I notice that as I type things (emails, comments on facebook, and blog posts), I have a nasty habit of typing the word "the" mixed around as "teh". It's not intentional and as you, the reader, spot them in my writings - please just ignore them.
You cooperation in this matter is appreciated.
Monday, January 31, 2011
Lets Backtrack - Part III
Finally on the plane to leave Las Vegas for my layover in Phoenix, I can now relax and try to catch some sleep. When I get to Phoenix, I'm going to have to scramble to find not only somebody to pick me up at the airport in KC, but I am going to have to get somebody to drive me back to Des Moines... I fear that I am in for some serious begging.
In Phoenix, I call my mom - no answer. I leave a message for her to call back, but at this point I really can't put all my eggs in one basket and so I immediately dial a reliable friend of mine. My buddy Ryan is easily one of the most generous, and dependable people I've ever been lucky enough to know and if anybody will be able to help me out of this jam - it's him. No answer there either, so I leave a message. Now I'm starting to worry. If I don't get a hold of somebody soon, I'm going to be boarding the plane with absolitely nobody lined up to get me from KCI when I arrive.
Then my mom calls back - thank goodness! Relieved that I can at least now talk to somebody and explain the situation (but still not looking forward to the inevitable begging) I start by letting her know my location and that my trip to Vegas was a resounding success. Once a pause in the conversation appears, I tactfully slip in with "Well so here's the deal... I kinda need your help on something." Probably no introduction could have been more ominous and as she braced herself for the worst possible news, I knew that I had played the cards perfectly. Considering all the awful scenarios going through her head at this moment, the truth would come as a relief and she would be so happy to help. Turns out, I was right! Ride from the airport = check. Ride back to Des Moines the next morning = check. Life is good.
Of course one of the major letdowns to my little fiasco is that there would be no way I'd make it to summer camp that week. Evening program was slated to start only an hour after I was scheduled to land. Not no way, not no how! But given how bad thing scould be, I figure I'm still coming out ahead on this deal.
As time ticked by and I drifted in and out of sleep, we finally started to get near the KC area. Even without a map or any real indicators, I could just tell by the terrain below that we had long passed over the mountains and were now above terra cognita. However, sharing the sky with us on that evening was a massive thunderstorm that had decided to camp out directly above the airport - which meant we'd be circling until it moved out.
After about three laps around, the pilot comes on and informs us that we may in fact have to divert to another airport to refuel and then come back and try again. Of course being the geographical wizard that I am, I quickly deduce that there are only three options for a plane of this size to safely land and refuel - Omaha, Wichita, and Des Moines. All three are of about an equal distance away for our present location, but I figured Omaha would probably be the more likely of the three. But man, wouldn't it just be my luck to actually have to land in Des Moines, only to not be able to get off the plane due to FAA regulations and whatnot. Lucky for me, I wouldn't have to endure any such taunt as the pilot came back and informed us that we would be heading to Omaha. Fair enough.
Heading north, I look out the window and spot the Missouri River below. A minute later I spot a city on the east bank, it only took a moment to realize it was St. Joseph, MO. If I was now looking down on St. Joe, then it would be matter of seconds before I was looking down at my SUMMER CAMP!!! There it was. In all it's glory. I could see the dining hall, the swimming pool, the parking lot, the shotgun range. In fact, this was right about the time I would have been arriving at camp via my car had everything gone according to schedule that morning. But here I was, fifteen thousand feet above all my friends who were no doubt busy getting preperations made for the program. I waved from my window, but something tells me that it went completely unnoticed...
Finally in Omaha, we get refueled and then we get the pleasure of just sitting on the tarmac. For anyone who's ever been stuck in that situation, you know much it sucks. You know that you are imprisoned in your seat, with nowhere to go, nothing to drink, the air coming out of the vents is stuffy and warm, which is really not helped by the heat of mid July. We endured the "Oven of Omaha" for an hour before we were finally given the go-ahead to head back to KC.
Forty minutes later we were landed in KC, I had my bags collected, and my mom was there to get me as promised. She was even sporting enough to treat me to nice dinner before getting back to the house. At 10:00pm that night, exhausted, I crashed. The next morning it was coffee, and then we hit the road for Des Moines.
Lessons learned:
- Never underestimate the binding power of family. Mom was my hero that day!
- Never book a flight from vegas in the morning. Bad idea.
