The Awakening by me Prologue I stood there on my balcony, witnessing the violence and rioting in the streets below. I watched as young men in the throes of passionate hatred gripped one another and shed the blood of those who might have been their friends in a variety of other settings. What drove them to view one another with such hatred? It was materialism and mistrust. Each viewed the other as a competitor in an all-or-nothing battle. They divided over petty differences that drove a wedge between every one of them, though they had more in common than they’d admit. As the fighting continued, memories of my youth flooded my mind. I used to be like them. I was so self-absorbed that my entire universe extended no further than me. I could not appreciate the miracles of nature around me or grasp the kindness of others. I was incapable of appreciating the suffering all around me let alone pain in other parts of the world. None of that mattered. The only thing I cared about was the preservation and augmentation of my success. I lived that way for decades. My life was thoroughly entrenched in material gain and pleasure. I wasnt interested in family. For that reason, I strictly avoided serious relationships with women. I viewed them as objects of pleasure and took great pains to distance myself from them when they mentioned commitment. My immediate family was an inconvenience to me. I reluctantly went to reunions only after one of my siblings put the pressure on and shamed me for being aloof. I despised family functions, because they interrupted my plans. They were never convenient. Holidays were a pain in the ass. My idea of a good holiday was to spend it alone or with an attractive woman. Such was the case in my fortieth year. I received the usual call at 3:20 PM, the Saturday before Thanksgiving, a holiday I loathed above all others. On the other end of the line was my sister, Mary. I expected her to put the pressure on about coming home. I was ready for an argument, but her message was different this time. Her voice broke as she announced that our parents were killed the night before by a drunk driver. I barely heard anything Mary said afterward. Instead of listening and communicating, I mumbled and nodded my head in agreement about the funeral. After a few minutes, Mary hung up and I sat down stunned. Until now, I had taken my parents for granted. I assumed they would live long lives. Dad was 62 and mom was 60. Now they were gone forever. I wasnt prepared for the sudden deprivation of their love. I hadnt really known I needed it until then, but it was suddenly gone and I felt an aching emptiness for the first time in my life. Suddenly, my confidence was shaken. I didnt know if I believed what I had just heard. Life without my parents? What would that be like? Part 1: Implosion Plans We met at mom and dad’s house on Sunday. When I arrived, all my siblings had been there for hours. Mary met me at the door and threw her arms around me. I returned the embrace numbly. She led me to the great room, where everyone else had gathered. My brothers, Daniel and Gerald, were accompanied by their families. My other sister, Ellen was there with her husband. The conversations were low key and reflective. One minute, everyone shared a funny memory about our parents and laughed. Then, someone talked about the accident and weeping ensued. Our parents were lovely people. I didn’t like family gatherings, but that was no reflection on them. They were the best kind of parents one could have. They were strict when we were children, but they loved us and gave us lasting memories. When we were grown up, they became our friends. I didn’t understand why then, but I didn’t appreciate that love to its fullest. I took it for granted and assumed it would always be there. I never imagined it would be ripped away from me by someone I didn’t know. For years, I ignored their invitations to family events and resented the imposition. My parents knew I had issues, but their love for me never failed. My siblings weren’t so understanding. They resented my behavior and accused me of callous disrespect. I half expected them to ask what I why I bothered to show up, but they all took turns thanking me for coming. Their kindness threw me off guard. I didn’t know how to respond to it, and I found myself wishing they had behaved according to my expectations. I sat silently while they talked. We had a memorial service and a funeral to plan. We had a meeting downtown at the law firm of Gibson, Thomas and Collins on Tuesday. We’d bury our parents on Friday. The realization that all of these plans would unfold in less than a week was more than I could handle. I wanted to leave, but that wouldn’t have been good form. We didn’t