Thursday
Now: Job #2
“It’s just a job. Grass grows, birds fly, waves pound the sand. I beat people up.”
Muhammad Ali
March, 2005: I've updated here a chapter from my first book in 2002 about work because frankly, I am concerned about the health of many of my fellow mid-50's media and advertising veterans. This industry, like many, has been rocked in recent years by technology and events like September 11. Regrettably, many colleagues in the industry have found themselves squeezed out. I hear from these chaps often, and too often they seem sadly paralyzed about what's next. And that attitude has to be eating away at their immune systems during a critical life stage.
I write the following not to gloat over my own luck in carrying on my emerging media career following nearly a year of not working in 2001 and 2002, but instead to jump ahead to the quote that ends this journal by author Ben Stein. The quote says that only through your own exhertions can you find the lucky foresight, or my favorite term in this journal, the rewarding beams, to get back to work.
In my case, during the fall of 2001 I’d felt like Father McKinny from the Beatles’ song Eleanor Rigby since all my consulting projects with major media companies dissolved after September 11: “Sitting alone writing a sermon that no one will hear.” As a solo emerging media business development consultant, no one needed my services that fall. Up until then, I had been lucky in business, first as a partner in an agency that we sold to a London firm, then as co-founder of what we grew to be the fourth-largest Internet professional services firm before selling it to a global ad agency. I had then set out on my own for a few years to help start-up companies and to consult very large media companies on emerging Internet opportunities.
But then, after September 11, December 19th dropped its unwelcome gift on me, and my job post-holidays became a quest for survival.
A call from New York came in March, 2002, shortly before a family trip to Spain to take our minds off of my impending surgery. The call was fron Lindsay Davidson, the former publisher of Mother Jones magazine and now head of Prime Source Agency. She started the call by saying something like: "I’m recruiting for a job there in the Twin Cities, but I can’t mention the company name."
I believe my reply went along these lines: “Well Lindsay, I’m flattered, but to be truthful, I haven’t worked for a corporation in a decade and that was a marketing firm where I was a partner. I think I’ve done a good job of working myself into unemployability in the corporate world, plus I have a health issue that will require all my time and attention for at least the next two months, if not longer.”
Lindsay replied: “Well, OK, but let me at least tell you about it.” I cut her short as she described it: “Damn it. That’s my dream job.”
Lindsay then stepped forward and offered to leave the next tasks in her hands, even the crafting of a resume which I hadn’t done in maybe 20 years. She promised to check back before surgery and after to see if I was interested and if the company was interested. I got her to tell me the company was Best Buy, the major retailer of consumer electronics and computers
So, nine days after surgery, with catheter bag well concealed in my baggiest pants, I interviewed with a company vice president. The challenge fit my past pursuits: to establish a new business with emerging media products to help consumers learn more about digital products and lifestyle activities.
Lindsay called four hours later with the job offer. As much as I wanted to accept on the spot I told her that my doctors predicted a six to nine week recovery, and I was only in week two. But I promised to consider it seriously and talk to her every few days. She said that if I would accept conditionally, the company would hold the offer. So I did. That meant I had to take the pre-hiring drug test. And I still chuckle about disappearing behind a curtain and filling a little cup with urine from my catheter bag.
After about three weeks, I was feeling ready to tackle the challenging position, especially because it would be the first time in my career of inventing new forms of media communications where I had both a budget and a built-in audience, the retailer’s customers.
What is the lesson in this story for my sad friends? To me it is that my phone call seemingly coming out-of-the-blue did not really emanate from thin air. It came during a time when I was intensely focused on resetting my mind and spirit to bolster the body, and was not thinking outside my center about work. I tell my temporarily unemployed friends to try taking a couple of months off of consciously seeking work, and instead seek better health. And damn if I haven't seen bolts of opportunity come the way of a couple of guys. ¶ 1:54 PM
Muhammad Ali
March, 2005: I've updated here a chapter from my first book in 2002 about work because frankly, I am concerned about the health of many of my fellow mid-50's media and advertising veterans. This industry, like many, has been rocked in recent years by technology and events like September 11. Regrettably, many colleagues in the industry have found themselves squeezed out. I hear from these chaps often, and too often they seem sadly paralyzed about what's next. And that attitude has to be eating away at their immune systems during a critical life stage.
I write the following not to gloat over my own luck in carrying on my emerging media career following nearly a year of not working in 2001 and 2002, but instead to jump ahead to the quote that ends this journal by author Ben Stein. The quote says that only through your own exhertions can you find the lucky foresight, or my favorite term in this journal, the rewarding beams, to get back to work.
In my case, during the fall of 2001 I’d felt like Father McKinny from the Beatles’ song Eleanor Rigby since all my consulting projects with major media companies dissolved after September 11: “Sitting alone writing a sermon that no one will hear.” As a solo emerging media business development consultant, no one needed my services that fall. Up until then, I had been lucky in business, first as a partner in an agency that we sold to a London firm, then as co-founder of what we grew to be the fourth-largest Internet professional services firm before selling it to a global ad agency. I had then set out on my own for a few years to help start-up companies and to consult very large media companies on emerging Internet opportunities.
But then, after September 11, December 19th dropped its unwelcome gift on me, and my job post-holidays became a quest for survival.
A call from New York came in March, 2002, shortly before a family trip to Spain to take our minds off of my impending surgery. The call was fron Lindsay Davidson, the former publisher of Mother Jones magazine and now head of Prime Source Agency. She started the call by saying something like: "I’m recruiting for a job there in the Twin Cities, but I can’t mention the company name."
I believe my reply went along these lines: “Well Lindsay, I’m flattered, but to be truthful, I haven’t worked for a corporation in a decade and that was a marketing firm where I was a partner. I think I’ve done a good job of working myself into unemployability in the corporate world, plus I have a health issue that will require all my time and attention for at least the next two months, if not longer.”
Lindsay replied: “Well, OK, but let me at least tell you about it.” I cut her short as she described it: “Damn it. That’s my dream job.”
Lindsay then stepped forward and offered to leave the next tasks in her hands, even the crafting of a resume which I hadn’t done in maybe 20 years. She promised to check back before surgery and after to see if I was interested and if the company was interested. I got her to tell me the company was Best Buy, the major retailer of consumer electronics and computers
So, nine days after surgery, with catheter bag well concealed in my baggiest pants, I interviewed with a company vice president. The challenge fit my past pursuits: to establish a new business with emerging media products to help consumers learn more about digital products and lifestyle activities.
Lindsay called four hours later with the job offer. As much as I wanted to accept on the spot I told her that my doctors predicted a six to nine week recovery, and I was only in week two. But I promised to consider it seriously and talk to her every few days. She said that if I would accept conditionally, the company would hold the offer. So I did. That meant I had to take the pre-hiring drug test. And I still chuckle about disappearing behind a curtain and filling a little cup with urine from my catheter bag.
After about three weeks, I was feeling ready to tackle the challenging position, especially because it would be the first time in my career of inventing new forms of media communications where I had both a budget and a built-in audience, the retailer’s customers.
What is the lesson in this story for my sad friends? To me it is that my phone call seemingly coming out-of-the-blue did not really emanate from thin air. It came during a time when I was intensely focused on resetting my mind and spirit to bolster the body, and was not thinking outside my center about work. I tell my temporarily unemployed friends to try taking a couple of months off of consciously seeking work, and instead seek better health. And damn if I haven't seen bolts of opportunity come the way of a couple of guys. ¶ 1:54 PM
