Life as an Outline

Life as an Outline

In my story of several days ago I wrote of the sense of end of days as we approach yet another decade turning point. That got me thinking about the beginning of decades and what they have tended to portend. As I have reflected, I have found that there does, indeed, seem to be a pattern of optimism and new beginnings that accompany the start of a new decade. This may be me making a pattern fit my recollections and/or selective memory, but I am still struck by the message, perhaps because as I wrap up this decade with all its issues, I am ready to start anew.

In 1961, my mother moved us back to the United States from the tropics. We had lived in Venezuela during the salad days of the dictator Marcos Pérez Jimenez. We had moved to Santa Monica, California just long enough for our father to abandon ship on the shores of the Sunshine State, and send us skittering back to the tropics of a remote jungle valley in central Costa Rica. The move back to Wisconsin in 1961 was so our mother could attend graduate school and we could learn to be good little suburbanites in a $100/month bungalow on my mother’s $3,000/year fellowship. John F. Kennedy was president and the sky and the moon were the limits. Education was the great economic and social propellant and we were collectively drinking from that firehose. What started at the University of Wisconsin eventually took us to Maine where the Great Society tapped our mother to set up the first women’s Job Corp Center. There were 1,200 inner-city women between 16-21 years old sent for reprogramming to a facility in the back woods of Maine. It was a transition to our mother’s intended career as a development diplomat at the Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations. This positioned us to end the decade in Rome, Italy. Quite a journey from Turrialba to Madison to Poland Spring and finally to Via Della Primati Sportivi….literally the road of champions.

In 1971, while our mother carried on making the world a better place for the impoverished and needy, I opened my eyes to the world by heading off to her ancestral home and Alma Mater, Cornell University in the Finger Lakes Region of New York State. Going from the tropics to the land of ice fishing was a big change a decade before, but so was going from a class size of 54 in a Catholic prep school in the Eternal City to a class of 2,800 at a major Ivy League University. Our mother had made her own way in life from age fifteen, so she thought nothing of expecting me to do likewise at seventeen. The Seventies were themselves a transitional decade in many ways and I spent half of them gathering a BA in Economics and Government (having sidestepped the Engineering track I had begun) and an MBA in Finance. The second half of the decade had me moving to New York City to start a career in banking. It was all new and exciting for me, but the industry was busy adjusting its trousers learning how to be less like a mullet lender and more like a sophisticated financial advisor. The hours changed from 10 – 3 to 7 – 7. For some unknown reason it suited me and unlike so many other young people in New York City, the social life held no interest to me. I was intrigued and motivated by the work, which was distinctly different than my wanderings through college. I settled down into suburban commuter hard-working life and excelled.

In 1981, I started to hit my managerial stride. Responsibilities were plentifully afforded to me and always seized with passion. My sweet-spot quickly became the intersection of management and innovation. If there was a challenging opportunity, I became the go-to guy and never once refused to seize the bull by the horns. Many other colleagues were selective and I became the one who took the jobs I was asked to take with no thought of specific career path. My path was opportunistic and tended to avoid the mainstream and embrace the exotic. I went from managing the largest corporate clients, to trading against counter-parties, to scraping money out of the most difficult and troubled markets in the world. While others spent their time in the lap of London, Paris and Tokyo, I spent my days in Latin America, Africa, the Middle East and Eastern Europe. Nothing was easy and nothing was a straight shot into the corner pocket. Nothing was less than a two-cushion shot, but the new ground was always adrenaline-inducing. After a fifteen year rocket ride, I hit a wall and fell to earth. I was sent to the gulag for rehabilitation at a midlife time that was coincidentally appropriate.

By 1991, I was rehabilitated and honored with a fresh start and a certain organizational respect that dusted off my old uniform, put my picture back on the wall again and gave me a ticket back to Moscow on the Hudson. Once one has looked into the abyss, little can scare you, so I became fearless and wise. I learned new content and a great deal of managerial process. My timing was good as my accumulated skills and the firm’s expanding position on the global stage made it a good place to wield and develop success. I rose through the ranks as though there had been no set-backs. I was able to reach the highest heights in the organization just in time to watch the firm pass into the hands of an aggressive personal wealth-builder who pushed to sell the firm to our collective benefit and profit. Others have done better on Wall Street, but few have enjoyed the diversity of ride combined with such a healthy amount of reward. It was a good ride that ended as the decade closed.

By 2001, I was starting my foray into private equity with the spoils of my banking career. The opportunity for creativity seemed abundant, but then the NASDAQ died and my partners and I pulled in our horns and focused our resources on the one in ten that the breed tends to favor. The siren call to return to Wall Street came in the moment of choice between complete entrepreneurial risk, sponsored private equity and a chance to regain a prominent corporate role. I opted for what I knew best and returned for another spin of the Wall Street wheel. After four blissfully successful years, I spun a 00 on the roulette wheel and had my turn in the crucible, skirting the ultimate denigration by the skin of my most ethical soul. The circumstances could have bounced many ways, but I like to think honesty and righteousness made the ball bounce well for me.

In 2011 it was time to leave banking behind and spend my time in giving back. I taught and I built, and left the wheeling and dealing to those who prefer it and can stomach the grit of it. There seems to be no lack of diverse interest in the skills I have accumulated. None are more sought-after than managerial competence, honest advocacy and creative enthusiasm. To be able to tread that line between risk-taking and prudence is always in demand it seems.

It is now almost 2020 so the new decade is almost upon me. I am old, but not too old. I am wizened, but not tired. I am wiser than before but naive enough to still dream. I head off soon into a modern version of retirement for my newest decade. I will teach, I will consult, I will use my expertise and reputation in positive ways to help worthy people. Life is a story and every story needs a solid outline. I am proud of the outline of my life so far.