I used to have a saying when I first started out as a rookie broker for Dean Witter. I said I “was painting the Mackinac Bridge” which by it’s very description sounds impossible. Well for the weak of will, it is. In those Dean Witter days it meant that I had a contact list on my computer with over 1000 souls on it. None of whom I knew anything about. So everyday, I reported to work to paint ie; contact, meet and convert these souls into living and breathing stories whom eventually with any luck would become clients. So slowly and surely I painted. Day in and day out from 6 a.m. to 7 p.m. A son was born, a house was purchased and a home was made. Then a daughter and then an office with a window. A boat, a yacht club membership, little league games and so it went until boredom struck. A boatyard cured the boredom, but why stop at one?
I swore I would never weild a paint brush again. Now, older and a little wiser I have come to the conclusion that every once in awhile, even a veturan bridge painter needs to get down in the dirt and rust. So here I am. I have begun a similar exercise and have begun at the precisely right point, the beginning. The day began as all the rest, getting the men started. Once the yards started moving along, I went to my bridge, alone. I don’t expect to finish the job soon, but I do expect to finish. She will be a fine site when I am done too.