50 Year Old Starts a New Job

1/22/16 08:52 on the train to NYC

I’m taking the train into the city to meet with a prospective client.  There are others around me on the peak train out of Ronkonkoma.  It’s my first sales meeting in the city…ever.  I started a new job this year. If you work in sales you might be thinking, so what.  We move around.  It’s something we need to do, we move on to bigger and better opportunities.  But I worked for the same company for twenty years and starting a new job is daunting.  There are new services to learn, new managers, different personalities, new office politics, well thank God I work from home. 

More than twenty years ago, during my interview at World Courier, I said I was looking for a company to commit to and I wanted that company to commit to me.  I made an impression, and I was serious, this wasn’t some kind of interview pitch.  I had an infant at home, rent and expenses and money was tight.  I could tell I made an impression when the President at that time, John Wagner waved in his secretary who had something to share.  She mentioned what time the company’s Christmas party can start.  John looked at me and invited me to attend, which I accepted.  

  

Back on this train.  With World Courier there was the comfort, meaning I know what to expect day in and day out. There are employees at World Courier who started out at drivers and moved up the chain to become executives, even today.  I started as a customer service representative, working 1700 to 0100 at the “old” office on Guy R Brewer near JFK.  I was only there for a couple of months, till we moved to where they are still located in New Hyde Park.   Throughout the early years I knew I wanted to get into sales and I was told there was a position, but that opportunity did not come about.  I was promoted within, since I proved I was a reliable employee who was serious about making logistics a career.  I took a dangerous goods course at our office...while I was on vacation.  It was the only opportunity to get certified for free.  I signed up for custom brokerage classes and would drive into JFK two nights a week and received a certificate.  One of our brokers, suggested I could earn a decent salary if I became a custom's broker, so I pursued that. I was promoted to a supervisor and was given more responsibilities as well as beeper and eventually I was offered a sales position.  

The first lesson in sales, I needed know I had to make calls and sell - instead of waiting for the phone to ring.  It was an easy thing for me since I worked at a stock brokerage house a few years before - making hundreds of calls a day.  I love cold calling, braking new business and within a short amount of time I was recognized and asked if I could train new sales staff on cold calling.  

  

I will miss my former coworkers, who were good friends and for some were like family.  I could count on them when I needed an extra hand. We had each other’s backs and we looked out for one another.  We shared some painful memories, 9/11 stands out.  Seeing the billowing smoke from New York City as fighter jets ripped over us in the sky.  Hearing of JFK’s Jr’s plane that went missing, the moment the news broke that Princess Diana was killed.  The devastation from hurricane Sandy across the area.  Walking around the neighborhood in New Hyde Park and seeing massive trees which was toppled over and had smashed into a house. The sad memories when we learned a co-worker had passed.  There was a driver who told me, take pride in your signature since that represents you.  Don’t make it sloppy.  He died on the operating table.  Dan Byriter, as well as John Wagner and a few others.  There were happy memories, the bets I would make with Joe Vitale anytime the Red Sox and Yankees had a series. The cherished memories, for instance I was training when Ali called me to tell me she was expecting our second, Emma Tess who was born in August that year.  The parties, the drinks and the characters and friends who invited us into their homes.

We grew up together, saw some great concerts and went to different baseball games, like opening day at Shea Stadium, taking the ferry to Bridgeport to watch the Long Island Ducks play the Bridgeport Bluefish, the 2000 World Series.  Hockey games, readings, plays. I have some great memories and yet I knew it was time to move on...  While I was weighing the opportunity and trying to figure out if I should leave, it was Ali who motivated me.  She reminded me that in the past couple of years - I was not happy working there.  Really?  I was that vocal?  Yes. 

Last October, I received a call from my client who wanted to know if I was interested in an opening with his company, Sharp Clinical.  I trust Dan very much and everything…eventually fell into place.  I went on interviews which I felt they were encouraging, and I seemed to get along with everyone I met.  But, by middle of the following week, when there was no call, I was getting anxious. Perhaps, I was no longer a viable candidate?  I called Ali while I was driving home after a meeting and asked her what should I do?  She said give it a couple of more hours; if they don’t call by four, then call them.  Then I realized, and I told her, I didn’t put it in God’s hands.  I know what some of you are thinking. Go ahead and wince in pain - you heathens.  I said I love you to my wife and we hung up.  Not three minutes later, my phone rung and it was Sharp Clinical…offering me a job.

