A Friend In Need

Brad Pitt called me last Saturday night.  Was I busy? he asked.  No, Brad, this is fine I said, putting down the shoe I was shining.  Then he just launched right into it.  He said he thought he might have made a mistake being with Angelina.  He said he was so confused and felt directionless.  Listen, I said, maybe you just need a little time for yourself.  Get out of the limelight for a bit I suggested.  I told him the best thing he could do is put the movies on hold and volunteer in a sanatorium in South America where no one would recognize him.  Once he cleared his head of all that Hollywood-hype garbage he would regain his equilibrium and with any luck maybe Angelina would be a little easier on him when he got back. 

Around noon the next day I got a call from Martha Stewart.  I had just finished putting the laundry on when she rang.  She said that while she was in prison she was thinking about the crowd she used to hang out with, wondering if maybe she should move on, you know, start anew so to speak.  I told her that was a good idea.  Martha, I said, get to know some real people.  Who gives a hoot about how big So and So’s estate is or if Mr. Ego Manic’s company is valued at $50 billion?  And another thing, I said, take some of your dough and do something for underprivileged women who have had a tough time making ends meet.  She wanted to jabber, but I told her I had to reply to a long list of emails that were flooding my account.  She went silent, so I softened up and said we could have lunch in the city where she could have my full attention.

Then, just before dinner, as I was replacing a burned out light in the kitchen, my wife told me that Barry Bonds was calling from San Francisco.  Barry had first connected with me four or five years ago when he learned I was a huge Willie Mays fan growing up.  Mays, of course, is Bonds’ godfather.  He said with all the confessions going on he wondered what he should do or say about the whole steroids controversy.  I said, Barry, you have to address it because otherwise you will be forever known as Mr. Asterisk, and he didn’t want that.  Fess up, I advised, and take his medicine like a man.  I could tell he didn’t like what I had said, but he mumbled something back and I thought I detected a sob.

Monday I was watching the late night news when Bill Clinton called for a second time.  I hadn’t talked with Bill in a while.  He had left a message on the answering machine earlier in the day saying that he needed to talk with me about a proposition he was considering.  Now that he had me on the line he explained that he was being offered the presidency of Yale and wondered if he should take it.  I reminded him of Eisenhower running Columbia and Wilson at Princeton, and said it would be a good thing.  He insisted on going over all the pluses and minuses in gory detail, so I just cradled the phone on my shoulder and listened while ironing a pile of shirts.

Bright and early Tuesday morning, I mean really early, like 5:10, I was awakened by the harsh ringing of our bedside phone.  It was Prince Charles.  He apologized about the hour, but said he desperately needed some advice.  Camilla was driving him nuts.  So he’s thinking of divorce.  How would the public react?  Blah, blah, blah.  I told him he should try some counseling and not worry about all the bloodthirsty press hounds that trip over themselves covering the Royal family.  The Royals are simply the longest running reality show I said.  And while we’re at it, I added, get Harry into something productive.  Anything really.  You know, work at a local department store or fast food restaurant.

Wednesday I was at the car dealership having the oil changed when one of the attendants told me that Woody Allen was holding for me on the manager’s private line.  I said you’re kidding and stepped into the small office.  Woody apologized for the crazy call and explained that my wife told him where he could find me.  Anyway, Woody told me he was working on a new movie project about what else, love and death, and wanted to know if he should use Meryl Streep or Anjelica Huston in the lead role.  He had to make a decision in the next hour.  I told him I was always partial to Streep, but hoped that for once Tony Roberts would not be in the film.  The way he said no made me think he was planning to put Roberts in it, but now I think he’s going to look for someone else.

On Thursday evening I had just dropped into my favorite chair in the den to thumb through some magazines when, wouldn’t you know, my youngest daughter came in and with a quizzical look said someone named Jeff Bezos was on the phone.  Taking the handset, I asked if he could call me back over the weekend, but he said not really, it was urgent.  I just smiled, shook my head toward no one in particular, and said fire away.

When Opportunity Calls

(Updated from an earlier published work.)

Every once in a while, I will get a phone call totally out of the blue from an executive recruiter (a.k.a. headhunter) asking if I'd be interested in an exciting new job opportunity. Typically I answer "yes" because you never know if someone might offer you a job as a TV talk show host, which over the last five years has easily been the fastest growing job on the market.

