I work in the retail banking industry. For every quarter of the year, each employee is given quotas to hit; we hit these quotas by opening new checking accounts, having customers apply for home equity loans, etc. I am not a salesperson. I do not get excited when my new quotas are given- I become depressed because I just don’t feel right selling financial services. Plus, I just don’t care.

For some ungodly reason, my manager chose me to attend this sales rally that was meant to “pump up” all employees for the new quarter quotas (which most employees will never make). He said, “Holly, you were chosen because I consider you the most energetic and enthusiastic salesperson in the branch.” I should have told him that even in high school I avoided pep rallies. I would walk with the rest of my class towards the gymnasium, but would make a sudden dash for the doors that led to the parking lot, jump in my car, and head to the mall or home to watch Divorce Court.

As I made my way into the meeting or rally or whatever it was, I heard it. They were playing “Eye of the Tiger.” I walked into the room and immediately jumped into my Denise Austin boxer’s bounce, expecting to beat the hell out of someone, preferably my manager for choosing me to come to this event. No one laughed and I felt incredibly embarrassed. I sat down quietly in this little corner of the room, next to a new employee who looked just as confused as I did. The tables were set up to form a small ring, which we all were facing. I told the new girl, “The managers are going to fight each other to receive the most free giveaways for their branch. They are truly dedicated. See that guy in the corner? Last quarter my manager broke his nose trying to win a box of key chains.” She didn’t get it either and moved to the opposite corner of the room.

“Eye of the Tiger” was still blasting. One guy screamed, “Everybody stand up!” At this moment, every employee stood up and started clapping to the beat. I was dangerously close to peeing my pants. They all looked so ridiculous, standing perfectly erect with their perfectly pressed suits and solemn faces while they clapped to “Eye of the Tiger.” The same guy then screamed “Turn it up!” and everyone was forced to stand a little longer while we clapped to the beat. I imagined myself jumping over the tables and into the ring to show this idiot my right hook. I pictured the idiot screaming “Are you ready to sell some freakin’ loans?!” To which every boring figure in the room would start grunting and banging heads and chests with the people around him. I needed out.

One manager was dancing around while she handed out big Uncle Sam style hats. “You can wear them now, if you like.” I asked her if she was serious and from the nasty look she gave me I could tell that she actually was. Then she passed out Mardi Gras beads that we were to wear for the entire weekend back in the branch. I didn’t need to ask her if she was serious about the beads.

After the music died down, I was thoroughly disappointed. There were no fights, no choreographed dances, no chants, and certainly no booze. The managers talked about our new commission structure while I picked away at my chipping clear nail polish and daydreamed about how I wanted my hair cut. My manager told me that it was my responsibility to “pump up” all of the employees at the branch when I returned. I was still daydreaming about the haircut, wondering how women got their hair to do that wave thing in the 20’s.

I ran into the branch and all the employees asked how the rally went. I told them about “Eye of the Tiger” and gave them the best reenactment of the spectacle. I said, “Are you ready to sell some freakin’ loans?!” I handed out the beads and said “Upper management only wants us to give out the beads if the customers show their breasts.” We all danced around, pretending to be the flashing customers who were just dying to get their hands on some beads. As I laughed I realized how grateful I was to be back with the normal people again: the people who liked to laugh, had a bit of an attitude, and went home every night to think of everything except for work. I vowed never to become one of those stiff-backed, stuffy shirt people who can stand with a straight face while clapping to “Eye of the Tiger.” Never.