Hawaiian shirt day

Bill Lumbergh: "Oh, and remember: next Friday... is Hawaiian shirt day. So, you know, if you want to, go ahead and wear a Hawaiian shirt and jeans." [Office Space]

Training is almost done with. It’s been a really, really long slog. Really long. In fact, I was discussing this with one of the other MBAs going through this experience with me, and we realized that we’d been studying medicine non-stop for the last 60 days. I’m practically ready to open my own practice.

This last week of training has been different, since it has involved attending a real live Regional Sales Meeting. These are events held every few months where the sales force of a large geographic region – Chicago in this case – comes together to hear about the latest updates from management, discuss performance-to-date, and study the latest articles/research that has been published regarding their drugs. But it all starts with Hawaiian Shirt Day.

That the people in Sales are different is by now old news to me. But the way this difference manifests itself in all aspects of a salesperson’s life continues to surprise me. I’ve attended regional meetings before when I was a consultant, and they are usually serious events with some revelry on the side. Sales meetings are revelry with some serious events on the side.

We started with Hawaiian shirts, which we were all asked to wear for the first day of the three-day meeting. This was to get us in the right spirit of accomplishment, since the most successful salespeople (the “All Stars,” as they are called) get to win an all-expense paid weeklong vacation to Hawaii at the end of the year. These All Stars represent the top 10% of the sales force, and attaining this ranking ensures that great stardom will accompany you everywhere you go. The difference in making an All Star versus winning a consolation cash prize for second place is measured in the tenths of a percentage point, which means that things get pretty competitive. It’s an interesting concept, and not one you see repeated too frequently in industry. Sure, there are performance appraisals that lead to higher bonuses, and some sort of chairman’s awards that lead to a desk display piece, but the prizes are generally not the kind that great memories can be made of.

This particular regional meeting opened with goody bags, Beach Boys music, and hula hoop concerts. I didn’t know anyone there other than my fellow trainees and the sales team that I had done some field travel with, but it seemed every other person was best friends with everyone else. There was a lot of hugging, high-fiving, and merriment for the first hour. Although the day eventually progressed to more serious discussions of the state of the business, things quickly got back on track towards the end with music and limbo contests. Yours truly decided to get into the spirit of things, but rapidly realized that a) I’m too tall to limbo, and b) I have zero hip flexibility. How cool would it be if other industries lightened up like this? Can you imagine a regional meeting of strategy consultants partying it up, with the managing partner teaching a group of junior consultants the finer points of hula-hooping? The world would be such a better place.

Although part of my brain is completely fried from all the training that I’ve been attending, the wiser part of me realizes that life is going to be different once out in the field for real (next week), and that I’ll be praying for the next sales event just so that I can wear a Hawaiian shirt again.

Throwdown on Church Street

Saeeda and I have been diligently hunting for houses in the Chicago suburbs, while I've been in Sales training, . Although my Sales rotation will keep me downtown, it is only a matter of time before I am transferred back to HQ, which will then require a horrendous 2 hour commute (one way) from downtown Chicago. So we've been mostly concentrating on looking at places in the northern suburb of Evanston, from where both of our commutes are going to be manageable.

We taken our time, probably more so because of the great buyer's market that we're in right now. Home sellers are receptive to cutting prices, houses are staying on the market for months, and buyer are generally not competing for the same property. I say generally, because this past weekend it became clear to us how quickly things can change.

On Sunday Saeeda and I returned to a new housing development that we had first visited in July, just when we were starting our housing hunt. Located conveniently close to public transportation, this development on Church St. pushes up against the lower-income part of Evanston, and so our concern for this entire time has been whether this is going to be a good investment. This Sunday we wanted to revisit to see how much more construction had taken place, and what units were still available for sale.

The sales office was a zoo. There were prospective buyers everywhere, and the agent working that day was clearly overwhelmed. Luckily, we were one of the first people there, so we were able to corner the agent and ask most of our questions before he got pulled away by another lady. It quickly became clear to us that interest in this development had picked up significantly in the time that we had been exploring our options elsewhere in Chicago, so we decided to put down a reservation on one of the units. The reservation was a refundable amount of money that would simply enable us to spend 10 days to decide whether we wanted to put in a contract. So we pulled the selling agent away as soon as we got the option and told him of our decision. The agent gladly got us the forms, which we filled out and returned to him. At which point he turned a little pale.