Thank you for reading this.

Killer Commute is now available on Amazon

http://www.amazon.com/Killer-Commute-Michael-Robert-Gordon-ebook/dp/B00M4RQU0G%3FSubscriptionId%3DAKIAILSHYYTFIVPWUY6Q%26tag%3Dduckduckgo-d-20%26linkCode%3Dxm2%26camp%3D2025%26creative%3D165953%26creativeASIN%3DB00M4RQU0G

My Novel Killer Commute will be published by Monk Press

7/25/14

You may recall my novel was published by Champagne Books a couple of years ago. After getting it back and making the necessary edits and the needed tightening; the novel is much better than before.  Once it's available I will post a link. For now here is the link to Monk Press.

http://monkpress-mike.blogspot.com/

When a train friend passes; the commute will never be the same

10/11/13 19:46 Home

Last Sunday Craig Mawdsley passed away.  He was a friend who I tried to avoid when I first saw him. Eventually I had the pleasure to share many rides over the past few years on the train.  I say avoided since I could tell what kind of character he was.  When he was on the platform he spoke out to whoever was listening or whoever was around.  He grabbed your attention like a bear hug and wouldn't let go.   I admit I tried to avoid him, buried my nose in a paperback and let him spew whatever he was saying to whomever; but when I finally looked up - he nailed me.  He had a contagious smile when he was in the mood which was not all the time. Craig reminded me of my younger brother though he was a few years older than me.   He was heavier and for year or so grew out his hair.  He said he wanted to grow it as long as possible and donate his hair to charity.  Yet he drank heavily and did not eat very well.  There were times when I was in Philadelphia at a trade show and he’d call…”I’m taking the Five Twenty Seven, want some cold one’s for the ride?”  Did I want some beers and more often I had to decline.  I have been on the wagon and off and reluctantly shared those dry rides with my friend.  Die hard Ranger, heavy metal fan who told me, “At my funeral, I want them to blast highway to hell.”  Yesterday was his funeral and I doubt that song was played at St. Anthony’s in East Northport.  It was a day like today, grey and cool…and my friend was taken and buried.  From the platform outside our building in New Hyde Park, I won’t hear, “Myyyiiiikkkeeee….Commmissshhh…” Like commissioner Gordon from Batman.  His cooling bottles of beers would be clanking in the layers of plastic bags with melting ice cubes which made a mess in the train.  So many times we shared beers in Mineola.  When we first took the train we had a few minutes to make the connection to Port Jefferson and would hustle over the bridge and get a couple of tall boys in the stationary store and maybe a Slim Jim for him.  No more.  No more trying to beat the fair…NICE he would say when we made it which meant we pulled out of Huntington.  I haven’t taken that train or the Ronkonkoma train in months.  My schedule changed you can say.  The last we had any contact with Craig was in August when Alisha who I work with saw him on the platform. He broke the news to her prostate cancer and category four.  But he said he was going to fight it.  He was keeping positive and wanted to see his daughter graduate high school.  So Alisha told me and I was shocked, but like all of us we file the bad news away.  When I heard he died on Monday it came roaring back.  I should have called to check in.  To say good bye.  But with death you contemplate the life.  His dream was to work for the LIRR.  He loved the trains and knew the schedules better than some of the conductors.  He worked for the Post Office and was not happy with his choice of careers.  He resented it.  No, he was very bitter about it and each day if the mood was right the toxins would spew it out…in his mind there was a connection between working for the Post Office and insanity.  With the proposed changes the government was making, I believe the possibility of losing his job became real and this struck a chord of fear.  Thinking of our knuckle bumps when he’d get off in Northport and us making plans to see each other some other time.   He’d ride his bike home from the station. Sometimes he’d look at me from where he stood on the platform in Northport and we’d wave, he may point out a beautiful woman he eyed and he’d smile and give me a thumb’s up.  He was like a teenager in a man’s body.  I have to say Nolan’s funeral home was packed on Wednesday night for his wake.  I had to park my car near the Junior High and walked in the darkness to the funeral home, eventually seeing some faces I knew from the Post Office in New Hyde Park.  There was a long line to pay respects. I met his wife for the second time though she did not recognize me.  I looked at the wedding pictures and the black and whites of Craig when he was a wide eyed boy in Queens.  The faded picture of when he received Holy Communion, his head lowered over his clasped hands.  The Rosary Bears draped around his hands in the casket.  I touched him.  His arm under his baggy suit was thin and stiff.  My friend; what happened to you?  The next time I take the train his absence will strike me again and perhaps each time I take that train...I will be reminded of Craig.  May God Bless your soul.  Rest in Peace brother...