- Most importantly, foreign relations are overrated and I am now a staunch isolationist!
In Phoenix, I call my mom - no answer. I leave a message for her to call back, but at this point I really can't put all my eggs in one basket and so I immediately dial a reliable friend of mine. My buddy Ryan is easily one of the most generous, and dependable people I've ever been lucky enough to know and if anybody will be able to help me out of this jam - it's him. No answer there either, so I leave a message. Now I'm starting to worry. If I don't get a hold of somebody soon, I'm going to be boarding the plane with absolitely nobody lined up to get me from KCI when I arrive.
Then my mom calls back - thank goodness! Relieved that I can at least now talk to somebody and explain the situation (but still not looking forward to the inevitable begging) I start by letting her know my location and that my trip to Vegas was a resounding success. Once a pause in the conversation appears, I tactfully slip in with "Well so here's the deal... I kinda need your help on something." Probably no introduction could have been more ominous and as she braced herself for the worst possible news, I knew that I had played the cards perfectly. Considering all the awful scenarios going through her head at this moment, the truth would come as a relief and she would be so happy to help. Turns out, I was right! Ride from the airport = check. Ride back to Des Moines the next morning = check. Life is good.
Of course one of the major letdowns to my little fiasco is that there would be no way I'd make it to summer camp that week. Evening program was slated to start only an hour after I was scheduled to land. Not no way, not no how! But given how bad thing scould be, I figure I'm still coming out ahead on this deal.
As time ticked by and I drifted in and out of sleep, we finally started to get near the KC area. Even without a map or any real indicators, I could just tell by the terrain below that we had long passed over the mountains and were now above terra cognita. However, sharing the sky with us on that evening was a massive thunderstorm that had decided to camp out directly above the airport - which meant we'd be circling until it moved out.
After about three laps around, the pilot comes on and informs us that we may in fact have to divert to another airport to refuel and then come back and try again. Of course being the geographical wizard that I am, I quickly deduce that there are only three options for a plane of this size to safely land and refuel - Omaha, Wichita, and Des Moines. All three are of about an equal distance away for our present location, but I figured Omaha would probably be the more likely of the three. But man, wouldn't it just be my luck to actually have to land in Des Moines, only to not be able to get off the plane due to FAA regulations and whatnot. Lucky for me, I wouldn't have to endure any such taunt as the pilot came back and informed us that we would be heading to Omaha. Fair enough.
Heading north, I look out the window and spot the Missouri River below. A minute later I spot a city on the east bank, it only took a moment to realize it was St. Joseph, MO. If I was now looking down on St. Joe, then it would be matter of seconds before I was looking down at my SUMMER CAMP!!! There it was. In all it's glory. I could see the dining hall, the swimming pool, the parking lot, the shotgun range. In fact, this was right about the time I would have been arriving at camp via my car had everything gone according to schedule that morning. But here I was, fifteen thousand feet above all my friends who were no doubt busy getting preperations made for the program. I waved from my window, but something tells me that it went completely unnoticed...
Finally in Omaha, we get refueled and then we get the pleasure of just sitting on the tarmac. For anyone who's ever been stuck in that situation, you know much it sucks. You know that you are imprisoned in your seat, with nowhere to go, nothing to drink, the air coming out of the vents is stuffy and warm, which is really not helped by the heat of mid July. We endured the "Oven of Omaha" for an hour before we were finally given the go-ahead to head back to KC.
Forty minutes later we were landed in KC, I had my bags collected, and my mom was there to get me as promised. She was even sporting enough to treat me to nice dinner before getting back to the house. At 10:00pm that night, exhausted, I crashed. The next morning it was coffee, and then we hit the road for Des Moines.
Lessons learned:
- Never underestimate the binding power of family. Mom was my hero that day!
- Never book a flight from vegas in the morning. Bad idea.
- Most importantly, foreign relations are overrated and I am now a staunch isolationist!
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Lets Backtrack - Part II
"Previously on Regular Mental Breakdowns: Dan travels to Las Vegas for a trade show where the contacts are good, but the drinks with a gang of foreigners are even better. Too many pints of 'Irish Medicine' and the next morning our hero has missed his flight back home. Will Dan be able to get back to the midwest, or will he be left stranded in Sin City?...."
