how desperate you become to keep the dialogue going:
Personal Habits. This includes any and all issues that might be seen as unappetizing. The “ick” factor must be considered at all times.
Physical ailments: Fight the urge to share any anatomical tidbits, shortcomings, surgical or dental procedures. Your recent colonoscopy is off-limits. So is your root canal. You’ll thank me later.
Pet Peeves. Will your strong aversion to wind chimes make for a fun topic? No, it will not. The human with whom you are dining may be a wind chime devotee. He or she may own an exotic collection from around the world. So zip it on the chimes. And think twice before sharing your latest episode of road rage or parking spot revenge. We’re looking at a meal-breaker. How you punctured the tires of the jerk that cut in front of you at the mall may peg you as a tad psychotic and unhirable. Trust me on this. The less said the better.
It goes without saying that drinking yourself into a stupor could also be misconstrued as unprofessional. Show some restraint, people.
Now that we’ve addressed these pitfalls, we can move on to the all-important menu. You must order correctly at your business lunch, or all is doomed. I learned this lesson when I made an ill-advised selection, creating discomfort not only for myself, but the executive across the table.
The menu became a multiple choice test I was destined to fail. I ruled out salad, thinking a wad of spinach in my teeth would be bad form. I ruled out undainty sandwiches and slurp-worthy pasta. What to order came back “none of the above.” I was on the verge of panic. I wanted to appear decisive when I couldn’t make up my mind.
Finally I asked myself, what food goes best with long pauses and blank stares? I settled on scallops. Scallops are easily chewed and lightly colored, should they lodge into my receding gums and stay the night.
Feigning confidence, I told the waiter, “I’ll have the scallop appetizer as my entree.” I thought I was so clever. I’d found a way to get some extra scallops without sounding too piggy.
Sadly, I was mistaken. The waiter failed to understand the subtext of my request. You must be clear in this town and state your needs. My plate arrived with three of the tiniest scallops I have ever encountered. Each scallop rested on its own lettuce leaf, daring me to gobble it down in one bite.
Meanwhile, my lunch mate’s plate contained a thick juicy steak that would take time to consume. How was I going to make my scallops last for an entire meal?
I chewed slowly. I took cute little nibbles. I did my best to stretch my three- scallop snack into a three-course feast. My plate emptied in record time.
“Don’t you want anything else?” my colleague asked, concerned for my well-being. The focus was now on my potential to faint from malnourishment, as opposed to my bounty of ideas.
“Here, take my baked potato,” he insisted. “Want some steak?”
Did I mention we were in a steakhouse? I don’t eat steak. Not that I wanted him to know that. I’d already made enough trouble for one meal.
“I’d love some,” I lied. I didn’t want to appear ungrateful. Half of his potato landed on my plate, too. Something had gone seriously awry. This business lunch had taken a paternal turn. He was taking care of me, instead of hiring me. Soon he was ordering us cheesecake and apple pie a la mode. I’d forgotten what I was there to pitch. I was too distracted by the graham cracker crust, the heavenly scent of cinnamon, the freshest ice cream ever. I ate so much I could barely fit in the car.
I hope you’ll learn from my mistakes. At your next business lunch, order something that will last and won’t attract attention. And stick to the topic at hand. Bring up the bunions you just had removed and you’ll never get back on track. I’m living proof of that.
Comments
golfergirl (anonymous) says...
I had a bad experience at a lunch meeting involving spinach salad --went to the bathroom after the meeting was over and saw that a piece of spinach was covering one of my lower front teeth. I looked toothless! Never again.
June 21, 2008 at 4:46 p.m. ( permalink | suggest removal )
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