What’s In a Name?

It’s harder and harder to stand out in the professional world. A lot of this has to do with the decline of big entrances.

At their peak, kings and the whole range of other royalty were the fellows who really had this down.

Town criers throughout the kingdom would give out a cry when the royal entourage passed through their town on their way back to the good old castle, and the word went out across the land that the king approached.

When his highness was ready to enter the castle proper he didn’t hop down from the royal carriage with a spring in his step, walk briskly across the drawbridge spanning the moat, and head into the living room to see what was on TV that night.

While this may have been welcome after a long day of traveling across the kingdom, the more common entrance included a fanfare from a reasonably tight group of madrigal singers, a certain amount of flag waving, many sweeping bows and curtsies from these folks that don’t seem to do much else at the castle except these sweeping bows and curtsies, and the castle herald shouting out for all to hear, “The King of Bohemia, Earl of Wallingford, Keeper of the City Walls, and Protector of the Land!”

This puts the wind at this fellow’s back and made him hold his head up high and motivated the people to nod their heads over what a sage and steady king they were lucky to have.

We don’t have this anymore.

Another group that in its prime had the big entrance down was the world of professional wrestling.

If it was ever the case that professional wrestlers entered the arena in a low-key or subdued manner, as though they had something else on their mind, and climbed into the ring in a distracted way, and seeing their opponent across the ring in his corner gave a little wave and said, “Bill, or Mike, or Dan, had no idea it I’d be seeing you tonight! It’s been forever, my friend,” and then this other fellow would say, “Hasn’t it though? What do you say we catch up after this sporting contest and sip a sarsaparilla? I know just the place.” if as I say, this was ever the common practice, it was soon replaced by something with a little more razzmatazz.

The announcer in the ring pulls the microphone to his mouth and says, “ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the world title holder in Gouging, Kneeing and Grinding, world champion of the Eye Poke and Folded Chair Slam, the Merchant of Menace!” Or maybe The Child of Calamity. Or maybe The Sire of Doom. In any event it is a snappy moniker with a little punch to it.

Well, and then the fellow would walk out from the dressing room with perhaps a dozen nice looking girls spreading rose petals before his way, and his own rock quartet following behind him playing his theme song.

He may or may not be wearing a mask, and he may or may not be throwing punches in the air, and he may or may not be throwing viewers along the aisle seats up and over the assembled multitude in the same way these ice skaters throw their partners into the air only in this case, this wrestling fellow I speak of, by contrast, makes no effort to catch these human missiles once he has launched them.

My point is that these people in these other professions knew a thing or two about making an initial impression.

Like them, don’t like them; after these entrances they are exceedingly hard to ignore.

We can learn from them in today’s competitive world.

Say you are attending a conference on recent changes in Generally Accepted Accounting Principles.

It is the type of conference where a number of people projecting your general demeanor enter this room or that room with a notepad under their arm.

It is the type of conference where you have told yourself that you intend to make a number of contacts and maybe scare up a little work.

Most ordinarily at conferences down through the years, you would have solemnly passed your business card over to this or that professional and said, “Joe Bill Carruthers is the name, I’m over a couple blocks east of Main Street, if you ever need anyone on your team to…”

And this is most likely as far as you will get.

It is a sad fact of life that the world is full of Joe Bill Carruthers’s, many of them have offices downtown, and if this other fellow needed anyone of your qualifications he would likely have come looking for you instead of you come looking for him.

How much better it is to pass over a card inscribed as follows:

Joe Bill Caruthers

CPA, MBA

Member in Good Standing, American Society of Accounting Professionals

Destroyer of Worlds

 This is the kind of language that catches the attention. 

All of a sudden you stand out a bit from the crowd.

A moment ago you were one among an undifferentiated many. Now there is only you.

It is not considered good form for this fellow, this second fellow that you handed to the card to, to question whether you really are a bona fide Destroyer of Worlds.

It’s there on your card after all. Would you have put it there if it wasn’t true?

He’d as soon ask to see your diploma for this MBA of yours, something I have never seen anyone do.

Or maybe Destroyer of Worlds just isn’t your thing. Perhaps it seems a little forward to your taste in these matters.

No matter, there are lots of names.

You could become The Mad Accountant, or The Baltimore Bruiser, if you are from that fine city or work on a street of that name.

The point is to come up with something that is catchy and memorable.

Do you wear a mask? Do you enter the big conference room preceded by some nice girls you know strewing rose petals in front of you?

Fine people go back and forth on these questions.

Some say it’s right in keeping with the new brand you’re trying to project, others say it’s just a little much. Your judgment will guide you on these matters.

By the same token, the fellow who slouches his way into the main conference hall, picking his way over knees and elbows to the only empty chair in the place, doesn’t have a chance against the man who comes in whenever he pleases preceded by this brass-oriented six-piece group specializing in jazz-inflected Cuban sambas that you can dance to, sounding the clarion call of his arrival.

It is taken for granted that anyone who travels with his own sextet of brass guys must be a player in the industry and you do well to get him on your organization chart before he gets picked up by one of your competitors.

History has much to teach us in this regard, and we ignore its lessons at our peril.

After all, it worked for these other guys.