B-more outragreous

"I met Luigi Vitrone in Baltimore, in 1983. I was in town for a meeting. In fact, it was officially my very first corporate meeting. I had sat through the board's discussions of various action plans, and was thrilled when the CEO invited me back into his office with a couple of key players after the formal presentations had ended. I was literally fresh out of grad school, and here I was, sitting in the office of the CEO of a large, well known company (which will go unnamed to protect the innocent and the guilty). There were six of us in the room, and as I sat silently, enthralled, each made a play on explaining to Bob (the CEO) just what they had thought of the presentations, and just where the company should go from here.

Marty, a middle aged gentleman and head of acquisitions, made the greatest impression on me. This was not because of his stellar insights, or ability to garner favor in the room. In fact, it was just the opposite. As Marty droned on about the bottom line and importance of being earnest, it dawned on me that Marty was in fact just an empty suit. The words he spoke carried no authority, and served no purpose other than to provide him with the false assurances that everyone else in the room didn't think he was a complete moron. How he got to be head of acquisitions, I will never know. I do know, however, that the consensus in the room must have mirrored my own thoughts. He was gone within the month.

But Marty taught me an important lesson that day. He taught me, through his actions, to play my cards close to the vest, never say to much, and certainly, most importantly, don't speak just for the sake of hearing your own voice.

As he sat back down in his chair, I kind of smiled to myself, aware of just how poorly he had performed in front of all the major players.

I, on the other hand, was still trying to figure out exactly why I had been invited into this cabal, and therefore attempted to keep my glib evaluations to myself.

But a big hand reached across from the big desk, and, topping off my now empty glass of scotch, said "what do you think, kid?"

My heart burst into my throat, and my mouth dried up like the Sahara. But I managed to keep myself together, and mentioned that, from what I had been reading as of late, it seemed that our best opportunity for growth and success would be to move into the area of affinity marketing. These words would have a profound impact on the trajectory of my life, and I still am not exactly sure where they came from.

I left the meeting after three large glasses of scotch, and a few hearty pats on the back from the "boys."

I stumbled into the nearest restaurant, which seemed a bit above my budget, but appropriate for the kind of solo celebration I was ready to get into. First though, I needed to get something in my stomach. As I bellied up to the bar in a half drunken, but functional state, I saw the chef step out from the kitchen, and happened to catch his eye.

"You look like you've had a rough day. I have too. In fact, I was just about to clock out and join you at the bar for a Cherry Cola. But you seem like a nice guy, and you look like you need a good meal. So I'm gonna go back in there and put together, for you, one of my specialties. He smiled and stuck out his hand. "My name is Luigi." I smiled and said "Johnny. Nice to meet you." He made a quick about-face, and as he walked away he said "be right back." He returned, about eight minutes later, and that is when I had my first experience with "Nonna's Meatballs."