But this column isn't about being a talk show host, it's about headhunting, or what has euphemistically become known as "executive search."

Executive search is, a $3 billion business---and growing---with 2,000 search firms employing a staggering 13,000 headhunters. It’s no wonder you can't find a plumber these days, they've all gone into finding jobs for others rather than finding clogs in toilets.

Years ago, headhunters were an employer's last resort, the final option when all else had failed. Now headhunters are involved in about 20 percent of all managerial and executive hiring. Which means either headhunters have gained respectability, as they themselves suggest, or a large percentage of our corporations are more desperate than we thought.

It's no secret how headhunters find their prospects; they network. What I mean is that they make a few contacts in an industry and then ask each of these contacts to give them the names of a half dozen or so other contacts, and so on and so on. Pretty soon they have a database as large as the Philippine phonebook, and about as relevant. What qualifies you to be in this giant employee chain letter is that someone has certified that you are, indeed, part of humanity.

Despite all the rhetoric, in reality job placement is a numbers game and most headhunters are governed by the Rule of Three’s. Generally, a headhunter will contact three people for every one he interviews. He will interview three for each candidate he introduces to the hiring company. And he will usually offer the company three candidates from which it can choose. Spot Quiz: If you can tell me how many people the headhunter contacts for each job, you are qualified to run a Fortune 500 company.

If a headhunter contacts you, don't be flattered too quickly, it may simply be the day he calls everyone whose last name begins with your initial. Also, don't mistake the headhunter's call as the job offer itself. This is just the start of the screening process. In other words, if the headhunter says he is calling on behalf of a client in Los Angeles, you shouldn't rush out and immediately sell your house.

Headhunters say they like prospects that are conversant on the phone, not just listeners. They recommend you ask them at least as many questions as they ask you. This can become tricky, however, since the last thing you want to have happen is have the phone call sound like a session with Dr. Joyce Brothers.

If you get an interview with a company and a job offer is extended, the role of the headhunter changes. The headhunter becomes your advocate, working to help you secure the best deal possible. He does this not because he is a really great guy, but because he has an incentive, namely his commission, which is usually a percentage of your new pay. Of course for him to get anything you have to take the job. For this reason, if you decide to refuse the offer, it is wise to immediately enter the Federal Witness Protection Program.

Finally, since you never know when a headhunter may call, be prepared. Take me, for instance: I already know that I want Alec Baldwin, Jessica Biel, and Robin Williams as guests on my first show.

City Guy In The 'Burbs

Episode 1

Back in 1975 I ventured out of the city to attend graduate school in the country. My version of the classic Aesop Fable story. I got an apartment, although it wasn’t like any apartment that I knew. One story. No fire escape. Mail slot in front door instead of mail box in hallway.

Shortly after moving in I wanted to hang a picture in the living room and so I went to the local hardware store. When I walked through the front doors it was like entering Little Shop of Horrors. I was immediately overwhelmed with a hanging display of chain saws, rakes, edgers, hoes, and other instruments that I more naturally equated with slasher films than landscape beautification.

I didn’t want to broadcast my ignorance in such things, so I nonchalantly roamed around the store looking at all the crazy stuff (I never realized there were that many varieties of plungers) while searching for nails. In the aisles men, mostly in plaid shirts and jeans, were picking up various tools and sizing them up. You know, gripping them, weighing them in their hands, making little motions like they were using them, and so forth. I did the same. Meanwhile, there were other men in the back part of the store pulling out innumerable little trays containing nuts, bolts, clamps, and who knows what, and eying them like a Tiffany jeweler looks at precious stones. I observed, careful not to weird anyone out by getting too close. I found where the nails were kept, made my selection, and headed to the counter. Where I immediately gave myself away.

At the counter, the clerk said, “You want to buy one nail?”

“Yes,” I said, “I’m hanging a picture.”

“We sell nails by the pound,” he said.

“You mean like Boar’s Head?” I said.

“What?” he said, not getting my joking reference to my favorite brand of cold cuts.