Apparently the other lady that he had been attending to had decided to put down a reservation for the same unit. It was amazing how quickly our entire mindset changed. Faced with the prospect of losing a desirable property, we completely abandoned the laissez-faire attitude we'd had for the last three months. Panic set in. The agonizingly long debates that we'd had each night debating the pros and cons of the 30 or so properties we'd seen so far instantly became irrelevant. The list of top properties we had been considering for the last few weeks quickly whittled down to one - Church Street. We had to have this place.

Which is when our real estate agent stepped up her game and earned her keep many times over. Nancy had come recommended to us by a friend of mine, and had been the perfect complement to our easygoing attitude during our entire real estate hunt. Not pushy, always supportive, and a pleasure to be around, Nancy was more a nice older relative than real estate agent. But the moment she realized that there was going to be a rumble, and that some tough negotiating was called for, she transformed before our eyes.

With quiet, commanding authority, Nancy calmly told us to leave the sales center, as things could get ugly. She told us to immediately head home to retrieve our checkbooks - the reservation amount was completely refundable and it would give us an edge against the lady now looking to reserve the same property that we wanted. As I left the sales office, I could clearly hear the other lady begin to complain loudly upon learning that someone else wanted the house that she did.

The drive home to pick up our checkbook was an enlightening one. I realized that this whole time Saeeda and I had been suffering from option paralysis. Just the fact that we could take our time and look at all the houses that we wanted meant that we were stuck trying to figure out exactly what we wanted. Facing a high-pressure situation had quickly whittled down our options and forced us to make a decision, one that we had been agonizing over for months.

It took us 40 min. to return to the sales center, where we were met by Nancy - there was no sign of our competition and the house was ours to reserve. I would find out later that Nancy had negotiated quickly and efficiently to find flaws in the other lady's candidacy, and to instead promote our own. Faced with the option of picking, the builder's agent had decided to go with us. The relief was immense, as was the gratitude I felt for Nancy's ability to negotiate hard. I know I've learned this stuff in class, but theory is one thing and the practical reality of a situation is another completely.

Now begin the 10 days of making sure this is the perfect place for us. I wonder if we're going to wait until day 9 to make that final call...

I begin to understand

Week three of sales training just ended, and all of us sales-reps-to-be head home for a week of regional field travel, where we'll get to visit actual physicians and practice the theory and techniques that we've been learning in class. I'm excited to finally use the Jedi mind tricks, and especially the cool Vulcan death grip, should a physician prove more stubborn than I expect.

Actually, there's been none of that in training at all. And therein lies the dilemma I am now facing. I'm starting to understand what this is all about. I'm starting to see how little I knew about the business of selling pharma, and how hard it really is. I'm starting to appreciate my fellow sales reps, and am beginning to be humbled in their presence - some of these people are tremendously hard workers, and care deeply about improving patient lives, even if it means facing up to an ignorant doctor. And that's the most surprising transformation of all for me. I'd never have used the word "ignorant" with the word "doctor" before, but a big part of the charisma and mythology surrounding physicians is turning to dust right before my eyes.

I'm starting to realize that there are a lot of doctors out there who stopped learning once they left med-school. That there are simply too many demands on a physician's time to keep up with all the research that can direct them to patients in the best manner possible. That even those doctors who got "C" grades in college and barely cleared their board exams truly believe that they know everything, but that I, a mere sales rep, am better informed about the cardiovascular disease state and the best cholesterol treatment algorithms.

I'm also beginning to see that somewhere along the way things went horribly wrong with the US healthcare system, and with the process of selling medicines. Sales techniques got out of hand, doctors began to abuse favors provided by the reps, and the reps began to bend over backward to provide the most unethical of benefits to physicians that were willing to prescribe their products. There is a reason we are hated and treated like dirt. But as with all systems that swing too far in one direction, there is a reversion to the mean. Abbott has a zero-tolerance policy and FDA oversight means that now there is no leeway for reps to do the things they used to be able to do (i.e., take doctors out on all expense paid cruises).

It'll take a while before our reputations are restored. And maybe one day this system of selling is going to have to be done away with completely. But for now this is how things are. And if I want to change any of it in the future, I must spend time in the ditches, learning the ropes.

This sales rotation is going to be more of an eye-opener than I ever thought that it would be.

Sales Training

Ok, yes, so I've been bad about blogging for a while, but it's because I've been wrapped up in the excitement of starting a new job, and making sure I work hard to impress everyone. I must say, though, that at times I feel like I'm back in business school, which is disturbing. Allow me to elaborate.

