Monday, August 24, 2009


I mentioned that the cause of my being bound in New Jersey for a few weeks was training for a new job. In the pharma hierarchy the new job was a promotion. According to my business card, I'm now a Specialty Sales Professional, whereas before I was just a Sales Professional. That extra word may not seem like much of a difference, but it does impact my day in that the sales dialogues I initiate should be more clinically focused and I no longer call on Primary Care offices, instead spending my time calling solely on specialized practitioners.

Why I am I telling you this? Why bring up the promotion? Certainly not to toot my own horn--the amount of work that came with this shift means I have nothing else in my life; the job is more complicated than my last and I feel like I'm drowning at times (in fairness to me, the first 9 months or so of a new drug job are always intense to the point of self-abnegation). I'm telling you about my transition to Specialty because though being offered the job was an incredibly flattering vote of confidence in my intellect and ability to sell, it also means I'm ugly.

Oh, okay--not ugly, but certainly a few rungs down on the Looks Ladder.

Though I have some very, very good-looking Specialty counterparts, I've learned that for the most part the Specialty sales reps are not as attractive as their Primary Care counterparts. Just recently, at this out-of-town training, I noted that it was a piece of cake to glance at a group of conversing sales reps and determine whether they were there to be trained as Specialty reps or Primary Care professionals.

The Primary Care reps are more hip in their work uniforms, more svelte, often blond, and blessed with better faces. In Specialty--and again, I must stress that some of my cohorts in this bit of the business are breathtakingly attractive--we are older, more dowdy, and, essentially, less hot. So although we are supposedly endowed with more prestige and prettier paychecks our view from the mirror isn't as pleasurable.

I'm not saying that we Specialty reps are especially heinous, just that the Primary Care reps are a whole lot better looking and more fashionable. They make me feel old and frumpy.

Hip Hip Hooray for my brains and guts. Pity party for the truth of my outer-self.


Jessica said...

couldn't it be the case that you are one of the specialty sales reps that ARE attractive? though we've never met, i have significant doubts that you are old and frumpy. especially not old, since i think we're the same age.

Jessica said...

should that be IS attractive? hmmm.

rabidrunner said...

I've always felt that what you can do always outshines how you look. Irregardless, I think you're adorable.

rabidrunner said...

Oh! And speaking of "the do" outshining "the look", what about your clever title!? That title rocked. Hello Specialty Bland!? (Or maybe you need to be a recovery coffee addict to get it fully.) I've got some serious envy issues with your title creativity. Well. Actually, I have envy issues over your total creativity, but I'm especially fond of your titles.

whitneyingram said...

It's whats on the inside that counts.

That's a total crock.

Megan said...

Jessica, if we're the same age it's time I break the bad news: we're old. We're not cool anymore. We have no hope of hip. We're dowdy and sad. Sorry to be the one to tell you.

Rabid, sweetie, your compliments always make me blush. And, well, I guess I got lucky with that title 'cause I never thought of "Bland" for "Blend." I need the recovering coffee fiends to help me see my own genius.

And Whit, dear, what's in this crock you refer to?

Jessica said...

megan, that made me giggle out loud in my quiet apartment. oddly though, this was not the first time the news has been broken that i'm not cool. younger siblings (and the kids i work with) verified my un-coolness long ago. also, i think i was mistaken in saying we are the same age. i read an old post of yours the other day and it appears that i may be 2-ish years older than you. crap, i'm old....