"On to plan 'B'" is my only course of action on a groggy Friday morning after realizing that only 15 minutes remain for me to get dressed, packed, checkout out the hotel, taken to the airport, checked in, passed through security, and at the gate in time for me to make my flight back home from Las Vegas. The only trouble, was I had no "Plan B". The only thing I can do is get my carcass to the airport and hope like crazy that an alternate flight can be made.
Twenty minutes later I am showered, dressed, packed and stepping into a cab. Ten minutes after that I walk into the airport terminal - now comes the moment of truth. I call Cindy back at the office (she is the one who originally made my flight arrangements). I sheepishly fill her in on the fact that my flight is now thirty thousand feet in the air... without me. I ask if she can help track down another option. Ten minutes go by before she calls back to tell me taht the only flight to Des Moines for the day was the one I just missed. Drat! So up to the counter I go to see if I can't charm the ticket agent into helping me figure something else out.
Now, I don't know much about Thelma. I don't know where she grew up. I don't know if she has a family. I don't even know her last name. In fact, all I can really guess about her is that she is roughly 45 years old, african-american, stands about 5'7" and seems to take great pride in the good maintanence and grooming of her long fingernails. However one single fact about Thelma is certain; and that is that Thelma is working the ticketing counter of Allegiant Airlines on this day and because of that, she is about to become either my best friend or my nemesis.
As I approach the counter I lock eyes with Thelma and my lips crack into a wide smile as I get the old charm machine fired up. I explain my situation using a variety of maneuvers such as the boyish smile, the nervous eyebrow raise, a vulnerable laugh, and a calm and deep tone of voice. Years of experience have shown me that these tiny little nuances are in fact the deadliest weapons in my arsenal. But in this chess match, Thelma doesn't give anything away. Is she going to take pity on me? Is she going secretly delight in how screwed I am? Is she going to openly delight in how screwed I am? Then she looks at me, smiles, and says "You poor thing, lets see what we can find to get you home". Once again, the cunning predator has snared his prey.
After searching through the computer she finds one option: a flight to Kansas City with a stop in Phoenix. It's a long shot, but at this point I figure if I can at least get to KC, hopefully I can con somebody to driving me to Des Moines. "Lets go for it" I say. And with that she starts typing it up. However there is a problem. That flight to Phoenix leaves in only 25 minutes, she isn't sure she can get the ticket booked in time.
At this point, I know that Thelma is not only the ticketing agent at Allegiant Airlines, but that she is also now in my corner. What I didn't know, what I couldn't possibly know at that point, was that she was actually an angel, sent from above to find teh lost sheep and return him to the safety of the flock.
She commenced to flying across her keyboard, those fingernails darting down and striking with lethal, lightning precision at the keys. Thelma was a virtuoso, nothing short of Mozart working his craft. Then, "VICTORY"! She got it punched in just in time. We both shared in our success with a hi-five and I was on my way.
Running, frantically through McCarran, I flew through security, hopped the train and arrived at the gate just in time. I boarded, found my seat, and knew I could relax. The hard part was over.
Or so I thought...
... To be continued...
"On to plan 'B'" is my only course of action on a groggy Friday morning after realizing that only 15 minutes remain for me to get dressed, packed, checkout out the hotel, taken to the airport, checked in, passed through security, and at the gate in time for me to make my flight back home from Las Vegas. The only trouble, was I had no "Plan B". The only thing I can do is get my carcass to the airport and hope like crazy that an alternate flight can be made.
Twenty minutes later I am showered, dressed, packed and stepping into a cab. Ten minutes after that I walk into the airport terminal - now comes the moment of truth. I call Cindy back at the office (she is the one who originally made my flight arrangements). I sheepishly fill her in on the fact that my flight is now thirty thousand feet in the air... without me. I ask if she can help track down another option. Ten minutes go by before she calls back to tell me taht the only flight to Des Moines for the day was the one I just missed. Drat! So up to the counter I go to see if I can't charm the ticket agent into helping me figure something else out.
Now, I don't know much about Thelma. I don't know where she grew up. I don't know if she has a family. I don't even know her last name. In fact, all I can really guess about her is that she is roughly 45 years old, african-american, stands about 5'7" and seems to take great pride in the good maintanence and grooming of her long fingernails. However one single fact about Thelma is certain; and that is that Thelma is working the ticketing counter of Allegiant Airlines on this day and because of that, she is about to become either my best friend or my nemesis.
