The Beginning of my Brand Management Career

The Beginning of my Brand Management Career

Less than a year into my career in home appliances, I walked into my boss’ office after lunch, and found him frantically clearing out his office.

This was in the final days of file folders, and they were scattered absolutely everywhere. They poked out from the drawers like rotten teeth, papers foaming at the lip. They blanketed the gritty industrial carpet and spilled out across every desk surface.

Seeing me in the doorway, my boss pushed past toward the exit, pausing to look me in the eyes, his eyes tense. “Listen, you’re going to hear a lot of rumors about this whole thing, but I want you to know they aren’t true,” he said.

“It was just a small expense thing.”

That was the last I saw of him. He sent me a note about six months later, offering to be a reference, but that was it.

My boss had been a fast talker and a good sales guy. He liked the relationship building side of the gig; a turnstile of paid media lunches, executive meetings, and big, billowy ideas that sparkled on a stage.

That left me to manage the details. The cross functional meetings with product, the creative briefs and iterations with the agencies, and the endless project of untangling our massive web of in-genius, second-rate systems and cloud-based solutions coming over from the German team.

And so the space left by my boss wasn’t really a blow to the operations of the brand, but it was rather a blow to the confidence of the brand. The swagger had left the building, and this inquisitive 24-year-old pump-wearing little-engine-that-could was all that remained.

The next eight months as the stand-in Bosch brand manager, I was the queen of fake-it-till-you-make-it. I asked a ton of questions. And unfortunately, as I gradually started to put together a picture of the state of the brand, it wasn’t so great.

While my boss had been off planning our newest late-night cable TV spot, our American sister brand, Thermador, had been undergoing a massive project to reinvigorate the luxury appliance business at point of sale, designing high-touch training experiences, best-in-class materials and a single-minded focus on championing the American brand and reprioritizing itself over the colonizing German one. As long as the dishwashers paid everyone’s salaries, better to let McMansion patriotism shine. It just wasn’t as sexy to sell Bosch. The executive leader of this conquest was Zach, and he also happened to be the head of builder sales and training.

As I started to meet with Zach and inquire where all of the Bosch training and Bosch builder sales focus had gone, he was tight lipped and protective. He had fought hard to bring Thermador back from the brink of disaster and a pip-squeak like me was not going to turn back the clock. After a few civil but contentious meetings, I decided that the best course was avoidance. I had other great relationships throughout the business.

In my boss’ absence, I had gone down to HR pretty quickly and told them I wanted to be considered to take the brand manager role. On the one hand, it was a long shot, since I was at least 10–15 years younger than the other brand managers, but on the other hand, I was doing the job. They nodded dismissively and told me I’d have the opportunity to apply. I never got an interview.

I developed a regular 1:1 with our CEO. In the beginning I’d come in with structured update lists and rattle through, but within months we developed a more convivial rapport, and we began to discuss the business in earnest. For eight long months, I watched eager, monkey suited candidates march into his office and interview for the job I was doing.

Then, one day, something miraculous happened. Mid-way into my 1:1 with the CEO, he said, “Micaela, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking and I’m impressed at the way you’re working on Bosch. I’ve decided to promote you.” I did everything in my power not to leap out of my chair and hug him!

The formal announcement came that afternoon. The entire marketing team was called into a conference room and seated around the big 80’s-leather boardroom table. He started with some introductory remarks on the state of the business and where he saw opportunity. Then he turned to me. “I’d like to congratulate Micaela on her official promotion to Brand Manager,” he paused, “and I’m especially excited to announce that Zach will be taking over as the executive leader of Bosch and Thermador.” My swollen heart dropped in my chest. The good news: once in a lifetime promotion leading brand with (in good years) $20M budget. The bad news: Tight-lipped Bosch anti-Christ was now my boss.

I slept on it, and woke up the next day determined to… last as long as I could. I wasn’t sure Zach liked me, but he could hardly argue with strong performance. For the first few weeks, I felt like the character Wesley in The Princess Bride. He relays a story of being recently captured on the Dread Pirate Robert’s ship. Every night the pirate tells him,

“Good night, Westley. Good work. Sleep well. I’ll most likely kill you in the morning.”

But a strange thing happened, within a matter of months. Similar to how Wesley soon becomes a personal attendant and confidante of Pirate Robert’s, Zach soon began to trust me and I him. It helped that incentives were aligned, he needed Bosch to succeed now. But more importantly, he had somehow decided that I could help him do it.

Zach’s trust was outrageously empowering. He became a true coach to me, teaching me the ropes of the appliance business. He was a true champion for both brands, and inspired the entire company to have the guts to differentiate.

When I eventually gave my notice, I asked him, candidly, if he saw a way I’d grow more with Bosch, and he told me no. I had grown more swiftly than anyone intended and along the way, received the best, most holistic education on brand marketing I could have asked for. But this was a place where people grew roots instead of wings.