Given that I've entered Abbott Labs's rotational program for MBA grads, I get to choose where to spend my first year-long rotation. The natural place to start is Sales, where you get to see at the most basic level how a pharma company generates sales for its products. However, this means swallowing a humility pill, and becoming one of the unwashed - a sales rep.

Yes, go ahead, stare - I don't mind. Really. Ok, well, just a little bit. Alright, I want you to stop staring now. Seriously.

I will agree that pharma reps generally generate the same warm fuzzy feeling that do used car salesman. When I told my cousin Ahmer, who is a doctor, what I would be doing for the next year, she flat out refused to believe that I had spent $150,000 on my education to get to this point (she then told me how much she hated sales reps - don't worry Ahmer, we're coming after you). For that matter, my father still doesn't completely know what I do (although he suspects - shhh, don't tell him). My friends know simply that I am in a rotational program. Finally, I myself have had to suppress major doubts before jumping into this situation. But slowly I am beginning to understand.

Part of this enlightenment has come from the last two weeks, where I have been sequestered in a hotel near Chicago, undergoing Sales training and cramming my head full of medical knowledge. Because I will be working with cholesterol medication, I've had to learn the ins and outs of cardiovascular diseases, their causes, their diagnoses, their treatment algorithms, and the competitive landscape. For eight hours a day I join fellow MBA grads to sit in class, listen to lectures, and study. And take exams. Which I have to clear at a 90% or better. I'm allowed to fail a test once, but I have to retake the test the next morning and pass at 90% or better. Or I'm fired.

When was the last time you felt pressure like that? When was the last time YOU scored a 90% on anything? I know mine. I was in 5th grade and I got a 95% on my math test. Heck, even scoring high wouldn't be that big a deal if it wasn't for the fact that my livelihood depended on it. I'm competitive, and studied hard to get an "A" just as much as my fellow student throughout my school years. But at the end of the day I could always go home even if ended up with a "B" grade. Not here buddy. This place isn't for the weak of heart. The pressure, as they say, has been on for two weeks. And I will be the first to admit that I failed my first test, but I will just as quickly add that I recovered, and passed the makeup test with flying colors. I also feel better knowing that fellow students also tripped just as I did - the picture below was surreptitiously captured on my cell phone camera, and shows the review session that was held for all those individuals who failed the first exam. As you can see, I am hardly alone (I have blurred faces to protect privacy, for now - you know who you are and you better play nice.)

Still, suffering through the equivalent of a semester of med school every week would be ok if it weren't for the other individuals in the class with me (in addition to the ten or so MBAs) - the 160 or so sales reps. I am surrounded by happy, energetic people. Type A personalities. Energy levels are so high that were anyone to consume ANY caffeine I'm convinced they would explode. Everyone applauds everyone else all the time. No instructor question ever goes unanswered. I am never left to myself, because someone is always approaching to engage me in a conversation. By the end of the first two weeks I have found myself withdrawing and becoming "the quiet guy." It's crazy. The whole situation is like being in b-school again, but with super-high energy, happy, energetic people who would put the competitive b-school type to shame.

It has, in other words, been a rough start.

Scones with a side of Saudi oil

For the last big outing before they left for Pakistan, Saeeda and I decided to take my parents to high tea at the Peninsula hotel in downtown Chicago. Both Saeeda and I had wanted to sample their afternoon tea, after having done the same at their sister location in Hong Kong. Since my parents are big tea aficionados, we thought this would be a nice experience for everyone.

Although the hotel is tucked away on a side street off Michigan Ave., the interior of the hotel is beautiful, and is befitting of the "Peninsula" brand. Spacious, luxurious, and well appointed, it practically smacks you in the face with it's premiere status as you walk its halls. I found myself thinking if my clothes were expensive enough to be worn inside.

Tea was held in a grand ballroom space and was delicious. The china was fine, the scones perfectly warm, and the teas flavorful. The real fun that I had, however, was listening to conversations around us, one of which caught my attention the moment we sat down.

Soon after we had situated ourselves, several gentlemen in dark suits came and sat down beside us. There were three people of Arab origin, and one white gentleman, all four of whom spent some time exchanging pleasantries. About ten minutes into our tea, two more men joined the four - again, one was Arab, and the other white American. Through the discreet glances that I was able to steal, I could tell that all men were wearing the finest suits possible, and had lavish accessories to go along with them - Rolex watches, silk ties, gold tie-pins - the works. The two American men sat next to each other, and the four Arab men sat across from them.

