The Broker

The Broker

When Robert arrived in Palo Alto to start his career, he moved to East Palo Alto into a studio apartment along the freeway. Since he did not own a car, he had to walk, rain or shine to the office for over a year. It was a 40-minute walk each way. On his first day at work, there was a big winter storm which rained so hard that the water on the street was over the soles of his shoes. When he arrived at the office at 6:00 AM, his suit trousers were soaked below the knee, his head and shirt were wet and around his shoes a chalky white coating formed from the road salt. As he was putting his things away, a broker walked over to complain that he was “dragging” wet leaves onto the office carpet and then turned to walk back to his desk. Robert turned to look and there behind him was a trail of wet leaves from the front door to the spot where he stood. In the darkness outside he could see the ferocious wind blowing debris up the street. He could not possibly describe the pain of the restraint that was necessary to keep from punching in this guy’s face, dragging him outside and kicking him into the storm drain. Instead, he said to the back of this guy’s shirt as he walked back to his office “I will clean it up.”

He was put in the basement coffee room to study for the security license exams. This “office” gave him a chance to meet all the brokers from the main floor when they came down for coffee.

After pouring themselves a cup, they would walk over to welcome him to the office as the new trainee. The men standing around him wore uniforms of suits with spotless, pressed, white long sleeve shirts and blue or red ties bearing the corporate logo while the women wore scarfs, business suits, and perfect hair. Together they displayed the crisp, clean cut image one would expect of a financial advisor or a department store window.

There was an unctuous atmosphere of self-satisfaction and success in the room. To be polite they asked questions about his background. Since the attrition rate was so high in the securities business for trainees, the questions were pretty superficial as he wasn’t expected to be there very long.

“Hi. And what is your name?”

“Robert.”

“So Robert what were you doing before you were hired?”

“I was the waiter at an Italian restaurant in the city.”

“Did you do that while working on your MBA?"

“No, I was just working."

“Then, you must have studied finance in college.”

“No, I studied English literature?"

“Are you a Stanford grad?"

“No, U.C. Berkeley.”

“You’re big. Did you play football for Cal?”

“No, I played automatic rifleman for the Marines.”

“Oh, you were in the Army?”

“No, I was in the Marines.”

”Is there a difference?”

“Oh yes. When you eat in the Army, you use silverware and the meat’s prepared.”

“Did you have any prior business experience?”

“That’s a funny question. I have had a lot of experiences just none of it in business.”

“Well then how did you get hired?”

“Gee, I don’t know anymore. Beats me.”

The surprise on their faces from his answers gave him the feeling that somehow, like a virus, he snuck in undetected and entered a body of what they considered to be a sanctuary. It was the kind of welcome that he experienced before. The one where you know, you don’t belong here. In spite of his feelings, he went on to tell them the story of how this unnatural event occurred.

I was waiting on a table of six young attractive women from the financial district during lunch hour one day trying to get a date with one of them. They were laughing loudly as I was teasing and flirting with one of them when a customer from the section next to mine called me to his table. I went over to the table and asked, “Can I help you, sir?” With a big smile, he handed me his business card and said; “You have a great line of bullshit. Have you ever thought about being a stockbroker?”

“A stock broker!" Robert laughed and responded, “I don’t even have a savings account. I don’t know anything about the stock market.” He said, “That doesn’t matter. My company will teach you all of that. Here is my card. Give me a call. I would like you to meet my boss.”

Robert described how impressed he was when the broker extended his hand with the card in between his fingers and revealed his starched monogrammed shirt cuff, gold cuff links, the white silk liner of his suit and the solid gold watch around his wrist. Through the cigarette smoke and garlic of the restaurant Robert could smell the fragrance of money on him. He wore it like subtle cologne.

Robert walked away from the table feeling the black plastic business card pinned on his jacket that bore the name Robert. This event made a big impression on him but at that point in the story, he could see he lost his audience.

His office mates failed to find the humor in the tale, so he ended it there in an effort not to bore them. He sensed that some found his story coarse and cheap. Their discomfort with it was obvious and once they could politely excuse themselves, they very quickly left to attend to something suddenly very important upstairs. Once again he found himself sitting at the table working alone after everyone went upstairs to drink their coffee.