have to worry about burial expenses. Our parents had already taken care of that years ago. They didn’t have the finest things in life, but they had enough, they thought ahead and were happy. As they grew older, they set money aside for us. They wanted to leave each of us with a little help to work toward our dreams. I was too selfish to appreciate how much they sacrificed, but I knew I missed them. I drove home in a state between denial and rage. I wanted to believe my parents were still alive, but I knew they weren’t. I thought of the drunk driver who hit them. Who was he? I wanted to meet him in a dark alley and return the favor. As I drove through the darkened streets, I saw my parent’s faces a thousand times. Memories of my childhood came racing forward and presented themselves as if they had just happened. I wept as I drove, but I wouldn’t have known it if my tears hadn’t made it hard to see. I got home, went straight to bed and fell asleep immediately. I didn’t dream about anything. Perhaps that was a blessing. I needed to close my eyes and fall completely unconscious. I desperately had to forget everything that ever happened to me and take refuge in a state of nonexistence for a few hours. The week ahead would be hard enough. The alarm went off at 6:00 AM. It was time for work, and I got up as if nothing had changed since Friday. I was ready to go into the office and dive into my projects. By the time I finished breakfast, however, I knew I couldn’t go back to work this week. I was already dressed in my professional attire when I called the office and let my boss know what happened. He told me to take two weeks off, and not to think about work in the meantime. Until that moment, I had never thought of my boss as a kind person. I wanted to go in the following week, but he said I needed the extra time to gather my thoughts and reflect. I suspected he was right, but I had no idea how accurate his insights were. They were prescient. I exchanged my work clothes for some jeans, a sweat shirt and my sneakers. Tomorrow, I’d meet with my siblings at Gibson, Thomas and Collins. On Wednesday, we’d have a memorial service for my parents. On Thursday, we’d have Thanksgiving and remember our parents. On Friday, we’d say goodbye to them at the cemetery. Today was my last peaceful day before descending into what I considered hell. I loved my parents, but why did I have to say goodbye to them with everyone else? Why couldn’t I do it by myself? I didn’t like my siblings, and I knew they didn’t like me. The fact that they were nice to me on Sunday was just the thing to do on these occasions. If I dropped dead today, they wouldn’t miss me at all. The more I thought about it, the angrier I became. Instead of mourning for my lost parents, I found myself gnashing my teeth at my brothers and sisters. All of them thought they were so much better than me, the middle misfit. They had all taken turns scolding me over the years for my “selfish behavior.” To hell with them! Now that mom and dad were gone, why did I ever have to see my brothers and sisters again? I began to formulate my own plan. I’d say goodbye to mom and dad, but not with those people. They had always seen me as an embarrassment to the family. Id memorialize my parents in my own way and visit their grave in my own time — not with their other children. They’d never see me again. Flight My successful career as a sales manager gave me options that most people can only imagine. I could work anywhere. My reputation proceeded me around the country and I was also known in international markets. I had cushy checking and savings accounts, along with several stock options. While I was never satisfied with the amount of money I had, it was more than enough to take me anywhere I wanted to go. By Monday afternoon, I had written a letter of resignation to my boss. I informed him that I would send for my possessions later. I had also booked a reservation to fly out to Seattle, and secured a lease on an apartment. I’d have a moving company ship my things out in two weeks. I went to an auto dealer that afternoon and sold my car. By 11:30 PM, I was on a red-eye flight from Tampa, Florida to Seattle, Washington. I made up my mind never to live in Florida again. I had a long layover in Phoenix, Arizona. The flight from there to Seattle was delayed well into the next morning, so I had plenty of time to realize just how little I wanted to stay in that desert. Even in November, it was hotter than Florida. Thankfully, I never had to set foot outside that airport, but when I saw the heat shimmering off the tarmac, I knew I didn’t want to stick around. I arrived in Seattle at 2:30 PM on Tuesday. By now, the family had met at Gibson, Thomas and Collins. I was