As I approach the counter I lock eyes with Thelma and my lips crack into a wide smile as I get the old charm machine fired up. I explain my situation using a variety of maneuvers such as the boyish smile, the nervous eyebrow raise, a vulnerable laugh, and a calm and deep tone of voice. Years of experience have shown me that these tiny little nuances are in fact the deadliest weapons in my arsenal. But in this chess match, Thelma doesn't give anything away. Is she going to take pity on me? Is she going secretly delight in how screwed I am? Is she going to openly delight in how screwed I am? Then she looks at me, smiles, and says "You poor thing, lets see what we can find to get you home". Once again, the cunning predator has snared his prey.
After searching through the computer she finds one option: a flight to Kansas City with a stop in Phoenix. It's a long shot, but at this point I figure if I can at least get to KC, hopefully I can con somebody to driving me to Des Moines. "Lets go for it" I say. And with that she starts typing it up. However there is a problem. That flight to Phoenix leaves in only 25 minutes, she isn't sure she can get the ticket booked in time.
At this point, I know that Thelma is not only the ticketing agent at Allegiant Airlines, but that she is also now in my corner. What I didn't know, what I couldn't possibly know at that point, was that she was actually an angel, sent from above to find teh lost sheep and return him to the safety of the flock.
She commenced to flying across her keyboard, those fingernails darting down and striking with lethal, lightning precision at the keys. Thelma was a virtuoso, nothing short of Mozart working his craft. Then, "VICTORY"! She got it punched in just in time. We both shared in our success with a hi-five and I was on my way.
Running, frantically through McCarran, I flew through security, hopped the train and arrived at the gate just in time. I boarded, found my seat, and knew I could relax. The hard part was over.
Or so I thought...
... To be continued...
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Lets Backtrack - Part I
This evening I enjoyed a night of good food, tasty beverages, great friends, and hilarious stories. One particular (mis)adventure of mine came into teh spotlight and I figure it's about time to let the world in. You may find it funny, you may not...
To begin, I must paint a bit of a backdrop. Every summer for the past coupel of years I had an arrangement with my employer to have six consecutive Friday's off of work so that I could volunteer at my old Boy Scout summer camp just north of St. Joseph, MO. This past summer, I was invited by a client of mine to attend the ICAST show in Las Vegas, which is the largest industry trade show for the sport fishing industry. The show fell on a Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday during camping season and I booked my travel such that I could still arrive back in Des Moines on Friday in time to drive down to camp for the evening program.
I flew into Vegas on Wednesday afternoon, checked into the hotel and grabbed a few winks before meeting up with my client for dinner and drinks afterwards. Dinner was good, drinks at the Hard Rock Casino were better (I spotted Blake Griffin and the lead singer from Journey). We called it a night at say... 10:oopm.
The next day I got up, got to the show with Ric (my client, and now my friend) and we spent the whole day walking the floor. I made a ton of great contacts and was feeling absolutely great about the whole trip. That evening was dinner and drinks again, but Ric started to not feel well so he cashed in early. On the way back to my hotel, still on a high from the success of the day, I decided to go ahead and walk over to the strip and check out the fountains at the Bellagio.
Standing in front of the giant bursts of water I thought "Hmm, I could go for a cold beer. Maybe a pint at an Irish pub would be good... New York, New York would probably be a good place for that!" And so I strolled down the strip a little ways (actually a long ways, one's sense of distance gets very skewed in Vegas), and finally found a great little joint called "Nine Fine Irishmen" at New York, New York Casino.
I strolled up to the bar, ordered a pint and started to take it all in. This is the point where things go awry.
Standing not four feet from me is a group of five Norwegians living it up. I don't know why or what I did, but they saw me and decided that it was now there duty to include me into their group. I became something of an honorary norwegian for the night I guess. I know that this can be trouble for me given that I have an 8:30 flight the next morning and as anybody who's ever flown out of McCarran can tell you, it's a real bitch to get through check-in and security. I plan for a two hour cushion no matter what. Which means I need to be getting up at 5:30 in the morning to get ready, packed up, checked out, and carted to the the airport. To stay out late is really not a good idea.
However...
I also can't discount the fact that I am with a group of Norwegians and, being the American patriot that I am, can't turn my nose up at a chance to achieve some degree of international diplomacy. So at around 10:00pm, purely out of a desire to help with global relations with my country and Norway, I decide to oblige and begin to good-time it with my new Scandinavian friends.
