Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Lamar Smith is a financial advisor and former CEO ofFirst Command Financial Services, a retail brokeragewith more than 300,000 clients and $18.6 billion inmanaged assets. He is also a decorated combat pilot.
Tammy Kling is a business writer whose books includeThe Transparent Leader with Herb Baum, former CEOof Dial.

Auszug. © Genehmigter Nachdruck. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.

THERE'S MORE TO LIFE THAN THE CORNER OFFICE

The McGraw-Hill Companies, Inc.

Chapter One

How could this day get any worse?

I found my assigned seat by the lavatory, crammed in at the window. An older man in a crumpled shirt and khakis was sitting in it.

"I'm 27A," I said impatiently, pointing to my boarding pass. I shoved my bag into the overhead bin and waited.

The man smiled. "I'm sorry," he said, sliding out of the row. He stood in the aisle and let me pass. "I'm exhausted. I was hoping to get some sleep on this flight."

I settled into my seat and stared out the window. The man sat down in the more desirable aisle seat. By the time the airplane backed away from the gate and took off, I realized that if I hadn't been in such a rush, I could have just sat down in his seat and traded with him. Figures, I thought. Nothing's gone right today.

The business trip had started with a rude rental car employee. Cars were sold out, and I ended up with a compact instead of the Premium Class I normally rented. I had an argument with the woman at the counter even though I had flashed my Gold rental car card. Nothing worked. When I arrived at my meeting, the CEO wasn't there. The lightweight associate who substituted for him was an idiot and wouldn't even sign my nondisclosure agreement because he couldn't see the accretion, the magic of investment banking. So instead of enjoying the planned celebration dinner with new clients at Jardinière, I was headed home early—empty-handed and not sure what I was going to tell my boss, John Carter. All of it had been a colossal waste of time.

A flight attendant stopped in the aisle. She had long auburn hair that fell to her shoulders. "Can I get you anything?" she asked.

I glanced at the gold name badge on her vest. "Yes, Brittany," I said. "I'd like a vodka tonic. One lime."

"Sure thing." The old man was asleep now, and she leaned over him and placed a napkin on my tray.

In minutes she was back with the tonic, a little bottle of vodka, and a bag of pretzels. I noticed a gold cross dangled from her neck. "Anything else?"

Cracking the seal on the vodka, "I'm fine, now."

"That's a beautiful suit you're wearing," she said.

"Thank you. It's an Oxford custom."

"Really? I knew it was something expensive. Are you traveling on business?"

"Yes. I'm an investment banker. I've got over a million miles on this airline."

The man in the aisle seat opened his eyes and asked for a Coke.

"Certainly," she said.

I took a sip of vodka, felt it stinging my throat. "Brittany, could I ask for one more thing?" I pulled a business card from my suit jacket and handed it to her. She studied the gold letters engraved on the front. Investment banker. "Give me a call sometime," I said. "I'll take you to dinner."

She tucked the card into her pocket and smiled. When she walked away, the man in my row chuckled.

"What's so funny?"

"She had a big diamond on her left hand," he said, grinning.

"I'm aware of that."

"You noticed? And you still asked her out?"

"Princess cut, with two baguettes."

"You rolled the dice anyway. Gotta hand you that much."

"That only makes it more interesting."

He took a sip of his Coke. "Okay, I see. You like the chase."

"Isn't that a big part of life? The chase?"

The man smiled, settled back in his seat. "I used to think that way."

I bet it was a long time ago, I thought.

I pulled out my laptop and reviewed the notes from the meeting. Maybe I could resurrect the thing next month. Give the client some time, and then make another visit but this time loaded with the big guns. I'd e-mail the nondisclosure again when I got back to the office and give the client more information about the value we are proposing. All I need to do is get past the gatekeepers, to the real decision maker.

"Are you headed to home, or away from home?" asked aisle guy.

"I live in Boston," I replied.

"What part?"

I downed the last of the vodka, straight from the miniature bottle. His small talk was beginning to annoy me. "Cambridge, near MIT. You?"

"I live in a little town called Marblehead," he said. "Were you on business? I assume you were by the way you're dressed."

Wow, this old guy was a rocket scientist. What was it that tipped you off? I wanted to say.

"I'm an investment banker. I was in San Francisco for a meeting with the CEO of Legacy Technology Corporation, but at the last minute he decided not to sit in. He sent in an empty suit instead. Now I get to ride in the back of the bus because I have an assistant who can't get the upgrade thing right." I wished for another vodka tonic. "These seats are murder on your back."

"I understand," he said, extending his hand. "I'm Al."

I shook it quickly. "Patrick Mitchell."

"So you're in banking. Why did you decide on that particular field?"

I paused, then stared out the window. "To do a lot of deals and make a lot of money. Isn't that why we all do what we do?"

I ordered another drink from the next flight attendant who passed by; she came back with two bottles of vodka for the price of one.

"No, not really," the man replied.

"Excuse me?"

"I don't think most people work just to make a lot of money. I believe there are other considerations that drive people, particularly as time goes by."

You've gotta be kidding me. Is he for real?

"C'mon, unless you work for a nonprofit or are some sort of activist, that's why people work. To make money. It's how the game of life is played."

"Intriguing," he said.

"You don't agree?"

"Well, I didn't say that. But tell me this, what's the purpose of all the money you make? What will you do with it?"

I decided to change the subject. His questions were wearing me out. "So I suppose you're retired?"

"No," he laughed. "Not exactly."

I looked out the window where the clouds were swirling in a mysterious shade of pink. I leaned back, closed my eyes. This guy was old and clearly not a player in my world.

I realized I had been dozing when the pilot made an announcement. We'd be landing in 30 minutes. I thought back to the times Hannah, my soon-to-be ex-wife, would insist on meeting me at Logan. No matter how late the flight arrived, she was always there, waiting at the curb. One cold night she even showed up in her bathrobe and slippers, half-asleep behind the wheel. When I looked back across the row, aisle guy was sleeping. I tugged on his sleeve. He opened his eyes and focused slowly as if he'd forgotten where he was.

"I need to go to the bathroom," I said.

He stood and let me pass by. When I got back, he was still standing in the aisle. "You have a business card?" he asked.

"I'm not sure I have any left," I said, patting my pockets. I remembered what a consultant had once told our team. Business cards are gold. Share them wisely. I didn't like to hand them out to just anyone. After a while I gave up and pulled a card from the breast pocket of my suit. The older flight attendant stopped at our aisle, touching aisle guy's elbow. "That was so considerate of you to give up your first class seat for that...