He reflected on the question of his hiring a little more and wished they would have found it interesting enough to listen to the story. How could they not see the significance of the extraordinary encounter with a stranger that eventually brought him to Palo Alto and gave him this chance for a new direction in his life?
This broker was a complete stranger and yet he worked just across the street. Robert worked lunch every day and could not remember ever seeing him in the place before. Then one day this stranger comes in, hands him his business card and invites him to an interview with the manager of one of the largest securities firms in the country.

Robert initially took this gesture about the interview like all others in the bar business as not being sincere. He had collected business cards and offers like that in the past from people who wanted to appear important, but the only one that turned out to be a legitimate opportunity was one to collect the football cards and bets for a local bookmaker. He didn’t like to think that he wasted five years of his life going to college to get a degree for a job that only required a certificate of graduation from middle school, but he began to fear that is what he did. After a few more months of serving soup and spaghetti, he finally became willing to handle one more disappointment and called the broker.

The broker was good on his promise and set up the meeting. When Robert arrived wearing his only suit, he was greeted by him in the lobby. The lobby walls and the hallways were filled with art and plants. The desks and furniture were polished and elegant. The view of the city from the top floor was spectacular. The broker, as sharply dressed as before walked him around to tour the office and escort him to the manager’s suite. At the entrance to his office, they shook hands once again, and Robert thanked him for arranging this meeting and offered to buy him lunch. They stepped inside the spacious office to meet the manager with the broker making the introductions. As they were sitting, the broker turned away and left them alone. It was the last time Robert ever saw him.

That brief encounter during lunch led to this meeting in the Transamerica Pyramid building on Montgomery St, across the street from the restaurant. From his seat next to the window, he could look down to the street and see the entrance of the old one story restaurant sitting in the shadow of the pyramid many floors below him. The people going in and out of the restaurant looked like little anonymous specks moving on the street. At ground level, they would have faces and names but from up here they were just dots on the sidewalk. He felt tense thinking that at the conclusion this interview, he would be on the ground again, returning to work the dinner shift, in his white shirt, black bow tie and red waiter’s jacket with his plastic name tag, he would spend the evening serving family style Italian dinners with salad dressing on his cuffs and spaghetti sauce splattered on his shoes while picking up the change in the tip tray.

The interview was awkward. He felt completely out of place, but his expectations and hopes started to rise that this could be a moment of redemption even though he had no prior business experience and was almost 28 years old.

The cordialities were brief. The manager wasted no time in informing him of the challenges of being a stock broker and the lack of qualifications on his resume for the position. He emphasized the hours, the competition and pressure that the job required. He stressed the sacrifice and commitment that would be necessary to be successful. Then he asked abruptly “So, how well do you handle pressure?”

Robert felt the push and didn’t like it. "I don’t mean to sound disrespectful but when I walked into this redwood paneled air conditioned office, with well-dressed people talking civilly to each I didn’t see any pressure. I didn’t see any work either. No one is sweating. No one is selling. No one is even on the phone. Pressure is when you have an hour back up getting people seated for dinner, a cook threatening a waiter with a knife, breaking up a domestic squabble in the bar, the refrigeration breaking down, running out quarters at the check-out stand and staying calm through the night. It is working double shifts while getting prepared for finals. That’s pressure. It is keeping the ship afloat under fire: that’s pressure. I don’t think you have any pressure here that I can’t handle.” He responded tersely.

It was a bad opening. Now he was afraid his answer was too direct but he resented the curt and disrespectful approach so much that he had to let the manager know it. He started to sense that somehow this opportunity was becoming another disappointing accident in his life and maybe being a waiter is all he will ever be. He wondered if he was just wasting his time or that he couldn’t possibly be the one they were looking for. He was back in that familiar situation where he had no choices. Situations where he had to take what he could get and live with it.

Robert couldn’t figure out what it was that was always missing in his plans. There was always some piece of information or miscalculation that derailed his best efforts to move up in the world. He chuckled to himself when he remembered a remark that a girlfriend once made to him about his certainty when it came to the future.

She said, “Robert, you’re the kind of guy who believes if you think about the future long and hard enough that you will be able to anticipate how it will work out, but you have never been right once since I have known you.”

Nevertheless, he wanted this job. He wanted the money. He was exhausted by failing to move up in life and earning nothing but change for his efforts. After so many years of servile work, there was no dignity: it had just become demeaning.