pretty sure they already knew I wasn’t interested in meeting them. It didn’t occur to me in that moment, that the message I really sent out was a total lack of interest in the last wishes of our parents. I’d find that out only after a long list of tumultuous events led to my reconciliation with the family. The pain I caused with my departure was so deep it devastated the community. I began my new life in a high-rise, downtown apartment that overlooked Puget Sound. Before the day was out, I made a pitch to Golding Analytics. I had heard of them for years, but now I wanted to work for them. They knew who I was and they were eager to hire me. We scheduled an interview for the Monday after Thanksgiving. I resolved in my mind to transform that company into a huge success story, and cash in later. My goal was to make the majority of my income from capital gains. Within five years, I wanted to leave my status as a payroll worker for the executive ranks, reaping the rewards of my talent. Being a sales manager was nice enough, but it wasn’t going to be a satisfactory place to park my career. I had to make an aggressive move and Golding Analytics was just the place to make it. Wednesday came around, and I realized I had missed the memorial service. I sat alone in my new apartment, looked out over Puget Sound and reflected on the good memories my parents left me. I tried to tune my brothers and sisters, but that was impossible. In fact every good recollection I had with my parents was inextricably linked to my siblings. As if I could dismiss them with speech, I spoke out loud to mom and dad, saying I missed them and would honor them always. My words rang hollow. Thursday was a crappy day. The Farmer’s Market, most of the stores and all the restaurants were closed for Thanksgiving. In a growing rage, I cursed out loud. A few pedestrians heard me, and stared at me as if I were out of my mind. At that moment, I was! I screamed at my brothers and sisters. One by one, I uttered profanities, expletives and curses around their names as I recounted the angry moments I had experienced with each of them. Eventually, I found a bar and decided to drink away Thanksgiving. With my first drink I turned around and bellowed, “Here’s to the gotdamned turkey that escaped my gullet. Gobble! Gobble!” Everyone laughed their asses off as I threw it back. I reveled in the positive attention and got sillier every time I tipped my elbow. By 3:00 AM, I was thoroughly wasted. I stumbled out of the bar to find my way back to my apartment. I was so plastered, however, that I forgot where I lived. I ended up asking perfect strangers if they knew. They recommended I go to the police and find out. After what seemed like an hour, I found a bench and fell asleep. I awoke to the thumping of bitter-cold rain slapping my face. In November, Seattle can go from pleasantly warm to bitter cold in hours. This weather was something between the two extremes. It wasn’t freezing, but it was cold enough to get hypothermia if you were wet and exposed to the elements. When I attempted to get up and walk, I realized I had a raging hangover. I had no earthly idea where I was. How far had I wandered from home? Fortunately, I now had the presence of mind to remember my street address. I stopped a stranger to ask how far I was from it. He told me it was about three miles away. I thanked him and turned around to start my journey home. Initially, I didn’t think it was too far to walk, but every step I took pounded the inside of my head along with the pavement below in a mind-shattering reverb. I walked two or three blocks before the nausea hit me, and then I had to hail a cab. He had me home in less than ten minutes. My apartment building was a welcoming sight, but when I stepped into my pad, I realized I had slept through my parents’ funeral in a stupor. How disrespectful! That realization stained my soul with indelible shame. Interview I showed up for my interview with Golding Analytics fifteen minutes ahead of schedule. I was prepared to dazzle them with my answers. I had an exceptional portfolio of projects and a host of glowing references and success stories. To my way of thinking, they needed the skill and experience I brought to the table. I knew they were advertising for a sales director, and I was their man. When they called me in, I almost leaped out of my chair. My game face was on. I was ready for battle. “Good morning Mr. Jameson,” said the lead interviewer, “We’ve been looking forward to this interview. My name is John Williams. While I’m at it, I’ll introduce the team to you. On my left are Judy Aims and Jeannie Roberts. On my right are Jim Adkins and Bill Morris. “I’m very pleased to meet all of you,” I answered. “You can