It was clear to me that this was some sort of business meeting, and that a negotiation was about to take place between the Americans and the Arabs. After all, what better place to conduct business than over tea in a nice hotel, after which all parties can retire to their rooms and fly back to their places of origin the next day? It was the actual scale of the negotiation that blew me away. I soon began to hear snippets of conversation such as:

"We see a great future in a Saudi oil partnership"
"... that much money is going to have a significant impact on our liquidity, not to mention an effect on global markets..." (this from the two American gentlemen)
"... $2 billion ... " (the Arabs)
"... we can go no higher than ... [couldn't hear the rest]" (the Americans)

and so it went. It was really hard for me to concentrate on our own conversation, especially since this was the last time the four of us were going to be dining out together for a long time. The whole time I was thinking about the sheer amount of money that was about to change hands just a few feet from me. Who said that these things happened only on a golf course? Hogwash.

The men were still negotiating when we left, and it was all I could do to prevent myself from asking for their autographs as we walked by. After all, these guys are the real powerbrokers in our world.

It also got me thinking about what location I'd pick for my own business negotiations. I think golf is overrated, and I refuse to play the game. However, I do appreciate the concept of an athletic competition rather than tea for conducting business. So should I ever make it to the point where I need to buy or sell a company or two (or move $2 billion in global markets), I think I will do so by asking the other party out to the basketball court.

We'd start by shooting free throws, which is where I'd gauge their accuracy and general shooting form, from where we'd progress to a general shootaround. That's when I'd casually broach the topic at hand. Serious negotations wouldn't start until a game of 5-on-5. I would let my deputies hash out the details with their counterparts between plays. The heavy negotiating would take place between myself the other lead negotiator. I picture getting the ball in the low post, dribbling twice and saying, "your asking price is much too high; you're going to have to reconsider," and turning around to shoot over my man. Upon scoring (you actually think I'd miss?), I'd run back to my end of the court, giving my adversary time to compose his response. He'd dribble to his right, fake left, and dribble back to his right to drive to the basket for a layup. "This is our final offer," he'd say as he would leave the ground for a layup.

At which point I would jump from behind and swat his shot away. "I think it best that you reconsider," is all I'd say as the ball would fly out of bounds, with one of my deputies running to recollect it.

And so on it would go. So much more fun, no? Besides, it'd mean that I'd only ever negotiate with worthy physical adversaries. And after concluding a tough game of street hoops, THAT'S when we'd head for tea at the Peninsula.

Jack Bauer vs. Jason Bourne

This past weekend I saw the greatest action movie of the summer. The Bourne Ultimatum stars a dark and world-weary Jason Bourne, ready to beat people silly to get answers that will put his demons to rest. Matt Damon is phenomenal as Jason Bourne, and over the course of the three movies he has truly made the role his own. As I left the theater after what felt like a non-stop, two hour adrenaline rush, I started thinking about other uber-spies, and how they stacked up against each other. For whatever reason, the first name that popped into my head was that of 24's Jack Bauer (perhaps because I have come to find him increasingly irritating lately).

The best way to determine the better agent in anything other than a barroom brawl in a closed room is to look at the major weapons in each agent's arsenal: street smarts, tech smarts, and martial arts. I would define street smarts as an awareness of one's environment and the ability to manipulate said environment; tech smarts would be the ability to use advanced technology to one's advantage; and martial arts would be one's proficiency in combat (armed and unarmed).

Street Smarts

While both Bauer and Bourne show amazing street smarts, I feel that Bourne has the upper hand here. Bauer is overly reliant on CTU assistance for many of his infiltrations and enemy confrontations. Be it multiple gigabyte blueprints that are instantly transmitted to his PDA or his near constant voice connection to CTU via an always-charged cell phone, Bauer is constantly supported by CTU. Bourne, on the other hand, has repeatedly proven to adapt and improvise solo in order to make his way out of, or into, any location - be it highly-guarded embassies, covert CIA headquarters, or off-the-grid safe-houses. Bourne comes equipped with an innate sixth sense that lets him adapt spontaneously to whatever environment he finds himself in, whereas Bauer cannot do so without CTU assistance. Advantage Bourne.

Tech Smarts

I will not try to argue the absurdity of the technology at Bauer's disposal. Even if you disregard the fact that all of the US's spy satellites are seemingly at Bauer's disposal whenever he gets bored, even the least tech-savvy has to admit that some of the things on 24 defy common sense. My favorite remains a scene from season 1, where Bauer is looking over Chloe's shoulder while they try to figure out the connection between a plane bombing and a train derailment. Although I'm hazy on the details, I remember Bauer asking Chloe to hack into some airline's database to pull the passenger manifest for the last week (done at the push of a button), and then to hack into the train's logs for the last week (also done at the push of a button). He then tells Chloe to "merge the databases" which, amazingly, Chloe does and ... wait for it ... you actually see the visual representations of these two "databases" merging on screen. There's not enough room on this blog for me to explain how ridiculous this is on multiple levels, but unfortunately, we have to use that which we are given. And unfortunately CTU LA has at its disposal some of the craziest technology in the world.