  

Watching the Ladee rocket pass over Long Island on its way to the moon and random thoughts on the tourist train

9/07/13 Train to Penn

There is a family on the train chatting away, not a care in the world; they’re making sauce from scratch.  And what else did she say?  I never said that. You have a bad memory.  It’s been weeks since I wrote down my thoughts.  Last night we had a fire in the back yard and Ali and I relaxed on the lounge set, under the stars.  

Some guy just left his bag in the aisle and went back into the bathroom.   Don't leave your bag or I will call the cops.  He’s having some issues. On his cell phone.  Gets off at the next stop.  

So, last night there was a rocket, the Ladee that blasted at 23:27 from Virginia.  At 23:25 we were outside and waited, scanning the skies and searching.  I thought we lost our chance since I waited for it to pass.  It’s scheduled to orbit the moon on October 6^th.  Since it was a clear night, most of the east coast was able to see the rocket blaze over the trees or tall buildings and fade away to become a small diminishing dot in the blackness.  After a lot of prodding my son such as it’s a rare event, it's historical, you won’t get this chance…reluctantly Joe joined me and Ali outside.  I saw it cut across the sky and pointed it out.  It was a glowing cigar slowly rising into the night.  Joe was excited as was Ali although she was not too certain it was the rocket.  

Ali and I were sitting outside earlier today and she told me more about the federal tests for the schools which is her rallying call.  She will be interviewed by a TV station in Virginia.  

Shit, I can’t think there are too many conversations on the train.  This teen is saying LIKE…LIKE…I’m Like hold on…I can’t do it.  Parallel parking is too hard.  I hear them more when the train slows down.  Why? Take a deep breath and get the word like out of your vocabulary the world will be less polluted. Easy there…The next station is Hicksville.  And as the noises rise, the voices rise and I am trying to tune out from their popping gums and LIKES.   I can’t stop, they keep sucking me in…stop…now someone is cranking their music, this is a different world from the commuters I was used to riding with.  Let me remember this crap the next time I consider taking the train into the city on a Saturday.  It’s easier but this is painful.  Divide sign which is in Hicksville.  There is a clear divide between these generations.  There are true tourists coming in and taking over...