Then, somehow, 3:30am came around... uh oh. Not good for me. I know this is bad news, after all I have to hoof it back to the hotel, try and get maybe an hour and a half of sleep before getting up to catch my flight. I won't go so far as to say I was drunk.... but I certainly wasn't sober.
Finally at my hotel, feet throbbing (please refer back to earlier statements about distance in Vegas - things are farther than they appear), head still swimming I set my alarm and crash.
I awake, feeling kinda rough, but not too rough - which means I'm still feeling pretty good if you catch my meaning. I check the clock and the heart stops.... it's 8:15am. My flight is at 8:30. That obviously isn't going to happen, so I guess now it's on to plan "B".
... to be continued...
To begin, I must paint a bit of a backdrop. Every summer for the past coupel of years I had an arrangement with my employer to have six consecutive Friday's off of work so that I could volunteer at my old Boy Scout summer camp just north of St. Joseph, MO. This past summer, I was invited by a client of mine to attend the ICAST show in Las Vegas, which is the largest industry trade show for the sport fishing industry. The show fell on a Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday during camping season and I booked my travel such that I could still arrive back in Des Moines on Friday in time to drive down to camp for the evening program.
I flew into Vegas on Wednesday afternoon, checked into the hotel and grabbed a few winks before meeting up with my client for dinner and drinks afterwards. Dinner was good, drinks at the Hard Rock Casino were better (I spotted Blake Griffin and the lead singer from Journey). We called it a night at say... 10:oopm.
The next day I got up, got to the show with Ric (my client, and now my friend) and we spent the whole day walking the floor. I made a ton of great contacts and was feeling absolutely great about the whole trip. That evening was dinner and drinks again, but Ric started to not feel well so he cashed in early. On the way back to my hotel, still on a high from the success of the day, I decided to go ahead and walk over to the strip and check out the fountains at the Bellagio.
Standing in front of the giant bursts of water I thought "Hmm, I could go for a cold beer. Maybe a pint at an Irish pub would be good... New York, New York would probably be a good place for that!" And so I strolled down the strip a little ways (actually a long ways, one's sense of distance gets very skewed in Vegas), and finally found a great little joint called "Nine Fine Irishmen" at New York, New York Casino.
I strolled up to the bar, ordered a pint and started to take it all in. This is the point where things go awry.
Standing not four feet from me is a group of five Norwegians living it up. I don't know why or what I did, but they saw me and decided that it was now there duty to include me into their group. I became something of an honorary norwegian for the night I guess. I know that this can be trouble for me given that I have an 8:30 flight the next morning and as anybody who's ever flown out of McCarran can tell you, it's a real bitch to get through check-in and security. I plan for a two hour cushion no matter what. Which means I need to be getting up at 5:30 in the morning to get ready, packed up, checked out, and carted to the the airport. To stay out late is really not a good idea.
However...
I also can't discount the fact that I am with a group of Norwegians and, being the American patriot that I am, can't turn my nose up at a chance to achieve some degree of international diplomacy. So at around 10:00pm, purely out of a desire to help with global relations with my country and Norway, I decide to oblige and begin to good-time it with my new Scandinavian friends.
Then, somehow, 3:30am came around... uh oh. Not good for me. I know this is bad news, after all I have to hoof it back to the hotel, try and get maybe an hour and a half of sleep before getting up to catch my flight. I won't go so far as to say I was drunk.... but I certainly wasn't sober.
Finally at my hotel, feet throbbing (please refer back to earlier statements about distance in Vegas - things are farther than they appear), head still swimming I set my alarm and crash.
I awake, feeling kinda rough, but not too rough - which means I'm still feeling pretty good if you catch my meaning. I check the clock and the heart stops.... it's 8:15am. My flight is at 8:30. That obviously isn't going to happen, so I guess now it's on to plan "B".
... to be continued...
Saturday, January 22, 2011
It's been a while
I've not updated this blog in well over a year - don't know that I've really had much to say... at least not anything worth your time to read (or my time to write).
