A Life Wasted

My Son 1985

After receiving my pilot's license I was able to clear my head and go back to work. Most of my customers were upset with me because of my neglect. Between the move and flying lessons I had neglected my business so much that I endangered future success. So it was back to work. I needed to balance servicing existing customers and selling new ones to keep the money machine working. It was a tight balancing act for a one man business with customers spread across the country.

Business travel was justification for a pilot's licenses. I soon learned being a pilot didn't fill all my travel needs. At first it didn't help at all. I had a license, but couldn't fly "complex" planes that were faster with greater range. They were available to rent, but not until I had two hundred hours in my log book and more training. I had to drive.

Working close to home I made a sale in Syracuse, New York, then to another in Rochester, New York. I needed more sales so I was on the road constantly, but for some reason sales had stopped. I was traveling too much, working too much, pushing too hard, but most importantly, not spending enough time addressing the needs of existing customers. I was the sales man, the installer, the developer, and customer service. It was too much for any one person and my business was suffering as a result.

During this time Mary convinced me to go to church with her and the kids one Sunday night before heading off to Chicago for a demo the next morning. Chicago was 500 miles from home so it would be an all night drive then a morning demo. A typical day. Because church was west of our home in Greenville she drove her van and I drove my Nissan Maxima so I could leave from there. Church was at the home of Larry McDivett. Larry was my pastor and a man I admired, respected, and even submitted to on issues of religion and life. Today I would call Larry a mentor, but he was also my friend. You'll notice in this story that there are few I call friend. Larry was one and first among them. After church Larry introduced me to Bud, whose name was something Russian or Polish. I couldn't remember Bud's last name then and I can't remember it now. Bud was eighteen, freshly graduated from high school. A local boy who'd never traveled past the next county. A good, wholesome kid who didn't have a single job prospect in an area famous for loosing its steel industry to Japan.

When Larry introduced Bud to me he said he was looking for work, then asked if I had any openings. This was an odd question because Larry knew I worked alone. Larry wanted me to hire Bud, but I had no idea why. I looked at Bud, young and anxious. He was also too handsome and built like the devoted weightlifter he was. I asked Bud if he had a driver's licenses. He said he did then pulled out his wallet to prove it. I looked at Mary. She didn't know what Larry was up to either, but trusted Larry as I did. She gave me a slight nod.

I offered Bud a job as my driver. Temporary as I didn't know I needed a driver. He accepted without asking questions. The details didn't matter to Bud. He needed a job and would take what was offered. Bud asked when he would start. I looked at my watch and said, "Now. I've got to drive to Chicago tonight. You drive. We leave now." Bud was so shocked he couldn't speak, but did manage a nod. He called his dad then we hit the road. Bud was nervous about a lot of things. He was nervous about my Nissan with its talking computer and buttons he didn't understand, nervous about how fast the car was, but most of all he was nervous about being so far from home. Not just Chicago, Bud was nervous when we left Trumble County. Being a natural born nomad it was difficult for me to relate to such attachment to home turf, but I being a compassionate type, tried not to laugh at him too much.

I gave Bud cash for gas and tolls then went to sleep. I slept through most of the night, waking only when we stopped. All things considered it worked out pretty well until we reached Chicago where Bud had pulled over on the side of a twelve lane highway and woke me up. He was hysteric. "I can't drive in this." We switched seats and I drove to the customer's address. Since I'd slept the entire trip we hadn't talked, so Bud didn't know what I did or why we were in Chicago other than a vague idea that I did something with computers. I gave Bud a short explanation while we unloaded the equipment. The Altos computer was not small or portable. My demo required two terminals, so the equipment filled the trunk. It helped having Bud as my pack mule, so in no time I had the computers set up.