Desperately Seeking Boozin'

I like drink. But I don't like work. So it is no surprise that my feelings towards clients drinks (decidedly a blend of the two) are quite mixed.

During my first year of working within the financial sector, I enjoyed drinking with clients; it seemed like a way of simply scoring loads of free drinks. Nice. But, as I soon discovered, there's no such thing as a free liquid lunch. After the first few pints, clients will start to ask seemingly innocuous questions, designed to mine tiny nuggets of information from your brain that you would not soberly divulge. This practice soon drained any possible pleasure from networking or any kind of drinks with clients.

An ex-manager of mine called Kerry (if you're a fan of Scrubs, picture an older and Irish version of the Dr Cox character, to my young and naive JD), taught me several valuable things about networking. I've broken them down into eight points:

One: Know your audience. Kerry used to make it a point of working in one of his favourite jokes early on in the drink sessions:

'Did you hear the one about the dyslexic agnostic insomniac? He lay awake every night, wondering if there is a Dog.'

The beauty of the joke was that not only was it funny, but it revealed a lot by its reception. Intellectual snobbery? Hey- if you can't handle the heat, get out of the corporate hospitality box.

Conversation aside, the audience will also generally dictate how you should behave. Example: Kerry, a colleague and I were all dispatched to a networking function in the City (note the capitalisation for maximum tosserness) one evening, a few years ago. The evening started well: the three of us had sushi and japanese beer before arriving at the venue and mingling with the other invitees. The function in question was a mixture of wine tasting and table quiz, whereby in each round you would be given a wine sample and, following initial guidance from the somellier, would be expected to estimate the wine's age, grape, region and price, amongst other criteria. Then disaster struck: all of the guests were split into teams, separating my colleague and I from Kerry, the only one of the three of us who knew his Chardonnays from his Sauvignon Blancs. So, the colleague and I were woefully unprepared when we ended up on a team with three well-dressed gents, who all reminded me vaguely of ostriches, and who certainly knew their wines. They said stupid things about the wine, such as 'my that's an adventurous taste.' How is it adventurous exactly? Does it go bungee jumping at the weekends?

After several rounds, during which my colleague and I neglected to spit out any of the wines we had sampled, the following exchange actually happened:

Teammate #1: (delicately sampling the wine) Mmmm. Yes. That's rather a spicy one, isn't it? A hint of strawberries. Nigel?
Teammate #2: (delicately sampling the wine) Mmmm. Yes, it's certainly earthy isn't it. Quite creamy as well, in a dry sort of way. What do you think Charles?
Teammate #3: (delicately sampling the wine) Mmmm. Creamy, yes. Not so sure about the strawberries. It's quite elusive....decidedly rural. Chaps, what do you two think?
My colleague: (knocking back the entire glass) WELL FARK ME (hic), I'LL BE A FARKIN MONKEY'S UNCLE IF (hic), IF THAT WINE COSTS ANYTHING OVER A HUNDRED FARKIN NICKER! (hic)

Needless to say, new business calls were not exactly flooding our way the following week.

Two: Go the distance. You should make it a point of being the last man standing, no matter how boring / obnoxious the company. One time for example, I was out with a College bursar:

Client: I must say though, I do rather enjoy a spot of gardening. Do you garden?
Me: (apart from shaving every six days, not really) Er...I dabble.
Client: We have beautiful gardens at the College, you really must see them some day.
Me: Indeed. I must.
Client: Do you know what we have growing on our campus? (dramatic pause) The oldest beech tree in the world.
Me: (feigning interest) Really. (then thinking about it) Hang on: really?? The whole world?
Client: Well...er...I suppose...well, in Europe anyway.
Me: Europe, wow.
Client: Well, ok- in England anyway.
Me: I see.
Client: It really is a great tree, you know. It...it....it behaves like a tree ruddy well ought to.

Ugh, what a horribly imperialistic attitude. I had to take a sup of beer to stop myself from sarcastically agreeing and adding that I hated it when trees behaved like say, toasters, or flamenco dancers.

On another occasion, I was left at the bar past closing time, saddled with some some fat guy from a rival bank. An adversary he may technically be, but it's still important to keep these guys relatively sweet. He was drunkenly rambling about how he loved the Irish, and how his great, great grandmother's aunt's cousin twice removed was once married to someone whose brother's friend's pet hedgehog knew an Irishman. Or something tentative like that. He then preceded to tell me this overly long story about how he went to a pub in a quaint Irish village once, and how he loved the sense of community and camraderie. And how there were some people playing traditional music by the log fire in the corner, and how some of the others were up dancing in typical Ceilidh fashion, fuelled by ale and the clapping of spectators.