But the update goes a little something like this:
Back in May of 2010, I was promoted out of my role as a Project Manager at Performance Display into the role as a full-time Account Manager (sales). At the time, no change was made as far as compensation, so I could get some breathing room while I worked to develop my sales. To kick off this exciting change, I immediately embarked on a massive 10-day road trip first to KC to meet with a client there. After that, I drove to Ft. Worth TX and met up with Jeff Sheeks (our Millwork Manger) and we installed a donor feature at the Joan Katz Breast Cancer Center located at Baylor All Saints Medical Center. From there, we departed for Austin to meet up with Jeff's brother and sister in-law (where we also stayed, which was sweet because their home was tip-top). Two days later it was off to Houston to visit the old man and then back to Dallas by way of a small town in East Texas not far from the Louisiana border. Then back to Des Moines with a stop in Wichita to meet with my friend Malcolm and his colleagues and then again in KC for dinner.
It was an awesome trip and Jeff and I had a great time. But a big reason it was such a good trip, was my travelling companion. I dare say that Jeff is one of the best people I've ever had the pleasure of working with and the friendship we have forged will continue for many years to come.
After Texas, other travels included Peoria, IL (also with Jeff) and South Bend, IN. Both trips were good, but not nearly as epic as that 10-day adventure to the lone star state.
Then in July, I travelled to Las Vegas to attend a trade show for the Sport Fishing Industry. I had previously worked for a display project for a guy named Ric Hawthorne who was teh Marketing Manager for a company called American Rodsmiths. Prior to the show, Ric resigned his position citing frustration with senior management (and for enduring deliquent paychecks). He called me one afternoon to tell me of this development and suggested that if I could get to the show in Vegas, he would be there working his network for a new position and would be happy to walk the show with me and introduce me to planty of potential clients.
I arrived in Vegas, checked into my hotel, and before long was enjoying a drink with Ric at the hotel bar followed by dinner. The rest of the trip had it's own moments of interest (and instances of stupidity on my part), but those are tales best left for some other post. The important thing to come out of my trip to Nevada was teh fast friendship formed with Ric, which would later come into play and have a major impact on the direction of my life.
Summer slowly melted into fall, with additonal travels to South Carolina and Minnesota for work, and to Colorado for fun. As fall became winter, we began to notice that our fiscal year was looking catastrophic with several major programs falling through that we had been counting on. Because of that, immediate steps were taken to trim budgets across the board - the biggest being a mandatory 10% pay cut for every single salaried employee. Only an hour after that pay cut was announced, my boss also informed me that I would have to flipped over to a comission based compensation and gave me a time frame of just over a month. The initial pay cut I could endure, the commission switch proved to be too much.
By early December I had eaten through all of my savings and was forced to start living off of my credit card. In additon to that, I had to knowingly decide which bills I would pay, and which ones I could not. I knew then that this was not a situation that could last, but I was hoping to be able to buy enough time for some larger projects to hit.
While of this was playing out, I was also grappling with an opportunity that was developing out in California. Ric Hawthorne had decided in late fall to go into business for himself and, with his adopted mother's financial backing, began laying the groundwork to bring a new product to market. He indicated to me in one of our many chats that he'd like to bring me on board as National Sales Manager with the option to own a stake in the company (and eventually become full-partner). As part of this, he and Marlene felt it wise to fly me out to California to meet and discuss - which I did in early December.
We all agreed to the basic terms of what I would be looking for and with that, I flew back to Iowa with the ball in their court to confirm their numbers and formally make the offer. As the holidays approached, it was becoming more and more obvious to me that my tenure at Performance Display would not continue much longer, and I kept hoping to get official word from Ric and Marlene so I could make a firm decision. I would have to keep waiting.
December roared into January with still no word. Finally though, I got a message from Ric that Marlene wanted me to give her a call to finalize the numbers and get an offer on the table. We spoke, agreed to the scope, and I left it with saying that I wanted to take a few days to mull it over and just make sure. I made the trip to KC that weekend where my mom and I had a good chance to kick it around - and the decision was "go for it".
So as January 2011 starts it's exit, I write this having just given formal notice at work yesterday that in the next few weeks I will be leaving Iowa and heading out to California to try something completely terrifying and new.
It's kind of weird to know that I will soon be gone from everything I know in the midwest and starting from scratch in a place I never in a million years thought I'd live. I hoep to find my way out to Denver within a year or so, but that will all depend on how things go with this new venture...
Many updates to come I'm sure! Stay tuned...