He no longer cared about what he became: he just didn’t want to continue what he was doing. He had reached the end of his line. All that mattered now was doing something or anything that had a future to it. Doing something where he could make some real money instead of picking quarters and dollar bills off the table. Most importantly, to do something that would validate the accomplishments that he valued.

During the interview, he had to continue spending time defending his background and lack of qualifications with the facts that he served in the Marines for three years and afterward earned a B.A degree in English from U.C Berkeley while working and paying his way through college. He stressed that lacking a strong, determined work ethic and discipline that none of that could be accomplished. These were the skills and knowledge that he knew valuable, and he didn’t understand why the demonstration of them was so unimportant.

He could tell right away that majoring in English literature didn’t quite fit the requirements either. It seemed that all it meant to the manager was that he could read rather than think. Somehow, being a waiter with a degree in English qualified him for nothing.

What was important? He had never married, had no children, didn’t own a home, was too independent for the corporate team and did not demonstrate the kind of stable, predictable candidate that a corporation was looking for.

The manager commented that Robert seemed “to live his life going from place to place just doing what he pleased, and now you expect me to believe that you are ready to settle down and have a career? We are team players here Robert, and you seem to be accustomed to operating on your own. Do you realize that the cost of the training is expensive, and the failure rate is one of the highest in the business world? We have to be very selective. Tell me why should I believe you?”

Robert took his time before answering as this was one of those questions that could produce an answer that would either send him out the door with his self-respect or have him groveling on the floor for the chance to work there.

After careful reflection, he chose a tactful response. “I grew up in a Marine Corps family. My parents raised me to go experience life and make adult decisions when I became one. I thought marriage and career fit that advice and I chose to wait. But Shakespeare can give you a much clearer answer to your question than I can.” The manager asked, “what did Shakespeare say?”

That “I was scattered by such winds that scatter young men through the world to seek their fortunes farther from home where small experience grows.” The manager smiled and gently pointing his forefinger he graciously said: “touché’ Bob.”

In the silence that followed, Robert could feel disappointment rising again as the promise of changing the direction of his life seemed to be slipping away until the manager impatiently asked, “well do you have any sales experience?”

Robert told him how he had worked going to door to door in poor neighborhoods selling water filtered vacuum cleaners to earn his rent. He sold vitamins and security guard services and worked in all sorts of restaurant jobs to support him -self and to pay for college. He pointed out that being a waiter and bartender is a sales job too. In those jobs, you learn how to talk to people from all walks of life and most importantly not to let them intimidate or discourage you.

He said, “no, what I mean is; have you had any formal sales training in finding prospects, qualifying them and closing them as clients?”

He chuckled and said “Oh is that what you mean?” he said. “I do that all the time.”

“You do what all the time?” The manager asked.

“Prospecting, qualifying and closing. I would not have the social life I enjoy in this city if I didn’t have those skills and I certainly didn’t learn them in a training class."

The manager could not make the connection between his question and the answer. Robert quickly reasoned that since the manager wore a wedding ring, he probably didn’t have any idea of what he was talking about.

“Look, because I never married I am a very eligible bachelor. I have don’t have the baggage of divorce or an ex to carry around, and I don’t have any hostility or dependence on women. I like women."

"In this city, the adult male gay population is about 30%. There are more women in this city than are men. With 10 million tourists a year coming into town the night life for a guy like me is great. I know that I am a scarce commodity in San Francisco. I live in the city down in Cow Hollow where the straight bars and nightclubs are located, and I often go out at night to those bars and clubs to mix with the women."

“When I go out at night, do you know you what I am looking for?” He paused here for a few seconds to make sure the manager was listening. “I am looking to meet a woman who can make a decision.”

"When most guys go out at night, they may talk to one or maybe two girls an evening. After they spend a lot of time talking about themselves and buying all the drinks they usually end up with a rejection for a date. After being rejected once or twice, they usually go home discouraged to sulk or get drunk. It is like they believe that just buying drinks and talking all about themselves is going to get them a girlfriend, as if somehow women can’t buy their own drinks or select the company they prefer. Men don’t understand that no matter how good looking or cool they think they are; in the end, it is always a woman’s idea. These guys never get anywhere because they don’t ask the important questions about the woman they are talking to, and consequently, they fail because their conclusions are incorrect. They are never going to turn a no to a maybe, let alone a maybe to a yes. Remember, women like to play with temptation too, but they know they control the end game."