It then transpired that this village, this beautiful postcard of Irish hospitality and culture, was actually somewhere just outside Aberdeen.

'But...that's Scotland,' I said puzzledly at the end of the story. 'I'm Irish,' I reminded him.

'Oh,' said the banker, swigging brandy. 'Well...I'd imagine it's pretty much the same.'

True story.

Three: Man up. Stamina is crucial: not only should you try and make it through to the end, you should also be able to arrive into work the next day bright and breezy. I remember struggling into work one morning and sitting, staring blankly at my monitor. 'Snap out of it,' said Kerry sharply. 'If it's sympathy you're looking for, you'll find it somewhere between shite and syphilis in the dictionary. Now get to work.'

On another occasion, I remember myself and a colleague being woefully hungover after a Christmas party, and sitting up in the lunch room, our heads resting on a table each. The sweet coolness of formica has never been so welcomed. Unfortunately, the tranquility was pierced by our manager, a young woman from Waterford, who burst into the lunchroom and shrieked at us: 'Sweet JESUS, I can see the two of you are going to be about as useful as a feckin' pair of chocolate teapots today.'

Four: When unsure, be obscure. I remember being out with a relatively senior manager last year, when he was asked by the client (a finance manager in the education sector) as to what his opinions on the current economic downturn were. In response, the senior manager frowned slightly, steepled his fingers and stared at the table in concentration.

'Hmmmm,' he gravely intoned. 'Personally, I believe it will be interesting to see how it all turns out.'

This, to which the client and his colleagues nodded sagely, in the manner of ancient philosophers consulting the Oracle. All I could think of was 'hey, this guy has actually said nothing! And he's getting paid vast amounts to do it!' I have therefore since learned a multitude of standard responses applicable to questions which you probably should know the answer to, but actually don't. A sample of these follow:

"That's a good question; I am actually intrigued as to what your opinions were." (Follow this up by agreeing with whatever the other person says.)
"Well, that's a contentious issue. I'm still trying to clarify my thoughts on it."
"Frankly, with the ever-changing financial / global / economic / regulatory (delete unnecessary adjective) environment, it's hard to know what to think."
"Well...oh I've just remembered, I need to make a very quick phonecall." (This is the verbal equivalent of pointing one direction, saying 'hey what's that?' then running off in the other.)
"Hmmm, what a bloody good question. Bill is probably better positioned to answer than I. Hey, Bill.." (Then drag the nearby Bill into the conversation and effect a swift exit.)
"To answer your question, I am of the opinion that...hey where did you get that tie? Is that pure silk?" (A caveat: this strategy usually works better with the fairer sex.)
"¡Lo siento! yo no hablo Inglés.Habla usted español?" (NB this generally does not work in a Spanish organisation)

In addition to tricky questions, you may also find yourself from time to time involved a game of quotation one-upmanship, whereby a client will remark to you something they've read recently and expect an equally intelligent riposte. My motto is, simply outdo them in terms of obscurity.

Client: Well I personally believe the Government need a firmer hand to guide them. It's like what Margaret Thatcher said in 1980, I don't mind how much my Ministers talk, so long as they do what I say.
Me: Well....I disagree. I think it's closer in spirit to the words of The Chips, as they famously said in 1957: Heere odda hilldunonne Hiduwippa Tearrr outta numbanumba numbadaba Luurre odna hithumama chigowazzah Hiirre udda hithooupee hithuippa Feure udda Heyynonne hithuipha Daarr onna hilloonumme hithuomma Feure ofthe Heyynomme hinuimma Du-ur udda hauathuama hithua Hiiire odda hithoomumme hithuim.
Client: Hmmm. Touché.

Five: Humour is key. Forget all the business acumen: make them laugh and they'll love you (well okay, maybe you need a smidge of business acumen).

For example, a relationship manager I once knew was at a networking function when an existing client of his (a feisty northern irish businesswoman) approached him. The two had become close friends over the years and were therefore quite informal with each other.

'Look at that,' she said, pointing at his copious belly with a face of mock disgust. 'If that was on a woman, she'd be pregnant!'

'It was,' he countered proudly. 'And she IS!'

Cue lots of drunken cackling, whilst everyone blissfully forgets that they were previously talking about investment property yields.

Six: Pimp yourself out. If a client likes you for a particular reason, don't be afraid to abuse it.