So I slunk back to the nail section and threw a large handful in a brown bag. I left the store with the nails, a small red toolbox, and a hammer. All three, including the bag of nails, minus a few, are in my basement today.  After all these years in suburbia whenever I have a home maintenance issue my first option is still to call "the man."

The Menace of Increased Productivity

(Updated from an earlier published work.)

Once I heard business guru Tom Peters talk about a study involving a major insurance company in which it was discovered that during the three weeks it took to process an average claim a total of only 17 minutes of productive work was expended.  This was exceedingly shocking to me because, having been employed at one time by a large metropolitan insurance company, I thought the more accurate figure was about six minutes.

Of course, if you've spent any time at all in the business world you know that Peters' example is not an isolated case but rather it approaches the norm.  Government bureaucracies have not cornered the market on waste, they just can't hide it as well.  Private corporations also have vast numbers of employees whose main service to society is that they are not out on the streets breaking into people's homes.

The old adage is correct -- 20 percent of the people do 80 percent of the work.  Take salesmen, for instance.  For every salesman who is out there closing a sale, there are four others who are spending the day at the airport trying to figure out how to get from Kansas City to Toledo and why.

Likewise, if you walk into a bank these days, what you are likely to see is one teller explaining money market accounts to a confused customer while the other employees are making towers with all of the coins in their drawers.

How, in this land where only the fittest are supposed to survive, do we end up with so many useless workers?

The answer is productivity.  More specifically, the 20 percent who are truly working are producing too much.  Their output is covering for the rest of the work force, whose major accomplishment each day is that they showed up.

A case in point.  By inventing a  machine that will do the work of 100 men, the productive minority  may be increasing the wealth of the nation, but they are also turning loose 99 guys on us who now have nothing better to do than to stroll around the office signing up boosters for their children's soccer teams.

Look what productivity did to the family farmer!  It has virtually put him out of business.  With machinery doing all the demanding tasks, the descendants of once proud farming clans have so much time on their hands they hang around the market thinking up silly things to do, like organizing protests at which they will spill large quantities of perfectly good milk or planning marches on Washington to ask Congress to pay them to not produce anything at all.

Productivity has hurt industrial workers as well.  Take autoworkers.  In trying to recapture the market share it lost to the Japanese, the Big Three car makers modernized their assembly lines and brought in robots to do the work.  The robots have performed so well, and are generally so much easier to get along with, that their human counterparts aren't needed anymore.  In fact, there are only a handful of autoworkers left in the country and the only thing they do is car commercials on TV.

Face it, the way technology is advancing and machines are replacing humans in the workplace, pretty soon there won't be any work left for any of us.  Who knows, maybe then we'll all be marching on Washington demanding to be paid for not working. 

All Decked Out

In order to get the business we had to put together a really great deck.  Which we did.  I mean it was the mother of all decks.  Our deck was 75 slides of blow-‘em-away strategy, insight, and recommendations.  We heard the other competitors’ decks were pretty good too, but our deck was the best deck the client had seen in quite a while.


After we were awarded the business, which we were told would be a true “partnership,” not the usual “vendor relationship,” the first thing we did was produce a mini deck of our proposal, which we presented to the divisional managers who would benefit from our work. Each mini deck was modified to appeal to the corresponding manager by focusing on his specific “issues” and showed how our work would “integrate” with his efforts.  Almost all of these managers then asked if we could create a C-level deck of no more than three slides which they could use for upcoming meetings with, well, C-level executives.


After this, we presented a kick-off deck to the client team to lay out our project plan.  We explained that our first deliverable would be a strategy deck outlining how we would approach the key business concerns.  Our strategy deck was presented a few weeks later and provided a 30,000 foot view of the situation.  The deck pointed out low hanging fruit.  It also identified problem areas that were tough nuts to crack.  We typically refer to our strategy deck as the fruit and nuts deck.

Our next deliverable was the research and analysis deck.  This deck talked about how we created a 360^o view of the client’s customers.  This was important because the company was trying to reverse its recent performance 180 degrees.  Of course, the analysis wasn’t just a compilation of “nice-to-knows;” it was “actionable.”   The client said, and I quote, “This is really good stuff.” 