"Now during an evening, I may talk to a dozen or more women. Just small talk get acquainted stuff like, "Where are you from? what kind of work do you do? Do you work in the city? Do you live in the city? What are your plans tonight? Are you here with anyone?" "I look to see if she has a wedding ring on her finger. Maybe she is recently divorced. I ask her about herself. I show interest in her. I use the word “you” more than the word “I” when talking with her. I do all that in a matter of minutes before I will order or offer her a drink."

The manager asked “Well Robert. How do you handle rejection?”

Robert thought for a moment and decided to take a risk with his answer.

“Well Sir, if I couldn’t handle rejection I would still be a virgin wouldn’t I?” The atmosphere between them suddenly turned much warmer and relaxed after that comment. They leaned closer towards each other now as if their words were not meant to be overheard. It made you wonder whether the manager worried about being discovered enjoying such a misanthrope as a prospective employee or that he just did not want to miss any salacious details, nouns or verbs. Robert rolled on.

"You see, I am looking to meet a woman that I am interested in and one who is interested in me and most importantly a woman who can make the decision to go home with me if she wants. Certain things have to be right for that to happen. If she is in town with 4 of her girlfriends and lives in the suburbs, she will never be able to break away from them even if she wants to. Women place a lot of importance on what their girlfriends think of them. Most important is to remember that women, like cats are very discreet about their personal matters.”

“What are men like Robert?”

“Men? Men are like dogs.”

He went on, “I try to find out if she is divorced or has children. Those are very sensitive social conditions for a woman. If she is alone or with a friend and she lives in the city, then she is simply a cab ride home. It is one of those “your place or mine” kind of thing. Once I meet a woman I like, I ask her if she would like to go to the bar next door to have a drink with me.”

He looked at the manager sitting there in his perfectly tailored three-piece, dark blue; pin striped suit with a gold watch chain across the front of his vest. His eyes were wide open, and his smile was one he couldn’t conceal. Sitting directly in the afternoon light his face revealed a subtle red flush. Robert leaned towards him and softly asked: “do you know why that invitation is so important?"

“I have no idea. Why?” The manager asked.

Because if she won’t leave her girlfriend to go next door and have a drink with me, she is not going to leave her to go my place to have one.”

They both had a good laugh. Robert could tell by the way the manager kept rubbing his watch with his thumb and forefinger that he had captured his interest. The manager may not have had any comparable experiences, but he certainly understood what had been described to him. He saw enough in the conversation to remark that he found Robert fascinating and would like to him interview him again to get some other opinions. He said he wasn’t sure if Robert was committed to this job as a career and that he might be too aggressive but at that moment, no one was sure of anything except that door had been opened.

What Robert knew for certain going into the interview was that somewhere in his life, he turned left instead of right and now found himself a waiter at 28 years of age without any opportunity or hint of what direction he should take. This was not the destination he sought out when he left home for the Marines. He now saw this job as a change towards a new direction.

When they ended the manager asked, “do you have any questions?”

He said, “Yes. Given your experience as a branch manager and former director of the training center, how do think I would do?”

His smile broadened widely, and as he removed his gold-rimmed glasses he leaned closer to Robert said “Oh, I think you would be phenomenal! I don’t think you have any idea of how good you would be, but I am just not sure that this is what you want to do. If it is; you call me right away. I have someone else in mind who would be interested in meeting you.”

When the interview concluded, he stood up, shook hands with the manager and taking the elevator to the ground floor walked back to the restaurant across the street from the pyramid building for the night shift. He allowed himself to feel that he had entered a turn, and his path in life would now move in a different direction. Entering the old single story building that had housed this restaurant for decades, he went downstairs to the basement to change out of his suit. Peeling off his clothes under the watchful eyes of the hundreds of centerfold pictures of naked women that covered the walls, he proceeded to put on his black trousers, white shirt, black bow tie, and red vest with the plastic name tag pinned on his lapel. Carefully returning his suit to the suit bag that had long since been unopened he felt afraid that he might be zipping it up for good.

He was careful not to wake the owner from his nap. Looking over at him, Bob thought how peaceful he looked resting on the cot. Seeing him lying there without clutching the 14-inch kitchen knife in his hand made him appear almost gentle and safe. It made him look almost reasonable.

