The Kissing Conference

By Ellie Barnes

I boarded a plane for Miami with all the confidence of a young (and naïve) salesperson ready and eager to pitch my company’s commodities expertise to Latin American clients at a conference in Miami. In my short eight months of experience, I thought I had met with enough clients and observed enough interaction to be able to handle what lay ahead. I had envisioned myself effortlessly wining and dining the clients, while simultaneously charming the senior management who had come to Miami from trading floors in Latin America and all over the globe.

Before leaving New York, I had gone over my products, practiced my pitch, and even I had picked my outfits weeks in advance. However, there was no way I could’ve prepared myself for the scene that was unfolded before my eyes as I descended into the hotel lobby. After one sweep of the crowd, I realized I was not only the youngest, the most junior, and one of the only non-Spanish speaking, I was also the only woman among at least forty Latin men. I took a deep breath and set off to wow them, but panic set in when the introductions began.

Following my boss, who had beaten me downstairs for the cocktail hour, I automatically stuck my hand out to shake hands and introduce myself to the closest cluster of well-tailored and impeccably groomed men. This gesture, which in my limited experience was standard business protocol, was not met with hands as it was for my boss, but with the lean-in for cheek kiss. One would think that I could meet and return the kiss but, when faced with the fluster of awkward body language, my composure began to melt like ice cream in the Miami heat.

As I made my way to the next lucky customer, I realized that my hesitance to go in for the kiss had also affected the clients who consequently did the ‘should I or shouldn’t I?’ move, trying to gauge whether or not I was going for the hand or the face. I can only liken this repeated and flagrant awkwardness to when you are walking directly into someone and go left-right-left-right-left in unison before someone finally takes charge and pushes to one side.

Now don’t get me wrong – despite being a blonde-haired, blue-eyed girl from the Southwest, I have traveled and fumbled my way through multiple and varied cultural blunders with people from around the world. Still, I’d never considered the choreography of body language, let alone that it could possibly be necessary for women in business to use a different one. After a few more inept Hola/Hello Kiss/Shake interactions, I promptly ordered a cocktail and waited for the call to dinner.

When it finally came, I, thankful for my cue to exit, headed for the door but was once again caught off guard by a flurry of suits rushing to open the door for me. And once again while organizing transportation to dinner, it was dramatically argued about and insisted upon that I sit shotgun in tiny sports car convertible, while my male counterparts sat three in the backseat squished like small children on a cross-country roadtrip.

Upon meeting the new potential clients for dinner, one particularly outspoken trader shouted, “I get to sit next to the girl!” While some could interpret this as entirely offensive, I, having survived the initial awkwardness from the introduction gaffes and bolstered by a couple of glasses of wine, chose to view it as somewhat flattering. As the courses were served, I sat through many macho, and what can only be politely described as “non work-appropriate”, anecdotes that ended with an apology directed at me once the storyteller remembered my presence. Although this blatantly flagged me as the outsider, it also began to work in my favor. I was notably different in every single possible way, but as the night wore on I eased my way into my special treatment and decided to embrace it rather than resist. After all, while they were rushing to open doors and teaching me to dance the samba, I found ample time to discuss business and regained my composure in time to kiss them all goodbye.