But the update goes a little something like this:
Back in May of 2010, I was promoted out of my role as a Project Manager at Performance Display into the role as a full-time Account Manager (sales). At the time, no change was made as far as compensation, so I could get some breathing room while I worked to develop my sales. To kick off this exciting change, I immediately embarked on a massive 10-day road trip first to KC to meet with a client there. After that, I drove to Ft. Worth TX and met up with Jeff Sheeks (our Millwork Manger) and we installed a donor feature at the Joan Katz Breast Cancer Center located at Baylor All Saints Medical Center. From there, we departed for Austin to meet up with Jeff's brother and sister in-law (where we also stayed, which was sweet because their home was tip-top). Two days later it was off to Houston to visit the old man and then back to Dallas by way of a small town in East Texas not far from the Louisiana border. Then back to Des Moines with a stop in Wichita to meet with my friend Malcolm and his colleagues and then again in KC for dinner.
It was an awesome trip and Jeff and I had a great time. But a big reason it was such a good trip, was my travelling companion. I dare say that Jeff is one of the best people I've ever had the pleasure of working with and the friendship we have forged will continue for many years to come.
After Texas, other travels included Peoria, IL (also with Jeff) and South Bend, IN. Both trips were good, but not nearly as epic as that 10-day adventure to the lone star state.
Then in July, I travelled to Las Vegas to attend a trade show for the Sport Fishing Industry. I had previously worked for a display project for a guy named Ric Hawthorne who was teh Marketing Manager for a company called American Rodsmiths. Prior to the show, Ric resigned his position citing frustration with senior management (and for enduring deliquent paychecks). He called me one afternoon to tell me of this development and suggested that if I could get to the show in Vegas, he would be there working his network for a new position and would be happy to walk the show with me and introduce me to planty of potential clients.
I arrived in Vegas, checked into my hotel, and before long was enjoying a drink with Ric at the hotel bar followed by dinner. The rest of the trip had it's own moments of interest (and instances of stupidity on my part), but those are tales best left for some other post. The important thing to come out of my trip to Nevada was teh fast friendship formed with Ric, which would later come into play and have a major impact on the direction of my life.
Summer slowly melted into fall, with additonal travels to South Carolina and Minnesota for work, and to Colorado for fun. As fall became winter, we began to notice that our fiscal year was looking catastrophic with several major programs falling through that we had been counting on. Because of that, immediate steps were taken to trim budgets across the board - the biggest being a mandatory 10% pay cut for every single salaried employee. Only an hour after that pay cut was announced, my boss also informed me that I would have to flipped over to a comission based compensation and gave me a time frame of just over a month. The initial pay cut I could endure, the commission switch proved to be too much.
By early December I had eaten through all of my savings and was forced to start living off of my credit card. In additon to that, I had to knowingly decide which bills I would pay, and which ones I could not. I knew then that this was not a situation that could last, but I was hoping to be able to buy enough time for some larger projects to hit.
While of this was playing out, I was also grappling with an opportunity that was developing out in California. Ric Hawthorne had decided in late fall to go into business for himself and, with his adopted mother's financial backing, began laying the groundwork to bring a new product to market. He indicated to me in one of our many chats that he'd like to bring me on board as National Sales Manager with the option to own a stake in the company (and eventually become full-partner). As part of this, he and Marlene felt it wise to fly me out to California to meet and discuss - which I did in early December.
We all agreed to the basic terms of what I would be looking for and with that, I flew back to Iowa with the ball in their court to confirm their numbers and formally make the offer. As the holidays approached, it was becoming more and more obvious to me that my tenure at Performance Display would not continue much longer, and I kept hoping to get official word from Ric and Marlene so I could make a firm decision. I would have to keep waiting.
December roared into January with still no word. Finally though, I got a message from Ric that Marlene wanted me to give her a call to finalize the numbers and get an offer on the table. We spoke, agreed to the scope, and I left it with saying that I wanted to take a few days to mull it over and just make sure. I made the trip to KC that weekend where my mom and I had a good chance to kick it around - and the decision was "go for it".
So as January 2011 starts it's exit, I write this having just given formal notice at work yesterday that in the next few weeks I will be leaving Iowa and heading out to California to try something completely terrifying and new.
It's kind of weird to know that I will soon be gone from everything I know in the midwest and starting from scratch in a place I never in a million years thought I'd live. I hoep to find my way out to Denver within a year or so, but that will all depend on how things go with this new venture...
Many updates to come I'm sure! Stay tuned...
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