call me Tim.” “Well let’s get started. I know you’re a busy man so we won’t waste your time,” said John, “Before we get too deeply into this interview, do you have any questions to ask?” I knew this question was the first step in eliminating candidates who lack self-initiative. Hiring committees look for people who demonstrate an interest in going to work and generating profit. Candidate who have nothing to ask haven’t taken the time to think about the position or the responsibilities around it. In essence, their lack of questions demonstrates that they are unfit for a job that requires the inquisitive mind of a self-starter. A sales director who fails to ask questions subjects his company to many unpleasant suprises. “Yes,” I said, “What is it you hope to achieve over the next quarter, the next year and the next five years?” “One thing we want to do is expand our portfolio of clientele,” said Judy, “By the end of this quarter, we’d like to add at least one or two new accounts. A year from now, we’d like to add ten accounts. In five years, we’d like be a Fortune 500 company with at least 100 accounts. We’re going to need an aggressive sales director. Do you think you’re up for the job?” “I know I am,” I answered, “I’ve been in this field for a long time and I have worked with a lot of great people to accomplish some great things. I helped a struggling start-up in Florida become a small-to-midsize business and then nurtured it until it became an enterprise-level corporation that hired hundreds of people in Tampa Bay.” “That sounds impressive,” said Jeannie, “How will you repeat this success at Golding Analytics?” “It’s pretty easy,” I said, “I’ve watched your company for several years. Your business intelligence and reporting is the best in the industry. With the product you offer, I know I can generate widespread interest across several industries. Furthermore, I believe Golding is at the cusp of a Halcion age. We’re in an economic recovery that has just begun, and businesses are struggling to find the answers. You have the answers they need. All I need to do is get out there and help them see what they’re missing. That is my specialty.” “I’m curious, Tim,” asked Jim, “Why did you leave your last company?” Here was another question that was loaded for bear. I knew it and I was ready. “I was with my last company for ten years, and I loved every moment of it,” I answered, “But I knew I wanted to move on to something greater, not just for myself but to lead others into a brighter future. While my company offered a fine product, I saw Golding Analytics as the path I wanted to pursue for the rest of my career. Frankly, I want to become a chief executive within your ranks and make a real difference, but I’ll be happy to show you how it’s done first as a sales director.” “Do you think you’re ready to be a sales director? It’s an order of magnitude up from sales manager?” asked Bill, “You’re going to have a lot more responsibility on your plate and no one is going to tell you how to do your job. It will be a lonely place.” “I’m not only ready,” I said, “I want the challenge. I’m ready to show off Golding Analytics as if it were my own company. If you hire me, I’ll make it my own. I promise that. Golding’s success will become my success. Bank on it.” “Well Tim,” said John, “We’re running out of time, but I need to ask you what your expectations are for salary and benefits.” This question was the final snare. Even the most qualified candidates fall into trap one by focusing on answers that show they are not concerned about generating profit. “I want to start by making $250,000 this year,” I said, “Then I want to increase that income potential to a million dollars in the next two or three years and much more in the years following that. I’ll be worth a lot more than that to Golding.” “Tim, we need more strategic thinkers like you,” said John, “Can you come back for a second interview tomorrow?” “Absolutely,” I said, “When you do want to meet?” “Let’s shoot for 8:30 AM,” said John, “Will that work for you?” “Positively,” I answered, “I’ll be here. Thank you.” “Thank you, Tim,” said John, “I’m looking forward to seeing what we can do together.” “Me too,” I said. The interview was over and everyone left the room, but one of them caught my eye as she left. Jeannie looked vaguely familiar. I couldn’t tell where I had seen her. Her features were strikingly similar to someone I recently met, but I couldn’t place her. Recognizing that I was working hard to recall her, she grimaced and left the room in a hurry. That display gave me an uneasy feeling. Everyone else was impressed, but what about Jeannie?
Posted on: Tue, 12 Nov 2013 00:47:27 +0000
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