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.
The customer was a high-end executive recruiter with a national reputation. I knew a good bit about the man but what I didn't know was that he was blind. While I was booting the computer the customer explained that his partner was suppose to join us but he couldn't make it so I'd have to "show" him. Blind humor. It was difficult for me to laugh because I'd just determined my computer was broke. It had an operating system error and wouldn't boot. I could fix it, but that would take hours with utility software I didn't have with me. I was about to give up when the customer said, "So tell me what it looks like." A light went on. I looked at Bud and held my finger to my lip in the universal signal to be quiet. Bud looked confused but nodded. With fingers tapping the keyboard (pre-mouse days) I began to explain the screens of the various programs. Bud looked at me like I had lost my mind as I said things like, "This screen is your applicant database. On it you can search your applicants by everything from skills to the college they attended" and then, "The Client program allows you to match a job opening..." I'd designed and written the software so I knew every digit of it. I didn't need to see it to know what was there, so I was able to give a full demonstration on a blank screen.
The customer had seemed eager two weeks earlier when we set the demo up, but was now hesitant. To my surprise I wasn't able to close the deal. I didn't know it then but word was already spreading around the tight association of executive recruiters that though I had great software, my customer service was zero. Bud knew none of this, but he was amazed at what he'd witnessed. All I heard on the way home was, "I can't believe you showed a broke computer to a blind man."
I liked having a driver so I could sleep and to help me move the equipment. Like everyone who met him, I liked Bud. I hired him full time and we became good friends. As Bud would say, I "turned him out." Two weeks after we met Bud was driving Atlanta's heavy traffic like a seasoned pro. The transition for shy country boy to a man that could handle anything was amazing to watch. After we went our separate ways Bud opened an automotive sound business in Youngstown. In a year he had three stores and after three years he sold the business for a handsome profit. I could fill chapters of stories interesting and funny stories about Bud, but as this story is about me I'll refrain. Suffice it to say that Bud is a wonderful guy, even if I never knew his last name.
Clay began to have serious problems with his deformed heart. Clay was three years old now, his first heart surgery at ten days old. Recall that I was in prison when Clay was born, so he didn't have medical insurance at birth. Because of this pre-existing condition I was unable to get medical insurance for him. This hadn't been a problem until now. Clay was being treated at Cleveland Clinic's Rainbow Children's Hospital. It was a great hospital with a well deserved reputation. Clay's doctor's assured us that our son required another surgery and he had to have it now. Knowing we lacked medical insurance the surgeons waived their fees so all we had to do was pay hospital cost, which would cost more than $100,000. I called the hospital to make payment arrangements, which I didn't expect to be a problem. I had $15,000 to give them before the surgery so I felt confident they would accept that as a down payment and allow me to make payments on the balance. I was mistaken. The hospital ran a credit report. My credit sucked, so they rejected my offer. They said I'd have to pay $100,000 up front before they could do the surgery.
I didn't accept the admission clerk's decision so I went up the chain until I spoke to the woman who ran Rainbow's Children's Hospital. She was a real prick. Nothing I said changed her mind. She said it was my fault. I should have had medical insurance. She was right about it being my fault, but that didn't prevent me with being upset with her, yet I managed not to lose my temper. When I got off the phone I was furious. I tried everything I could think of to raise the money but nothing worked. I lacked credit and the assets necessary to secure a loan of this size. Clay's surgery had been scheduled for three days off. Clay's doctors warned he might not survive the surgery, but were positive he'd die without it. In desperation I was on the verge of reverting to my old ways. Mary knew this so she sat me down to talk. She said I know what you're thinking, but there's a better way. You're the smartest man I know, so find that way. I asked what she was going to do. She said she was going to pray. That's exactly what she did.
It didn't take long for an idea to develop. There was a newsstand twenty miles away in Sharon so I drove there for a Cleveland newspaper. I searched the paper until I found a reporter who had written a story on a medical subject. I called the Cleveland Plain Dealer and was transferred to his phone. I explained the situation and asked if there was anything he could do to help. He asked for my number, then said he'd call me right back. Mary and I sat by the phone. Five minutes later the phone rang. It was the uncaring director of Rainbow's Children's Hospital. She had reconsidered. My son's surgery could proceed as scheduled, we would work out a payment schedule. As soon as we hung up the reporter called. He had called her and said, "I'm writing a story about three year-old Clay Waagner. I've got everything but the ending. Tell me how the story is going to end. Is it going to be an innocent three year-old boy died because Rainbow's was too worried about it's bottom-line to allow his parents to make payments on the bill, or is it going to be about the generosity of your hospital." He wouldn't tell me the rest of their conversation other than to say he didn't like her. The reporter's threat of bad publicity meant more to her than the death of a child.
Clay survived the surgery and recovered well. In the hospital we gave the reporter an exclusive newspaper interview. After his story ran the television networks showed up. They interviewed both Mary and I, but only aired her interview. I am suspect it was because she was pretty, sweet and innocent. I was none of those. Today the media would have shown the hot head dad and not the sweet mom, but that was a different journalistic era.
After Clay was home and healing Bud and I took our show on the road. We went everywhere but had limited success. My horrific customer service had finally upset my customers enough to turn them against me. In the months I was learning to fly I was out of touch with them. They had my office phone only and I was rarely in. I did have an answering machine but it was rare that I would return a call. Their computer problems were ignored and they'd had enough of me. The tight association of executive recruiters sent fax alerts to their members warning I wasn't dependable. Not something I could argue. I was serious abut not multitasking. I invested more than a year developing this software and had barely reached into the lucrative market at the point I destroyed my credibility. This negligence was so wrong I'm still upset with myself over it. Worst of all I hurt my family through the financial loss, all because I wanted to learn to fly.