Winning new business, partnered with Christ

Throughout the years that I ran a communications business, I pitched new clients regularly. With any enterprise, clients come and go – like rental tenants. But over time, the business base gets built out, and the trajectory does too.

I remember a cold January day over 20 years ago. I’d first stopped at my parents’ house, as Mom was (unbeknownst to us) in her final year, struggling to walk and breathe. Dad had retired, and they needed more visits, good cheer, and extra help.As we had lunch, I described a new fitness chain I’d be meeting with later that day with high hopes of winning the sizable contract.

Mom had a knack for discerning the hidden picture no matter how we tried to gloss over details to avert unsolicited advice. We got good at it, but never good enough. She’d get that unflinching look of incredulity, like we’d lied in Confession and she knew about what.

“What did you say was so different about this fitness outfit?” she asked. I described their progressive health clubs throughout the area and that they offered trendy programs in yoga, Reiki, and harnessing “good” energy. Immediately, I knew she’d oppose it. She stopped chewing and leaned back. That unwelcome look of disapproval settled onto her face.

“C’mon, Mom, stop it,” I said. “This will be great for the business and our family.” Still, the grievous glare. I changed the subject, got up, and started rinsing the dishes.
 
“You really ought to use your talent for Christ,” she said. I muttered an “uh-huh” and said my clients were businesses, not “churchies” — although in recent years I had begun listening to Catholic radio programs in my office and was sensing the dissonance.

Her pointed reaction haunted me as I drove to the meeting site. I brushed it aside in the parking lot, touched up my makeup, and headed into the lobby. Having been referred by a trusted colleague, I was told the project was mine for the taking.
 
The receptionist led me into their impressive conference room, which looked like an equestrian lounge. I unpacked the presentation booklets and tried to appear relaxed in a club chair.

Then the odd smell of cannabis arrived ahead of the Eric Clapton-looking guy in jeans and fetid flannel shirt. He offered me a cigarette. His wife, the company president, shuffled in next wearing clogs. As she sat and greeted me, he stood dazing out the window, exhaling. This was a successful couple, with a dozen new area gyms and a grand estate in our region’s wealthiest town. The hubby had just been riding at the stables that morning.
 
I tried to recalibrate my expectations.

I made the presentation and successfully answered their questions. They said a new Reiki class was beginning in 30 minutes at their closest gym, and I should hurry over and see it. Then I could return and pick up the signed contract.
 
Whoa. Lots to process.
 
As I drove toward the gym, I felt sick. I remembered what I’d learned recently about New Age spirituality’s dangerous link to the occult. With this project, I’d be an accessory to something the Church seriously cautions against. I had to turn it down.
 
The hard part was telling them. When I called, they sounded delighted. I then explained that as a Catholic, I couldn’t take the project, and politely detailed why. They promptly hung up. I wasn’t exactly relieved.
 
Back at my office, I had a message waiting from a Catholic publisher, referred by another colleague. A week later, I won ongoing work with that publisher. They turned out to be my pivotal entrée into Catholic communications. And I’ve never looked back.

CHRISTINE VALENTINE-OWSIK
is Legatus’ communications director.