I wore them to run shows and walk into rooms where no one expected me. It took joining a new industry to teach me when to take them off. I came up in agencies and live production, carrying other people’s visions. It took years, and asking people to have tea with me, to trade the armor for my own voice.
I was in my early 20s, first week on the job, and I was put on my very first business plane ride, passport in hand, to lead an all-man staging crew of 60 who had staged shows for decades. My job was to run the room. I executed the creative director’s vision, prepped and guided the presenters, called the show, and directed the audiovisual crew. To lead it, I had to earn their confidence fast, and I had to find the nerve to give the calls out loud.
I wore a black suit. Show black. In production, the crew wears black to disappear, so the work is all the audience sees. I did not know it then, but I would spend the next 15 years learning what makes people watch, listen, and feel something.
Agencies and production crews trained me the same way. Start with the problem, the first principle. Then, make people feel something. Make it land. For years my job was to carry someone else’s vision. I was good at it. It was their show and their voice, not mine.
Speed was the easy part. The harder skill was reading people. Listening. Feeling the pulse of the room before I gave it anything. Production taught me to move fast. People taught me to slow down. The black suit became my armor. It gave me the confidence to direct a room or a team where no one expected me. So when I moved into branded merchandise, I packed it and leaned on what I knew.
I watched branded merchandise for years be handed out at events, carried once, and left behind more often than not. I knew the feeling of a gift nobody wanted. A new field with no formal knowledge taught me two things.
First, and it’s taken a while, confidence is not a suit; it had to come off. The moment I stopped performing as an expert and admitted what I was still learning, people trusted me more, not less. That authenticity opened doors the suit never did.
The harder courage was quieter. I had to believe my own experience was the difference and find the nerve to lead with a point of view of my own. Second, I had to lead with curiosity. I do not walk in with an answer. I walk in with questions. When I share an idea, I say “you could,” not “you should.” The first opens a door. The second closes it.
“Have a cup of tea with me.” This is the line people know me by. It sounds small; that’s the whole thing. When a client sits down with me over tea (and maybe their coffee), there is no pitch and no desk between us. I bring the agency brain I never set down, and I ask the questions first. What are we solving? What does the program need to do? What does success look like to you? People come away with pages of notes and a plan. They came for product. They leave with thinking.
Tea is not a prop. It slows the room to the speed of real conversation. It took courage to run a call this way, to trust my questions and my experience as the value, not a catalog. The black suit made me disappear. The cup of tea puts me in the room as myself.
As branded merch sellers, we must be more than order-takers. A client came to me wanting backpacks for daily commuters who move through stations and airports. They asked for a brand colour so bright the bag would stand out in a sea of black. Their request was clear, but it was flawed. A bag so loud as to be spotted across the room is something most professionals will not carry twice. I told them, with reason and research. We moved to a subtler design, and the standout was built into the detail, not the shout. Years later, I’m told it is still a company favorite.
Honesty with a reason turned me from a vendor to a partner. Branded merch is everywhere now, so what I offer is a point of view. I read the market early and flag a trend before a client asks. I take a no without flinching. A ‘No’ is information, not a loss.
Before I show a single item, I ask myself one question. Is it nicer than what the person already has? If the answer is a no, the recipient leaves it behind. A logo does not rescue a weak item. People keep what earns a place in their life. And knowing it's bad for the planet or ‘junk’, they won’t make room for it in their bag. An old lesson from a speechwriter still guides me. If words make a room cry or go quiet, you have them. I look for the feeling first, then the product almost picks itself.
So take off whatever you’re hiding behind to feel like you need it to fit in. I still own a few black suits. I still walk into rooms where no one expects me. The difference is I am no longer hiding behind what shields me. I wear my suits now because they are mine. Underneath them, I run warm and fast. People feel it. I stopped hiding it.
My work starts with a cup of tea and better questions. I slow the pour, and I tell the client the truth. I’ve even spilled it literally in front of important people, and I own the clean-up. We are human; accidents happen, and it’s relatable. This is how an order becomes an idea, and an idea becomes something people keep.
Suzanne Simpson is Director of Strategic Accounts at Gemline, a premium promotional products manufacturer and Certified B Corporation headquartered north of Boston in Lawrence, Massachusetts. She holds a MAS with PPAI. With almost 20 years’ experience in the branded merch marketing channel, she leads strategic accounts, large-volume programs, and global opportunities across corporate gifting, employee engagement, events, and sustainability-focused programs. She came to promo from agency marketing and a 15-year career as an executive producing global live events, communication campaigns, public relations, directing leadership, building brand voice, and employee understanding. If you meet her, she will most always lead with, "Let’s have a tea.” She’s fueled by agency curiosity and a cup of tea.