FROM ZERO TO CEO

The intern who faked her way to the top

“‘I’d just like to introduce myself really,’ I tell the CEO”

Sorry to interrupt,” I croak. Fifteen pairs of eyes roll slowly towards me like marbles, and our chief sub-editor glances up from the document she was, until now, reading aloud. We’re at the weekly production meeting where editors, heads of department and the rest of the team discuss deadlines. Interns don’t interrupt these meetings, unless it’s completely necessary. Clearing my throat, I can’t help but think that what I’m about to say doesn’t quite qualify.

“I’ve got quite a lot on my schedule today…” My line managers shoot me baffled looks, but I persevere.“So I think I’ll pass on the rest of this meeting?” The question mark in my voice is rhetorical – I’m already on my way out of the door, strutting through a cloud of gasps and nervous giggles, the meeting’s agenda folded under my arm.

Surprisingly, I’m not on some passiveaggressive mission to be reunited with my P45 – the opposite, in fact. I’m six months into the year-long internship of my dreams, and frankly I’m worried I’ve become part of the furniture – not in a good way. I was always taught politeness, competence and a “can-do attitude” were the magic carpet to professional success. However, I’ve learned over the past six months that grinning meekly and memorising tea rounds might win me a positive reference when my contract is up, but it’s unlikely to help me win the golden egg of any internship: side-stepping into a permanent position.

GETTING NOTICED

So, armed with my laptop and a dose of professional panic, I’ve taken to the internet to pose the question: what exactly do you have to do to get noticed around here? And, based on the career wisdom of CEO hotshots and Silicon Valley giants, I’ve created a week-long experiment with the ultimate goal to land myself on the big boss’s radar (working title: Operation BNITO – Big Name In The Office).

My diva moment in this morning’s meeting? That was inspired by Tesla CEO Elon Musk’s advice to employees to walk out of any meeting they don’t feel they’re contributing enough to, or where they feel that their time is better spent elsewhere. Regrettably, the time I save ending my meeting prematurely is negligible compared to the minutes freaking out at my desk afterwards.

I also shake up my work clothes. On a normal day, I’d follow the “dress for the job you want” rule, opting for pencil skirts, blazers and power eyeliner. But that all changes when I read an interview with Apple founder Steve Jobs, who famously rocked a black turtleneck, wire-rimmed glasses, jeans and dad-trainers every day. He believed that humans have a limited supply of decision-making energy in a day, and that spending it on picking out clothes is a waste. It hits me like a lightning bolt: maybe I shouldn’t spend my life dressing for the jobs I want. Maybe I should be dressing as The Jobs himself.

It takes me 10 minutes to get ready – pulling on my turtleneck and scraping back my hair – and as I spend the remaining 50 writing my to-do list, meditating and actually eating breakfast instead of tornadoing a banana, I realise

my Steve persona is ideal preparation for a series of exhausting power moves.

I have, however, been dreading the commute. I’m a young professional with no time for dating – how am I supposed to manufacture a train-journey meet-cute dressed like a dad from 1987? But something strange happens. I spend my journeys locking eyes with ambitious-looking hipsters everywhere I look. Usually, I’m lucky if I get a second glance. Has my Steve Jobs ensemble admitted me to some inner sanctum of young ambition? More importantly, does this count as networking?

OPENING UP

Another rule, inspired by Twitter CEO Jack Dorsey, is to say hello – to everybody. My hope is that my perceived popularity gives the big bosses no choice but to notice me. No more Ms Nice Intern – time to greet the living hell out of this company. “GOOD MORNING!” I bellow across the hushed lobby to our receptionists. “HI there!” I beam to an unenthused IT man. “HEL-” I semi-say to the editor-in-chief of another magazine, before realising the second syllable isn’t welcomed. By the time I’ve reached my desk, I’ve accosted at least 25 people, and less than a handful have acknowledged me back. I begin to suspect the energy I’m saving by dressing as Steve Jobs is being rapidly expended by this near-constant rejection.

At my desk, a colleague compliments my “off-duty chic” look, and I notice more than a couple of people enviously eyeing up my wire frames. By Wednesday, the Steve Jobs effect is rippling through the office, with colleagues turning up turtlenecked left, right and centre. Is Operation BNITO proving infectious? Am I a bona-fide influencer?

Next, I take the advice of Richard Branson who is evangelical about the benefits of saying “yes” to everything, because it opens up future opportunities. I introduce this challenge midweek, hoping it’ll help me avoid total burnout, but as I RSVP to every optional training session, opening and party invitation I see, it transpires that this approach is actually a productivity death wish. (Cautionary advice: don’t include saying “yes” to every drink you’re offered at networking events unless you’re prepared for the shame of remembering yourself, say, gatecrashing a photo opportunity with Professor Green and waking up face down in a falafel wrap.) On the plus side, all that optional training I attend leaves me brimming with career-advice soundbites, which I dispense in earshot of my bosses.

TAKING IT TO THE TOP

With time running out, I turn things up a notch – several, actually. Inspired by the words of billionaire tech exec Sheryl Sandberg, I “lean in” and go straight to the top. Sandberg advises that if nobody is offering you a seat at the table, you should march right up and take a seat for yourself. In my office, this means befriending our CEO’s executive assistant and booking myself in for a meeting with the man himself. He’s seriously busy, and in charge of 23 different brands, so I prepare myself by writing a list of objectives (including lessthan-subtle hints about future opportunities), researching his passions for small-talk purposes (turns out he’s a marathon runner), and trying an assortment of power poses (luckily only one colleague joins me in the lift while I limber around like the love child of an Apprentice candidate and an ostrich).

“Right then, Kate,” James chimes when I reach his desk, jumping to his feet. He remembered my name? “What can we do for you?” As he shakes my hand, I suddenly feel mortified. “I’d just like to introduce myself really…” I trail off and he pulls back his hand, a serious look crossing his face. It’s all over. He’s making a break for it from the overzealous intern with the stale turtleneck.

But then something magical happens. I realise he’s turning to open the door to his meeting room. I take a seat and spend the next 30 minutes grilling him. He accepts the homemade business card I’ve given him offering my services as an “Intern Perspectives Consultant” with a generous smile. He shares a checklist of career tips. He also encourages me to continue greeting everyone I see in the building, which I’m considerably less enthusiastic about.

I leave giddy, with an important lesson learned. The trick to getting noticed at work isn’t power moves, popularity contests or the clothes you choose. It’s that sometimes the table you should be chasing for a seat at isn’t the chaotic boardroom table being fought over. It’s the small desk and quiet chat with a boss who, one day, could change your life.

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