I hung up my desk phone, leaned back in my chair, closed my eyes and whispered, "Thank you! After all these years, finally a big break is coming my way!"

The call had come from New Jersey. Corporate office. Director of Personnel for my division of the American side of a German international conglomerate. Complicated? Indeed! But, trying to move up through that maze from my one-window office at a chemical plant near Houston was even more complicated. For six years I had given them around twelve hours a day, weekend work, travel where needed, ideas and a positive attitude -- even when that was a real challenge.

So, over the phone, the Director asked me if I would be free for dinner the next Monday. Wow! This had to be it! Dinner. Not just a meeting, dinner! I called my wife. She required more facts to reach any level of excitement. She wanted to know how much more money I would make, would we have to move, where would we be moving... She is very matter-of-fact. A sales/marketing genius like me bounces off walls with excitement, she stays firmly grounded. I suppose that's what makes marriages work...

Anyway, it was a good time to buy some new wing-tips, a truly boring shoe style worn by corporate zombies to show adherence to dress codes, therefore, corporate codes of conduct. Never show too much creativity outside of the Brooks Brothers style or risk being shunned for disruptive demeanor. Clothing talks. It should say, "This man will not embarrass you by having any original thoughts or better ideas than you." I am not sure how I got sidetracked into corporate life. There had been a time when I was rather creative, explorative, even daring. I was happier then, but I admit, I did not make as much money. So, with a wife, two kids, one mortgage, etc., I bought some new brown wing-tips.

Spent the next two days getting my office cleaned up. Worked that in-basket down, got my small office staff to clear any hanging issues off the walls and buttered up some co-workers around the building and plant... Then spent the weekend reviewing files, histories, reports, challenges and problems -- noting those solved and rehearsing how to tell the stories.

Finally, Monday. Office early. Double check all possible issues which must not arise while the division's Director of Personnel was visiting. He was flying in from Newark that afternoon and would meet me at the local seafood restaurant on the water in Kemah. Big place. Big deal. I got there early and secured a table by the window to the sea. Great view.

"I'm sorry I'm late, I was on the phone with Somerville", he said as he reached the table and shook my hand. These meetings always start with the perfunctory, "How was your flight?" He had obviously survived it, but it is always corporate politeness to ask, even though you really don't care and couldn't do anything about it if you cared at all. He answered, "Long. I hate flying, but that's life. How's the family?" In the corporate world, these exchanges are called "boiler plate" -- it is what corporate people say when they really have nothing to say, but feel compelled to say something.

"May I get you gentlemen a drink?" asked the waitress. He ordered a light beer. Light beer. I have never understood why people pay serious money for a light beer. For the same price, why not have a beer that taste like real beer? From Kingfisher of India, to Kirin of Japan to any number of European lagers, my Navy days and early corporate life put me in many a pub in many a place and I know real beer. I like real beer. I ordered a light beer...

Soon, we got the food ordered, the salad came and I could not hold it any longer. "So, John, to what do I owe this honor?" I was expecting all kinds of praise and build-up and corporate future talk. I was about to bust! "Richard, we appreciate the marketing job you've done for us and we want to call on you for some special help", he started. My brain was spinning. My heart was pounding. My ego was reaching critical mass! "Richard", he continued, "we are pulling your boss up to corporate headquarters..."

Oh? Suddenly, I got the picture. They're promoting ol' Zack and they want me to step into that corner office with two windows to be the Director of this business unit. Fine. I can do that. My family gets to stay here, I get to make more money and I get that important step into mid-level! I went to college for this! I've worked weekends for this! I've slept in airports for this! Bring it on, I'm ready!
He continued, "As you know, corporate has a 'golden fishbowl' where those chosen to be the future of the corporation are trained and groomed. Corporate has selected a truly fine individual to take the next step in his career by assuming the director position in your business unit. We want you to know how much we appreciate the training that you gave Zack and how confident we are that you will be as much help to your new director."

Somewhere my daughters were playing and laughing. Somewhere there were people having fun, drinking real beer, enjoying their after-work hours on such a beautiful fall afternoon. Somewhere my wife was talking to neighbors or sending a note to her mom telling her that we were destined for good news today. Somewhere there was happiness, hope and smiles. In my chair, at that table, looking out the window to the sea, there was numbness. Only numbness...

Our food came and I could not eat it. The Director of Personnel droned on about the future plans of the corporation, how projected growth, blah, blah, blah... "So, Richie, are you with us? Can you train another one?" I wanted to use all the words I had learned in the Navy and a few I had made up myself, but I thought about my little girls and my wife and mortgage and, etc. "Sure, man, we'll get him up to speed and keep growing our market share."

My employment there lasted another year. One of my customers hired me to do some international sales. Back in airports and long flights, but out of big corporate life. Life became happy. Golf became regular. And, most importantly, I have not worn a pair of wing-tips in twenty-seven years!