It was the mid-’90s, and my mother, after seeing me glued to my PC for the hundredth time, said something that changed my life forever:
“You spend so much time in front of that thing, you might as well try to make some money out of it.”
LinkedIn didn’t exist back then, and neither did any other social media as we know it today. But we still had Bulletin Board Systems, or BBSs. In any case, my mom’s words stuck with me. A couple of years later, thanks to a friend whose mom probably told him the same thing, I decided to try and get a job that involved me and a computer. He had already done it and had joined the ranks of Internet Technical Support Agents who helped people connect to the very basic version of the Internet we had back then.
Google wasn’t around yet, and neither was YouTube. Portals were slowly beginning to rise, but not in Argentina. People just used their super-fast 14.4K up to 56K modems to, you know, search for something on Yahoo! or download their email packages (yes, you had to download a whole package before opening them in Outlook or Eudora), then disconnect.
Some would join private chatrooms or BBSs during the evenings and nights, and during the day, it was mostly office people just sending emails.
So, I prepared my impressive two-paragraph résumé (I had no work experience other than walking dogs in my neighborhood) that explained I was basically a self-made nerd (like there’s another kind, ha!) who loved computers and happened to be bilingual. As you did back in the twentieth century, I opened a printed newspaper my mother used to read, went to the Jobs section, and found a couple of places interviewing potential tech support people.
You had to go in person back then. You couldn’t send your résumé in advance or call in. You’d stand in line with your résumé and hope you’d at least be interviewed. You usually never knew how many openings there were, what you needed to get the job, or even if they had already found someone.
I wore the one suit I had, polished my shoes, and took what I guess we’d call my one-page CV with me. I had to ride one train and one bus to get there on time, into a city I didn’t know very well (no suburb kid knows the real city until they ride public transportation on their own). To my surprise, I didn’t just make it on time—I was among the first people in line.
The person who interviewed me was maybe 30 years old, called Liliana. Curly auburn hair, big smile, not very tall. She wore all black and was really friendly. She invited me into the conference room, interviewed me, and asked simple questions—some technical, such as: “Do you understand Windows 3.11?” “Can you set up a modem?” And then some soft-skill ones: “Do you like helping others?” “People might be angry. Can you handle emotions?”
The technical questions helped me—I answered those comfortably. The soft skills ones? Not so much. But I got the job right there and then. To some of you, this might sound impossible, but you could get a job with just one interview back then. I guess in some situations you still can, but it’s no longer the norm in big corporations.
Liliana asked me to start the very next day, and I did. She said the suit wasn’t needed, but I had no other nice clothes, so I still wore it on my first day. As I walked onto the floor and saw all the people talking at once, helping people “connect to the Internet,” I froze. The introvert in me felt that was going to be too much to handle. Everyone sounded so professional, so sure about what they were doing. Some of the guys were standing while they talked, headsets tethered to their phones. Some were smoking (back then you could still smoke in the office), some were drinking coffee, but everyone was on the phone, and all you could hear was buzzing. No one was yelling, but to me, the whole thing was overwhelming.
It must have shown on my face because I suddenly saw Liliana approach, again wearing black on black, curly auburn hair bouncing as she took big steps toward me, with her big smile. She was carrying a big binder. She shook my hand, slapped me lightly on the back, and said, “Come with me.”
She took me to a conference room next to the floor (the area where the actual call center was, where I almost had a panic attack minutes before), offered me some awful coffee, and dropped the binder in front of me. It sounded thicker than it really was. She tapped it with three fingers and told me I had to read through it because it contained the basic SOPs I would need to know by heart to do a good job.
I was still not feeling it, and as she explained what the binder contained, she realized I needed some help. So, she closed the binder and started telling me things about herself, the job, the team, the people I would meet—including my supervisors and colleagues. I can’t quite remember her exact words, but I know it had to do with those things, and it worked. She also told me about lunch breaks and that she didn’t mind that people played Age of Empires when there was no one calling us—and she knew people thought she didn’t know, but that was okay.
I went from scared to shocked, to laughing, to shocked again at laughing in front of the person I just realized was the leader of the whole thing. I wasn’t going to report to her, but to someone under her. And she was telling me she was okay with Age of Empires!
Man, I could not believe it. Then she said the sentence that inspired this whole article. She saw I had finally relaxed and was feeling more comfortable (though honestly, I can’t imagine what I really looked like, still wearing the same suit as the day before and probably pale from almost freaking out) and said something like this:
“There are two things you need to remember: One, call me Lili—no one calls me Liliana. Two, remember to have fun. That’s important. Have fun while you work, and you’ll want to work more.”
Then she left me to it, and I spent probably half that day reading back and forth through that manual before I ventured onto the floor again.
I only stayed at that job for one year, but to this day, I can say I had way more fun there than I did in the next decade. I figured Lili had the same impact on everyone else that she did on me—or most of us anyway—which created a relaxed atmosphere for the most part, even when we had some power-hungry supervisors (you don’t know evil until you work under one of those) who tried to make the job worse than it really was.
Lili didn’t take her position too seriously, and that helped us reach out to her more often. She would have dinner with us when she happened to be on my shift (I worked both evening and graveyard shifts), she would smoke with us, even cheer for one or another if we happened to be playing a quick AOE match.
She was, of course, dead serious when it came to hitting our metrics and had a firm hand to solve issues or situations that required her to jump into solution mode. I think the fact that she led with this idea of having fun helped us understand that there was a time for enjoying
ourselves and a time for respecting the fact that the best was expected from us—get the job done, and then some.
Ever since I worked under Lili, I’ve tried having fun at work and inspiring others to have fun as well. But mostly, it’s her attitude that I try to emulate when I can: I try to never take my position too seriously, stay approachable, and get out of the way when people are having fun—knowing that that is the best fuel we can all hope for, to really enjoy doing the job, whatever the job is.
Alejandro Cabral is a seasoned sales leader and digital transformation strategist with over 25 years of experience across North and South America. Currently serving as District Manager for Digital Sales at Kimberly-Clark Professional, Alejandro specializes in driving growth through innovative sales strategies and empowering teams to achieve their full potential. Beyond his corporate leadership roles at global companies like VMware, BMC Software, Oracle, and Microsoft, Alejandro is also the founder of AC Sales Consulting, where he has helped numerous organizations—from large enterprises to small businesses—navigate change, implement modern sales processes, and develop talent through tailored coaching and training programs.
A passionate advocate for change management and talent development, Alejandro is also a public speaker and mentor, sharing insights on social selling, digital transformation, and leadership. His personal motto: Success can be planned. You can find more of his insights and stories on LinkedIn here.