That blade was the extension of his power in that restaurant and with curses in Italian and the swinging of the knife, everyone had to be quick once they crossed the perimeter of the pickup window to gather their plates.

The night was quiet, and hopes of closing early seemed to be on everyone's mind. Bob had the duty of setting the table for the owners and staff to have dinner once the front door closed at 10 PM. He had one party left to clear out. With the check in his hand, he walked over to ask if there was anything else that they needed before he sat down to eat. A young man was on one side chatting away with two girls and ignored his question. Not wanting to have to get up during his dinner he persisted and asked once again if there was anything else he could get them before he sat down to eat.

Pushing a partially filled plate towards Bob the young man tersely said: "Put this in a doggy bag for me."

Bob walked back into the kitchen to find one. He searched through the cabinets and under the counter for a doggy bag until the owner looked over the cooks line and yelled "what are you looking for? The God damn kitchen is closed."

"I need a doggy bag for this guy. Where are they?" Bob answered.

"We don't have any doggy bags."

"How can we be out of doggy bags? There must be one somewhere."

"This is a family-style Italian restaurant, and you eat what you ordered. We don't have them anymore. They raised the god damn price, and I refused to pay for them." He turned back to the stove to keep the food from burning.

"What do I tell this guy?" Bob asked.

"Tell him that we don't carry them anymore." He responded.

Bob protested. "He is not going to be happy."

"Too bad. I am not going to pay for doggy bags."

"Well then. What do I tell him?" Bob asked again.

"You tell him that we ain't no God damn supermarket. We ain't a God damn Safeway. He eats it or we throw it away."

"I can't tell him that!" Bob incredulously responded.

"Don't bother me. I am busy. I have to finish dinner for everyone. Tell the guy we are closed and set up the bread and wine for everyone."

Bob returned to the table wondering what to say, and as the customer looked up, Bob paused and announced that unfortunately, the restaurant was out of doggy bags.

"How can you be out of doggy bags? What kind of restaurant is this? I want to take this home for my dog. Then put it in some saran wrap or aluminum foil. You must have that in this place."
"Of course. I hadn't thought of that. Excuse me; I will be right back."

As he walked back towards the kitchen, Bob wondered whether or not Luciano was harassing him for some entertainment.

Quietly returning to the kitchen and staying behind the large coffee urns so the Luciano would not see him, he looked around for some wrapping.

"What the hell are you looking for now?" Lou yelled.

"Aluminum foil."

"We don't have any. We don't keep leftovers," Lou answered on a higher note.

Bob knew that the chef's next remarks would soon contain more cursing in Italian and threatening stabs with the knife.

He resigned himself for more trouble. Grumbling to himself while walking back to the table, he didn't look forward to this encounter. The attraction of just walking out of the place to find a bar to sit in and cry into a double scotch on the rocks about the loss of his self-respect seemed preferable. He found this whole situation with the customer demeaning.

Prepared for the rude and ridiculous response, he knew he was going to hear when he told the little imp at the table that there is no wrapping available anywhere in the restaurant to take his dinner home to his dog.

"Excuse me sir, but we don't have anything in which to wrap your leftovers," Bob announced.

"I can't believe that! You get the owner. I want to see the owner or manager right now."

They look directly at each other for a few seconds before Bob said "You don't need to. I have already told him about it." "And what did he say?"

"He told me to tell you that this, not a god damn supermarket, and he is not going pay for doggy bags so you can take his food home to feed your dog. Now I have to close up right now so would any of you like some coffee before I shut it down?"

"No. Just get me my check."

Bob turned and walked back into the kitchen to clean out the coffee urns. Scrubbing the two 5 gallons tanks, he cursed about the little prick sitting out there trying act like a big shot. When finished, he walked out to join the owners and staff for dinner. He wasn't even there for 5 minutes when from behind him he heard the click of someone snapping their fingers.

One click. One snap of his fingers to get his attention indicating that the guest wanted him right away. One snap of the fingers to get his attention even though he sat only 10 feet away. Everyone at the table looked up with surprise and started whispering to Bob asking what the fuck is that guy's problem?

Without saying a word, Bob got up and walked over to the table and standing next to the customer he looked down and calmly asked "Can I help you, sir?"

Without looking up, the customer said, "Yes, we would like some more coffee."