When 30 inches of snow strikes Long Island we discover we are human after all

Yesterday, I dug out of the ton of snow.  We have a chicken in our neighborhood and I found it on top of one of the stone white lions that sit on the sides of our front steps.  It nervously looked at me before flying off into the tree, well aware it couldn’t escape by running away.   The night before the kids asked me if I could get it and bring it inside.  “It will rip your eyes out if it had the chance.”  This is no ordinary chicken; this was a street wise punk who picks up scraps when the opportunity strikes.  He struts like he owns the block.  He may be tough but he is a survivor living through this storm as well as Sandy.   The estimate is 30 inches of snow fell in our area.  It was the hardest hit on Long Island.  There was the stifled silence which I felt when I sneaked under the snow laden limb to toss bird seed onto the snow.  Yes, I feed the birds. The silence reminded me of building a snow fort when I was 9, eating my dinner inside the hollow chamber with a flickering candle.  I was separated from the outside world, it was warm in that fort, my brother or sisters could not penetrate the thick walls; until the sun melted away the privacy and space into the spring soil.  This weekend has been a change.  On Thursday night I picked Amanda up at JFK, we stopped in Huntington and ate a late dinner at Mundey’s and picked up a book at Book Revue.  We made it home by 9ish.  Bella wrote a Welcome Home sign for her.  Friday morning the storm was coming.  Even in the snow we prepared and dropped off the kids at their schools.  I worked from home since the predictions called for more than two feet in the area.  The kids were let out from school early.  Joe’s performance at the high school, Sound of Music was called off on Friday and Saturday.  The snow and winds came.  I spent hours shoveling out a path to the driveway and then the whole driveway and then the cars.  The show was piled to the top of the trunk.  Eventually my muscles waved white flags, cease and desist.  I thought of my parents on Bellecrest Avenue and felt relieved to know my Brother-In-Law was there to shovel them out. I heard of cars abandoned on the expressway and Route 83 and 347.  People were stranded in their cars.  For the first time in the twelve years we have lived on this block, our road was not plowed.  Even now a full twenty four hours after the snow and thunder, the road is still treacherous.  No church this morning.  The cable and phone and internet are out.  The cord snapped off the pole.  I pulled the thick plastic cord off the road and wrapped it around a fence post.  We are left to DVD’s and games and talking to each other.  It’s a weekend you’d imagine you’d like.  As the years passed - we have been busy with distractions and events.  I felt that emotional tug; I’d like a day when I had nothing to do.  There is hardly a day for that - nothing to do - especially when you’re home.  I found myself organizing the file cabinet, finding old bills and old pictures.   I may bring them in since I told Beth there was a picture of me and Shane from The Pogues…it’s Sunday…and there is nothing to do or so I thought till I wanted to jot down some thoughts.  

Thank you for reading this.

A Stillness before the Hurricane

8/27/11
It’s raining lightly outside, quiet except for the idling train which will make one of its last rides for the day. Stopping service on the LIRR is unprecedented. Services will be suspended at noon on MTA, Metro North and the subways are part of the plans to prepare for Hurricane Irene. Flights to and from New York and Philadelphia are cancelled. More than 2.6 million people will be affected. Most events in the area if not all events have been cancelled, including my nephew’s birthday party which was supposed to take place tomorrow. Our church sent an email to cancel service. But I’ve been trying to brush this off. Even yesterday morning on the commute into work I thought Ralph the conductor was overreacting when he said he bought a chunk of dry ice for the freezer, in case the power goes out. Then I learned Long Island is due for a direct hit. The center of the storm is supposed to strike. My mind slowly accepted the stark reality - this can be a cataclysmic event. As I type, I feel as though this could be some of the last words I share with you; since the experts are telling us this will be more severe than Hurricane Katrina. We have batteries and food. We have each other, but the idea of losing the roof or the siding is a possibility, I cannot accept losing my wife or children. I look at the trees outside and am taking before and after photographs in my mind. There are calls for mandatory evacuations in Jersey and parts of the coast of New York, including parts of the city and of course Long Island. Last night, when the president came on TV and warned us, “All indications point to this being an historic hurricane,” that's when I looked at Ali and said, "we're in for it." There has been some overreaction , The Jets cancelled their only free practice at Hofstra on Thursday, the bank was closed this morning. The county executives made robo calls on Thursday to be prepared for the hurricane. Before I started writing, there was a message from our home insurance company, warning us and to take preventive actions, bring in garbage cans – into the house or garage, and if you have to file a claim here’s the number to call. When I went to get my hair cut and planned to go to the bank, which I mentioned was closed. I passed stores that were taping their wide store front glass. One store was bordered up, a gas station ran out of gas and there are lines at the stations and the ATM machines. Get cash! Panic has settled into our summer. What will it be like after it passes? The experts agree it will hit us late tonight, so we’d be deep in sleep…maybe. Our shed outside will take a hit and I expect it will collapse and then I can see the old garage will go down. The furniture is removed off the deck, the gas tank for the grill is disconnected and in the garage and we wait. I have my beers and books. It’s quiet outside at 11:44 in the morning.

