The Zebra Scenario

It was in the summer of 1995 that I joined a global computing company as a Sales Executive. I was a warm July as I recall. It had taken three painstaking interviews to finally be told I had been successful. Nothing new there right. Many people go through the same process for any and every job they apply for.

As I settled in, finding my bearings so to speak whilst linking up with my team in the Birmingham office, I learned that in a few weeks’ time, the company was due to hold it’s annual sales 'kick off' meeting at a plush hotel in London. Although my main office location would be Birmingham, I would travel in from my current home town of Nottingham (the home of Robin Hood if you are wondering where that is). Not knowing many of my team that well, and mainly training initially for those first few weeks, I had some nerves about attending this large event, but not many. The sales people I did get to know told me how great this event usually is. Some of the stories of what happened in previous years, good, bad, naughty or indifferent. They also explained that it was attended by over five hundred people from across the UK and a few from Europe.

I did have some experience of these type of events, as in my previous role (at one of the largest telecoms companies of its type globally), so these types of gathering were the 'norm'.

Prior to reaching the hotel, I arranged with some of my team to meet up at this hotel for the requisite 'pre-dinner' drinks and schmoosing.

The bedrooms were as expected. Thick pile carpet, gold taps in the wet room, sumptuous bed linen and modern a television dressed the room suitably. Yet it was another luxury hotel, like any other that I had already had the pleasure of staying in. Once ready for the 7pm pre-dinner drinks time slot, I ventured downstairs at around 7:15. Somewhere in between I thought, not too early and keen, yet not too late either. Plus, I had to wait for my team that consisted of three other men and three women. One of the women was my and our team’s immediate manager. She was strict, but fair and a riot at these types of events (that’s another story I can't tell!).

Whilst waiting for my team at the bar, I ordered a drink (which was free – yes free bar all night! – those were the days), and hoped maybe I looked like the Denzel Washington version of 007, in my tuxedo and bow tie outfit.

Stood amongst the raucous, expectant, buoyant atmosphere, I must admit I did drink some of that in, soaking up the glittering occasion, maybe like an Oscar night. Women, dressed in long expensive gowns. Hair and make-up, skilfully applied (mostly!). The senior management team (all men of course) oozing pride and some gloating, based on the over-achievement of exceeding their sales targets. The salesmen and women proving it, by adorning themselves with sublime jewellery and swiss watches.

Whilst waiting at the bar and looking out among the many hundreds that had gathered, I could not see any faces I recognised. Some of the initial nerves I had been holding off started to return. Then the evening entered a strange phase, yet not for myself. As I observed the ‘film stars’ entering the bar area I received my due, French Brandy, laced with a splash of coke from the waist coated bartender. Standing beside me, although I hadn’t noticed immediately was a young sales executive who looked about twelve years old. Smartly dressed, gelled blonde hair, Tom Cruise smile and about same height as I, at around six feet tall.

We said hello and got talking about the event and what he thought might happen. It was his second time around and he was looking forward to it. Then he said something to me, that to this day – twenty-six years later still sticks with me, hence me writing this. It was something that didn’t phase me, but it seemed to faze him, in a weird reversal of roles. The conversation went something like this; (no real names so I’ll use the actor’s names);

Cruise to Denzel; “Do you know something I’ve just noticed”, as Cruise sips his Bacardi and coke. I could see Cruise looking around the now packed bar reception area.

Denzel to Cruise; “What’s that?”.

Cruise to Denzel; “Do you realise that you’re the only black guy in here”.

Denzel to Cruise; “Yeah, so what?” I replied nonchalantly.

Cruise looked surprised at my calm matter-of-fact response. He genuinely looked worried for me. Literally like a fish out of water.

Cruise to Denzel; “Aren’t you worried or you know, er, doesn’t it feel strange to be the only one like you, if you know what I mean”, Cruise struggled to get the right words out, in any sensible order.

Denzel to Cruise; “No not worried at all. What you have to remember Cruise, is that I already know that I’m going to be the only ‘elephant’ in a room full of cats. I’m always going to stand out. Because I know this, because I grew up always having that as my platform, mentally, I brush this off and continue just like you and everyone else”.

Cruise to Denzel: “Wow, how do you cope with that everyday?”

Denzel to Cruise: “Look at the maths Cruise. Maybe 1.5 to 2 million black people in the country. Maybe half that at working age. Another half of those or more will be living in major cities, London, Birmingham, Manchester, Leeds and so on. How many of those work in specific sectors of society? And then break down, how many might want a career in sales, in IT or telecoms. Then the companies in those industries, how many apply for jobs to get them, maybe? By the time to skittle your way through it, you get to little old me. It’s the numbers, plus a few other things.”

Cruise accepted my pitch about the numbers as it made sense once he’d thought it through.

His question sparked off something I’d actually never thought about. I didn’t see myself as the only black guy, I was just another salesman. Maybe that was because I was so comfortable in my own skin and didn’t see colour as a potential barrier to stop me getting on. Maybe that was naïve of me, yet his innocent question, his genuine concern was to try and help me somehow. The cat trying to play with the elephant, to make him feel like everybody else, regardless of what he looked like, colour or size or anything else.

We both enjoyed the evening with plenty of those free drinks. The company served me very well as I thrived for eight years successfully performing three different roles.