Right after the research and analysis deck we interviewed a group of senior managers and then presented to them the SWOT deck, you know, Strengths, Weaknesses, Opportunities, and Threats.  We like the SWOT deck because it creates kind of a strategic landscape in a four box matrix.  Hey, what’s a consultant without a four box matrix?  The SWOT deck went over very well and we saw heads nodding in agreement, although none of the managers actually said anything.  Our presentation ran into lunchtime and everyone just took off.

Our marketing team then followed up with a series of creative decks that described the various campaigns that would be launched.  For instance, one deck dealt with our mass media coverage.  Another dealt with the whole online/offline advertising tradeoff.  I mean online is where it’s going, but its not there yet.  And we’re not even talking about interactive media.  A third deck dealt with guerilla marketing.  The managers looked a little puzzled after this last one, but our client said it didn’t matter because he didn’t get any “pushback.”   

Separate decks were also prepared for B-to-B, B-to-C, and 1-to-1 programs.  All of the decks contained pro formas with projections of CPL, CPO, and ROI based on cost estimates expressed in CPM.  Unfortunately, because of the confusion over these metrics we were asked to create a metrics deck explaining our measurement methodology.  We did that, and it must have been spot on because we never heard about it again.

Eight months into the year, with the front end planning done, we put the programs into the market and started monitoring the back end.  Tracking reports were generated on a 30-60-90 day schedule with roll ups and roll downs.  All these results were put in results decks and distributed to the key stakeholders.  The funny thing is some of the stakeholders weren’t aware they were stakeholders until they got their deck.  We also found out that two of the stakeholders had changed jobs.

Each month we also disseminated business trend information in status decks.  These reports concentrated on “incremental” results.  However, because the programs had just started, most of the results were preliminary and we cautioned about reading into them and jumping to conclusions too quickly.  The managers felt better when we told them that in a few months we’d go back and do a “deep dive” on everything.

We paid off this promise when we delivered the learnings deck.  The learnings deck is a comprehensive summary of everything that was tested and learned during the year.  This deck is really critical since most of the time no one can remember what was learned.  Once we showed the client team members what was learned in the learnings deck, they were impressed.

As a companion to the learnings deck we produced the Year-in-Review deck.  This deck is different than the learnings deck in that the Year-in-Review deck is a top down overview of the year’s activities, while the learnings deck is a bottom up assessment of tactics.  Having both a top down and bottom up assessment means you’ve got everything covered.    

Incredibly it has now been a year since we won the business.  The company’s performance hasn’t changed much, if you don’t count the small dip in the last month.  Unfortunately, the client said he’s got to shake things up.  In fact, we’ve got to re-pitch the business.  The competition is likely to be really tough, so we’ve begun putting together a really great deck.  This deck is even better than last year’s deck, so I think we’ve got a good shot at keeping the business.

Seeing Is Believing

Woman sees image of Jesus on iron.  Until this week, Mary Jo Coady had never given her iron a second thought.  Then she saw a likeness of Jesus staring back from its not-quite stainless steel bottom.  (Boston Globe, November 28, 2009, B1.)

I don’t know what to say.  I was just making a leafy salad and all of a sudden there he was staring at me as clear as day.  My savior, the light of the world.  I got a chill at first and then a warm feeling spread through my body.  Why did this happen to me I wondered?  I’m just an ordinary person, you know, no one special.

The more I thought about it though the more it reminded me of little Bernadette who saw the Blessed Virgin at Lourdes or those three kids who saw her at Fatima.  I suppose I’m now like them, one of the chosen ones to bear witness.  I was really moved.  The next thing I thought was the gals in the knitting club were going to flip f-l-i-p flip when I showed them.

Here take a look at the salad.  I’ve kept it just as it was in the mixing bowl I was using.  I haven’t touched it at all because, who knows, it may be holy by now.  After the initial shock I decided to call my parish priest, Father George, and he said he’d be right over after the game he was watching on TV was done.  I think it was a basketball game or maybe baseball.  Or else it was golf.  Yes, I think it was golf.  I haven’t seen him yet though.  He probably had an emergency.

I wanted to preserve the image right away so I took some Saran wrap and stretched it across the bowl.  I made sure it was good and tight so no more air would get in and wilt it.  Look at it - you can’t see a wrinkle!  It’s like the glass they now have protecting the Pietà.  You remember that nutcase who tried to destroy it with an ax or a hammer or something?  Maybe it was a baseball bat.  Do they play baseball in Italy?  Maybe it was a golf club, I don’t know.