Something new in the works...book release party?

Writing a new piece for Monk Press, and for now I’m writing without a title. It’s nice to be back typing the keys. On the train and I really need to move to an open seat where I could move my elbows. I’m in the single seat which faces another single directly. Feeling constrained. Commuters line up in the aisle before we pull into the station; I’m afraid some can look over my hands and see the words. Mind your own business.
We’re having a book release party and I hope some can make it. We’re investing a lot into this event, well not a crazy amount, but enough that I’m now thinking – this may not be a great idea. I’ m not sure how many will attend – if anyone other than family. Maybe a few friends?
Note, last night Ali and I discussed and thought we may need to cancel the event, is becoming too expensive. Hope the hall agrees to pay back some of the money…

Thoughts while riding in an empty train

Here it comes. Listening to Sonic Youth on the train. Tonight we’re expecting more snow. I don’t want to talk about the weather. That would bore you. What happens on the train as we approach St. James? Nothing but silent heads getting tossed. It’s quiet in the train. This is the time when we contemplate the day we left. This time can be used for self introspection, intoxication and frustration. You can listen to music or watch a movie on the laptop. Read a book. Do some more work and rise like a star in your company. I type this and get distracted by my Blackberry. Let the water run in the river. We pull out of Smithtown and there’s nothing but snow faintly lit by dim street lights. Cars are tombs. We crash under our blankets and wish for dreams to erupt from the deep, let me sleep. About this time I’m hungry and wish for some dinner. I’d like to have something to eat now. It’s warm in the train. Next week I’m heading up to Toronto and presenting to the sales staff up there. Afterwards we are going out to dinner and then back to my hotel for a night of sleep in Canada. We’re pulling into St. James and I’m thinking of you. I’m thinking of the black shoes I see. The platforms are covered in snow and the commuters trudge through wet snow. Where is the cleanup crew? Keeping warm since we’re expecting more snow and shit. Still, listening to Sonic Youth. Met a girl from Northport who is studying massage therapy, former English student…gave her my Newsday essay. I think I have some more copies. Reading Walter Mosley, Fearless Jones. So far it’s a damn good book. Looks like a house still has their Christmas lights on. The commuters recognize one another and discuss the weather, how’s it going? Stony Brook station. You have to know what you want. It’s surprising. See you tomorrow, have a good day. It’s 6:25. We’re about to pull out of Stony Brook. At this time the train is virtually empty except for a man in the Emergency row and a woman who waddles down the aisle as we get thrown about on the steel tracks. I think tomorrow I’m working from home, just a hunch. I don’t want to get stuck on the train. It’s time to wrap up this puppy.

Newsday publishes my essay

http://www.newsday.com/opinion/oped/a-commuter-s-ticket-to-inspiration-1.2610397

April 5th on the LIRR towards NYC

Monday after an extended vacation, is like living through a fog. Come to think of it yesterday morning, Easter Sunday began with a fog. We woke up sort of late, enough time to make the 9 AM service, but entirely missed the sunrise service at Cedar beach. I’m curious to know who was there, how many attended? Joe and Diana met us at church and we sat upstairs. Afterwards, we had a delicious brunch at Lombardi’s on the sound and posed for our portraits on the deck overlooking the Long Island Sound.
This was Dr. Rev Diane’s last Sunday before a three month sabbatical, and we vowed not to speak to her during this break, but of course I thought, she doesn’t know about Killer Commute, but she will. There’s that loss. The feeling that I can’t speak to someone, or see something ever again, like seeing an animal on the verge of extinction on display in a zoo – there is a sense of panic. This is different. She will be back in July in time for the chicken BBQ and I sound just like a country bumpkin. She will know about the novel in her time. I remember when we were in Guatemala; she told me she needed a break. Breaks are good. Being a church leader must be hard, like being the sole parent for hundreds, offering guidance and spiritual nourishment. I hope she enjoys this time, gardening and fining peace amongst the soil and herbs. Maybe she’d teach us a few things when she gets back?