Standing above him at six foot one and 215lbs, Bob thought how easy and quick it would be to take his right hand, grab his throat, crush his esophagus and repeatedly smash his little head against the wooden booth but instead, he said "Buddy. I sure hope you got a sense of humor because not only are we are out of doggy bags, we are out of coffee, and I will be damned if I am going to make 5 gallons of it for you." With that good night, Bob returned to the table and the cheering of his fellow workers. The customer and his two women got up to leave and as they approached the front door, one of the waiters walked over and picked up the tip tray with only one penny on it and hollered: "Hey you! You forgot something." The waiter walked over to the guy who was standing with the swinging door partially open and threw the penny in his face, shoved him outside and told him to get the hell of here and never come back.

They met again to discuss the next step in the selection process. This meeting was much friendlier than the first, and the discussion initially centered on the opportunities available in San Francisco.

The manager, however, came back to his reservations about Robert being too aggressive and how that might be the problem in the firm. Robert thought “What’s he afraid of? Does he think I am going turn prospects upside down in the office to shake the change out of their pockets?”

He tried to assuage his concern with an assurance. “I know I was anxious and very excited about the chance to work here. I would like very much to have this opportunity. I assure you I can it tone down. There is no need to worry.”

But the manager did worry. He was not the typical candidate that the firm usually identified as ideal. There was no doubt about Robert’s talent as a salesman. His talent could not be cultivated in training classes: it was visceral. The drive and the skill to sell came from deep inside him. He had an instinct for it.
Building a business cold calling prospects all day would not deter him from being successful but his background and personality represented a risk to the manager. Since he would be working at the company’s main office, his performance and personality would be very visible to the managers at higher levels in the company and any questions or problems with Robert would directly reflect on the branch manager’s judgment. Additionally, he wondered what the other brokers would think. The manager was concerned that Robert was not compliant enough. He would stand out too much. He also felt that Robert’s outspoken and direct nature, though compelling and likable, would not be controllable and consequently, he would not be appreciated regardless of how well he did. Robert was, as he saw in the interview, not easily intimidated and a man who preferred to take the risk on the edge rather than from the safety of the center. Despite the manager’s confidence in Robert’s work ethic and sales ability, he considered the risk was too high and that he was not the right image for the firm.

He made his decision. “Well, we can discuss that at greater length the next time we meet. Right now I haven’t any openings to fill. I want you to stay in touch with me. Take some sales courses and read some books and let’s get together in about six months. We will see what comes available later this year."

This turn of events hit Robert like a hard punch in the nose. His whole face went numb. His eyes started to tear. He was stunned. The abruptness of this rejection and the complete severance of any possible opportunity suddenly left him with little room to maneuver in the conversation. A blow had been struck, the ring had been cut off and now he was being backed into the corner and out the door. He wasted no time, however, in recovering his balance, clearing his head and quickly countering “You said you had someone you wanted me to meet. Can I speak to him?” He asked as he stalked back towards the center in pursuit of the job.

“Of course, but he is down in Palo Alto. I didn’t know you would be willing to move out of the city.”

“I will go wherever I have to for a job like this. Can we call him now?” The manager reached over and dialed Scott Hicks, the branch manager of the Palo Alto office and discussed Robert as a great candidate. He said that he had interviewed him and thought that the two of us should schedule a time to meet and discuss the opportunities in the Palo Alto office.

He handed the phone to Robert and walked out to let them talk.

Robert tried to be cordial, but the manager was all business. Clearly there were to be no preliminaries. This brief call was his interview. Hick’s was a man who was truly aggressive and in control. It was his turf and he set the rules. The more Robert got around to asking for a time to meet, the more questions the manager asked about him. He asked personal questions like he was biting off a piece of meat on a spit. He questions cut deep, and Robert’s tortured explanations were a personal embarrassment to him. Each answer Robert gave about his background elicited more questions and more negative responses from the manager. Robert rightly sensed that he was about to lose this call. He quickly hunted for another direction.

He interrupted the manager and changed the subject. “I understand that you have some openings in your office. I would like to interview for one of them.”

The manager responded quickly, “There is no point in talking about them. I have already filled them. Even if I liked you where would I put you?”