So look at the salad from this angle.  You see the red leaf lettuce there is his hair.  It’s all wavy and long just the way he wore it.  The right side is a bit longer than the left, but you know they didn’t have barber shops in those days, right, so he probably cut his own hair and you know how hard it is to do that and get it even.  I can imagine him holding up a little mirror and trying to trim the sides. It’s difficult to get the scissors angled in the right direction when you are looking into a mirror.  Half the time you snip and you get nothing.  So that’s what I think happened.

And those two little grape tomatoes right there, see where I’m pointing, those are his eyes.  They look so knowing and gentle like in all his pictures.  When I looked into those eyes, I mean truly looked into them, I knew this was for real.  The left one, well actually his right eye if you’re him looking out from the salad, is aimed a little bit to the right while the other one kinda looks the other way, but just a little.

The chopped cucumber, which I just threw into the bowl willy nilly, are his teeth and, mercy be, they’re all in a row, not jagged or anything.  In fact, they’re perfect.  It’s like he had orthodontic work or whatever they did then.  My guess is whatever he had done it was probably around the time he lectured to the elders in the temple because he was twelve then.  Can you imagine?  I bet they thought he was some bright kid.  You know, a regular Einstein.

The strip of green pepper is his nose.  It’s very straight except at the end where it bends to the left.  I’m sure he had a straight nose, so I think what’s going on here is that he’s grinning, you know, because you can see all his cucumber teeth and his grin is pulling the lower part of his nose over.  That happens to a lot of people.  It happens to my Floyd even.  Maybe he was thinking of something funny or maybe the Blessed Virgin was telling a story or something that made him grin.  I don’t know but it’s kinda cute.

And the croutons are his beard of course.  They are grizzly and rough like a beard would be and come to a point just at the right spot.  You know before I noticed the image I almost ate one of the croutons.  I might have ruined it.  But something stopped me just in time, like when Mrs. Gerrity decided not to take that bus trip because of a strange feeling she had and the bus went into a ditch.  Divine intervention that’s what it was. 

Anyway, this whole thing is a miracle all right. 

Welcome to Fresh Paving!

Fresh Paving is my new blog and home to my humor writing.  I will be posting articles and other pieces to this site on an intermittent (and probably erratic) basis, so visit my blog from time to time and with luck you'll find something new.  Most of these posts will be "fresh" material, but occasionally I may throw in a prior work that never got its due or an updated version of same said piece.

Some of these offerings will be magazine-length articles, mostly non-biographical.  They will be on topics that somehow tickled my fancy.  And if there's anywhere you want to be tickled, it's there.  They will likely be longer (relatively speaking), but I hope they will keep your interest.  However, I also intend to post shorter pieces that will be a combination of brief thoughts, observations, and scratchings from something I'm calling The Sporadic Diary.  Watch for the occasional running series too.  For instance, City Guy In The 'Burbs will be episodic postings from you know who about you know what.  Capish? See, right there, that's a city guy expression.  I probably first heard that on Zerega Avenue in the Bronx in the '60s when on an errand for my mother to get cold cuts and cheese from Sal's Market.   

Anyway, I hope you will be amused and will return frequently.  And tell your friends to visit too.  I'm looking for followers.  Not like David Koresh, but in the more modern sense.  Being somewhat of a numerologist as well, I have a target number in mind.  It's a large number....I like an ambitious goal...so get others to sign up if you can.

Oh, yeah, why Fresh Paving?  Well, as a biker (the Lance Armstrong kind, not Hell's Angels) I've come to really appreciate a freshly paved road.  In fact, I seek them out.  Which explains why you might see me riding furiously around and around in some stretch of town that has recently undergone the hot asphalt and steam roller treatment.  I'm sure I've left some neighbors scratching their heads.  "Doesn't he know his way home?" they may be thinking.  If it comes up in conversation, tell anyone who asks that I'm okay.  Really, I am.

Well, new roads often mean new beginnings.  And I feel that, like a refurbished road, everyone deserves a shot at a new start.  Sometimes that's just what it takes to make all the difference.