It is June, 1981. The first day of my real first job in product management at Gillette. I have just graduated from Northwestern’s Business School. I have reluctantly moved back to Boston. I miss my so-called boyfriend who probably hasn’t noticed yet that I’ve even moved. I am excited, nervous, and at 30, feel old as a newly minted MBA. My first day is not even at Gillette’s offices in the mini-Pru, about two blocks from my apartment in Back Bay. No, my first day is on a plane to New York (alone) to meet my new boss and join in the excitement of a new product launch for Mink Difference Hair Spray. I feel so important. I don’t remember much about the event, but I do remember what I wear ( a red and white silk dress) and I do remember meeting Gail. She is younger than I am by three years, also a graduate of Northwestern, and bubbling with enthusiasm. It is the beginning of a great relationship.
Gail teaches me how to write. I have always considered myself a strong writer, but business writing is not the same as blog-writing. She shows me how to structure written arguments so that the reader is always left nodding his/her head in agreement. What I learn at Gillette I learn largely through Gail. She focuses on the big picture. I remember being grateful for having Gail as my boss. By contrast, M’s first boss at Gillette is a guy who loves the minutia of life. After laboring for weeks on our first Marketing Plan, M is chastised by her boss because the “bullets on page 143 did not line up exactly with the bullets on page 144.” He actually holds the pages up to the light to point out this egregious error.
I love working with Gail. She is smart, supportive, loyal, and a lot of fun. We share stories of life as much as work. And for no reason at all, when I leave Gillette and move to NY in January 1984, we lose touch.
A year or so ago we re-connect via LinkedIn, and then Gail starts reading the blog. I’m not sure what takes so long, but finally, in late December, we decide that since we both live in New York, we really should get together. Gail emails me and says she wants to take me to dinner. She picks one of the premiere French restaurants in New York, La Grenouille. Tonight is our date. And truly, it is one of my best dates ever.
I arrive at the restaurant and Gail is already there. Her effusive personality hasn’t changed. She looks exactly the same (not one wrinkle can be found on her face-she says it’s the light but I don’t think so), and her hair is a glorious blond. She is tall and glamorous and commands attention. I find her in a corner table in this elegant restaurant and already she is on a first name basis with the charming French waiters. It really is exciting to see her after all this time.
Gail orders champagne to start the night, as this really is a celebration. We have so much to say and so much to catch up on. 27 years is a long time. We talk about husbands and kids, illness and health, aging parents, careers, new adventures, our past together, loves and losses, and so much more. A three-hour dinner is not enough time. The amazing food (which will go uncounted as, really, how many points are there in a small starter of – I have no idea what, as it was just put in front of me and I ate it; a potato blini with salmon tartare and caviar; lamb chops with a spinach and nut mini soufflé; a sorbet palate cleanser; small madeleine cookies; a chocolate soufflé with a dollop of whipped cream, and cappuccino? Too many to count and impossible to calculate).
We are still in mid-conversation when the plates have been cleared and it’s time to leave. Gail insists on taking one cab home despite her living south of the restaurant and my living north of it. By the time the cab is in front of my apartment, we are again in the middle of a compelling story. We’ll have to get together again soon, so I can hear how the story ends. And also because it was, just like it’s always been, so nice being with her.
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