For example, being Irish at a Paddy's Day function in London is generally like Christmas. If you get my meaning. I remember one time when two second-generation Irish clients wanted to move their accounts to me, as a) I was "good craic" and b) "could drink a pint fairly farkin' quickly". Ah the attributes that people value in bankers these days. Goes a long way to explaining the credit crunch. Unfortunately, at this particular time my role did not involve dealing with clients directly, as I had to explain to these guys. About seven or eight times.

Seven: Disrespect your juniors. In Ireland, we have a saying: Mol an Óige agus Tiocfaidh Sí. This roughly translates as: Praise the Youth...And They Become Twats.

It is therefore only in their best interests that I verbally slam any eager newcomers to the corporate world as frequently and as strongly as I can. We've all seen them: they arrive in the office on day one, all ill-fitting suits and never-worn-before shoes, and then stomp about, hoping their can-do attitude is blindingly obvious, completely ignorant of the fact that the marriage between all the theory they learned in college, and the actual practice of business, is destined to end swiftly in a miserable divorce.

The only thing worse than the early office-behaviour of these annoyingly enthusiastic imps, is their behaviour at initial networking functions. They linger in the background like bad smells, flinging business cards at anyone unfortunate enough to glance their direction, and ask carefully rehearsed questions about the economy, which they hope will make them sound intelligent and dynamic (as opposed to actually wanting to know the answer). They also overpopulate their sentences with idioms such as 'singing from the same hymnsheet' and 'making sure we get our ducks in a row'. And they still haven't learned at that stage that no one under the age of thirty-five should use the phrase: 'we'll touch base next week'. I bumped into one such tyke about a year ago:

Him: (thrusting a hand out to shake) Hi, Oliver White: Trainee Solicitor. Fleecem & Leggit LLP.
Me: (irritated, trying to finish my pint) Oh, em..hi. Brendan O'Brendan. I work for....National Bank of China (I didn't really).
Him: (slightly taken aback at my Irish accent and less than Oriental features) Oh...em. The Chinese economy is doing well at the moment, I believe.
Me: No. (shaking head) No, it's not. What a ridiculous notion. You been smoking crack or something?
Him: But..but I read in The Economist that..
Me: Pfffff. The Economist. Don't believe everything The Economist tells ya.
Him: But..(slightly flustered)..but it's a reputable publication....
Me: Listen- don't tell anyone, but the Chinese economy is on its knees. We had a conference call with the National ..er Economic Forum of China this morning. The NEFC.
Him: Oh...I've never heard of the N..F...?
Me: NEFC. Everyone's heard of the NEFC. (shoot him an incredulous glance) Anyway. Turns out from certain geological studies recently carried out that they've found traces of oil in the Now Tzang..er..Pang Chang Province.
Him: Oil?? Really??
Me: Gospel truth. We're gonna see some very interesting things in the Chinese export market in the next twelve months, mark my words.
Him: Extraordinary.
Me: But hey, (gulping the last of my pint) keep it under your hat.
Him: Oh, of course. (looking delighted with himself that he's been apparently clasped to the big, bad corporate bosom, and wondering who he's going to tell about China first) Another drink?
Me: Triple JD and coke. Cheers.

Fair enough: I may be only twenty-nine myself, but I have the hairline and cynicism of any grizzled sixty-year old.

Eight: people are invariably more interested in themselves than they are in you. I was cornered recently by some insurance broker or some sort (I didn't pay much attention in fairness) with braces and unruly eyebrows. The man was clearly dead-set on talking for the next hour, regardless of who was sitting opposite him. Granted, for the first five seconds he skeptically eyed up my stubble, wrist-beads and thumb-ring, and seemed mildly curious as to what organisation, other than Greenpeace, would employ me. But then he went on and on about insurance regulations this and European infrastructure that. I spent most of the time replaying the movie Die Hard in my head. It was only at one stage that I felt a need to contribute to the conversation- it was when I suddenly realised that he was looking straight at me and had paused. I believe his last line was:

'And do you know what the exact insurance requirements are on any of your deals at the moment?'

So, I began to fumble in my brain for an answer. 'Er....insurance requirements you say? Hmmm....well....'

'I'll tell you,' he then said, interrupting my gibbering. 'You don't.'

Ah right, I thought. Rhetorical. I should've known.

He then prattled on for another thirty or so minutes, leaving me to sit back and relax and mentally watch John McClane jump off the roof of Nakatomi Plaza once more.

And so ends Kerry's eight pearls of wisdom. A wise man indeed. I hope you've enjoyed gaining this knowledge as much as I've enjoyed sharing it.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to buy shares in the Chinese oil market.

CB