“But why not meet me? If I am better than what you have, then you can get rid of one of them.” Robert pressed on by rapidly accelerating his rate of speech to block Mr. Hick’s exit from the call as carefully as he could. In one breath he said, “I am calling you at the direction of the former director of training and the branch manager of the main office in the city. He thinks a meeting between us would be a productive one. I do too. I think it would be worth your time. If you have questions about my personal or business life then I request that you ask them when I am sitting face to face with you rather than on the phone at 4 o’clock on Friday afternoon. Now is there a time when I can come down to meet you?"

“Be here at 9 AM on Monday.” Click.

At precisely 9 AM they have seated in the glass enclosed office of the branch manager. Mr. Hicks didn’t spend much time going over Robert’s resume or background. He had already done that over the weekend. He now seemed to be operating on his instinct and intuition. He displayed an amiable and curious interest in Robert. He was relaxed and animated in his conversation and dismissive of the corporate intrigue in the city. He was in the suburbs and not the corporate office. Down here in Palo Alto there was no one looking over his shoulder. Down here, he was in command.

After a half an hour Mr. Hicks remarked that he would be willing to hire Robert with some serious restrictions. He had never hired a “waiter or bartender” before and wanted to make it clear that his tolerance for failure was non-existent. “If you can’t cut it then you go back to waiting tables.”

He had one more task he wanted Robert to do before they finished. He wanted him to be interviewed by his top four people to hear what their impressions were of him. He called his secretary into his office and instructed her to set up some meetings with various brokers in the office after which Robert was to return to his office and wait outside until he discussed their thoughts with him. Robert knew that was impossible to get four people to agree on anything and the likelihood that he would receive the blessings of all four was non-existent. He thought that Hicks intended to scrutinize him thoroughly and seek a consensus to support his decision.

When the meetings were over Robert returned to the couch in the lobby to wait. He could see each broker discussing their impressions with Mr. Hicks. One by one they came and went until all four had given their report. Robert continued to wait. Mr. Hicks was not in any hurry to end the long discussion he was now having on the phone. Patiently his secretary said, “he will call you in when he is ready.”

Robert tried to go over each conversation he had to seek out any weaknesses or comments that he made that could be used against him. He knew deep down that he had come much further than he ever imagined and now his fate was in the hands of 4 people he had never met and who had no vested interest in his being hired. They had nothing to gain. A yes answer could only backfire on them. They aren’t the risk takers.

The secretary’s voice caught his attention, “you can go in now,” she said.

Mr. Hicks sat behind his desk putting more distance and obstacles between them. He was not as accessible this time. His sat erect with his back straight, head up and shoulders squared.

He leaned forward towards Robert and said “Well that was very interesting. I had you meet my four top people, and not one of them liked you. They all felt that you are too aggressive and not quite the type of person we need in the Palo Alto office”. He stood up and walked over to Robert. Robert quickly stood up. With his shoulders back, his heels together he presented the sharp bearing of a man with pride in the face of defeat. “This is the goodbye,” He thought. “I guess it is now time to return to the city and get dressed to work the dinner shift.”

Robert told the manager how much he appreciated his interest and consideration in giving him the opportunity to interview. They stood erect facing each other, and Robert spoke again without displaying any emotions.

“I am sorry to hear that Sir. I know how that changes everything for me and what an awkward position that it puts you in. I understand you will have to change your mind, but before I leave, I wish to say sincerely thank you for meeting with me.”

“Change my mind?" Mr. Hicks exclaimed “I am not going to change my mind. I am the manager here, and I make the decisions. I think you would great and I would much rather hire someone like you that I have to hold back, than someone I have to motivate.”

“Mr. Hicks. If you give me this chance I promise you, I will die at the desk with that phone in my ear. You will not be disappointed.”

“I know I won’t,” he said. “You see unlike the others, I understand you. I understand what makes you tick because I understand what makes your father tick.”

“My father? What does my father have to do with this?” Robert asked.

“Your father was in the Marines; you were in the Marines, and I was in the Marines."

With a smile on his face, he extended his hand to Robert and said: “Welcome aboard Robert.” Robert clasped his hand firmly and looked him directly in his eyes he said, “Thank you, sir. Thank you very much!”

Mr. Hicks called in his secretary and instructed her to prepare Robert’s licensing application, contract, and his study materials right away. “I think we are done for now Robert. Report here December 1 at 0600 and be prepared to work hard."