Bourne, on the other hand, uses little to no technology, and instead gets his information the old fashioned way - surveillance, informants, or good-old physical coercion. Bourne's tech smarts come in the form of knowledge of surveillance and tracking techniques, and how best to defeat these. Case in point: the CIA's best minds spend three movies trying to track him, and Bourne is able to consistently evade his hunters. This then just comes down to what is better - having technology at your disposal, or having the ability to defeat that technology. I'm a technophile, and I have to believe that you can't outrun technology forever, so Advantage Bauer.

Martial Arts

I've been a practitioner of the martial arts for the last 13 years (with stupid b-school getting in the way of things), and although I'm no walking killing machine, I have some knowledge of the combat depicted in 24 and in the Bourne movies. Jack Bauer's single greatest martial art move appears to be his ability to yell at amazingly loud levels whenever he confronts an opponent - "MY NAME IS JACK BAUER. PUT YOUR HANDS UP OR I WILL SHOOT!" This usually turns his opponents into quivering masses of jello. If, however, this does not work, Jack will put someone in a choke hold, strike the side of their neck, or generally do something equally goofy that works every time for him. It doesn't matter whether Jack's opponent is a mall security guard or the Presidential Secret Service detail. They all fall for simple punch-kick routines.

Bourne, on the other hand, kicks major ass using impressive martial arts techniques. You only have to watch him combat the assassins sent to eliminate him to understand how lethal Bourne can be using everyday items (heck, in the second movie he beat a German assassin silly using just a paper magazine). From what 24 provides, I can't believe that a Bauer-Bourne fight would last long at all. Advantage Bourne.

Winner: Jason Bourne

So there you have it. Jason Bourne is the better spy. And I'm glad, because while 24 has devolved into a nuisance that I refuse to watch next season, the Bourne series have spent time working on realism. We see Bourne's vulnerability, we see him get hurt, we feel the pain of every punch that he lands. Bauer just runs around scowling and yelling at people.

By the way, while I was writing this, I realized that there are three "JB" initialled heroes that I know of in the same genre - Jack Bauer, Jason Bourne, and James Bond. Further, a "J" first name appears quite popular: "Jim" Phelps of Mission Impossible, "John" McLane of Die Hard, and "Jack" Ryan of Tom Clancy novels come to mind right away. Why is "JB" so popular? Why is a simple first name starting with "J" a passport to becoming a super-cop? Or am I just a victim of a selection bias?

To be the best of what's left

So summer has been passing by merrily, and I've been doing my fair share of sightseeing and Chicago-appreciating. I've also been making headway in regards to my basketball game. After a sensational outing a few weeks ago, it's been more of a struggle getting accepted by the regular players, and I've had to work hard to not make a complete fool of myself.

So the other day, I showed up at my gym, and started shooting around. Guys filtered in, until eventually we had ten and it was time to pick teams. Two people shot 3-point shots, made them, and became captains responsible for picking teams out of the remaining eight players.

Now, most of us remember the excruciating agony of waiting around to be picked to a team from days gone by, when it was either high-school gym class or the neighborhood kiddie soccer game. In fact, our youth is probably littered with such depressing memories (if yours isn't, then screw you). And no one relishes being put in that same situation again. My strategy is usually to look bored and make no eye contact with the guys picking teams, as if I want to say, "you bore me. I don't really want to play for you anyway. In fact I'm glad I'm being picked last because that'll lull everyone into believing I suck, when actually, you suck."

Here, however, I had no legitimate reason to be picked early. I've already said that everyone I play with is much better than I am. And so it came down to the last three players, with yours truly still available. At this point one of the captains decided to do away with the "I'll-pick-then-you-pick" approach, and said "ok, we'll take Sean and Faisal, and you take Mike." The other captain looked at him with incredulity.

"What? " he said. "Why do you get to pick the best of what's left? Stick to the way we've been picking the teams!"

Ah, music to my ears. I've made it to the point where I'm considered "the best of the rest." Which means there's at least one other person now who is perceived to be a worse player than I am.

Look out baby, 'cuz I'm making progress!