Confessions of a Headhunter

Trafford Publishing

Contents

Excerpt

CHAPTER 1

First Jobs

I would like to be able to say that my first job consisted ofhaving multiple paper routes, something that we all know is thebedrock of early entrepreneurship. In fact, I did not have manypart-time jobs as a young man growing up in West Vancouver. Inever seemed to have the time for these jobs, particularly becauseI was involved in virtually every sport including rugby, skiing,tennis, badminton, squash, basketball, and track & field. I did,however, help out my middle brother, Jeremy, from time-to-time,delivering the Star Weekly, a weekly periodical, which wasdelivered on weekends. This job was fraught with dangers as Ihad to navigate some long driveways and pass a number of veryterritorial dogs, some of which were particularly unpleasant. Iliked to think this honed my negotiating skills in later years, as Ihad to try to persuade the brutes not to take a chunk out of my legor my backside.

In the early years of paper routes, paper carriers actually hadto collect the money in person from customers on a monthlybasis. I am convinced that some of the customers deliberatelyleft their dogs out on these days, as a deterrent to the poor younglad who was trying to collect the money from these customers. Imanaged to survive this ordeal with only a few bites from someof the particularly aggressive brutes who were defending their turf.Over time, I developed a particular fondness for Rottweilers andDobermans.

* * *

During the winter time in Vancouver, it often snowed ata certain elevation (around the 500 foot contour), and it wasgenerally a very wet snow, which made shovelling very difficult.During these snow storms, I frequently knocked on the doors ofsome of my neighbours to see if I could shovel their driveways.All driveways in my neighbourhood were particularly long as therewas a municipal bylaw, requiring each lot to be at least a half anacre in size. This made for some very long days, and I usuallycharged $10.00 to clear a whole driveway, so I would end up withthe sum total of $20.00 by the end of the day.

This was in stark contrast to one of my best friends, ever theenterprising person, who took a bus with his shovel to SouthGranville, where he cleared away the sidewalks for many of theretailers, charging $4.00 for each clearing. He returned by theend of each day with over $100.00 in his pocket for his efforts,and feeling far less sore than I felt having shovelled two longdriveways. This early entrepreneurship on the part of my dearfriend is probably why he has become one of the most successfultimber brokers in North America and I am not. His business isvertically integrated with sales offices in Canada and the U.S., andownership of two lumber mills in B.C. and Saskatchewan. WhileI took some pride in being the better student in high school, Isometimes wonder who is the smarter person now.

* * *

During the summers when I was in my early teens, I ran asmall gardening service for some of our neighbours, which wascontracyclical to the snow shovelling in the winter. This involvedthe usual cutting of lawns, planting flowers, shrubs and trees, andafter two partial summers of doing this, I resolved that I neverwanted to plant another green thing again. This was on top ofbeing conscripted by my father to move around rocks, bricks, andtrees for many of his ambitious undertakings in which he builtrock walls and planted an arboretum in his spacious yard. As fatewould have it, in my adult life, I have suffered from my father'ssame ambitions of building the perfect garden, including tryingto create a West Coast rain forest in my small backyard on theDanforth in Toronto, and then landscaping the front and backyardsof our recent and current homes on at least two occasions. I findthe planting of trees and shrubs to be very therapeutic, and therehas been a good division of labour with my dear bride, who usuallyplants the flowers annually.

CHAPTER 2

Formal Summer Jobs

My first formal summer job was when I was 15, and posing as16, with the Mohawk Gas Station in North Vancouver. I actuallyembroidered the truth about my age in order to get this job as aPump Jockey. In large part, it was a very interesting one, anda real eye opener for me having grown up in a very middle classneighbourhood in West Vancouver. The Mohawk Gas Station waslocated directly across from the community centre owned by theCapilano Band of First Nations. In those days, we did not referto our Native brethren as "First Nations", but rather "Indians","Natives", or other names that were sometimes pejorative. Ideveloped some friendships with the regulars who filled up withgasoline, had oil changes, or purchased Coca-Cola and chips fromour vending machines and confectionery. I was astonished at thedietary habits of some of the young First Nations' children whohad a steady diet of eight to ten Cokes on a hot summer day andthe same number of bags of chips. These were empty calories,and I wondered whether their mothers or fathers prepared properbreakfasts or lunches for them. These kids were generally happyand carefree, with one or two exceptions. There were a few kidswho tried to swipe some chips when I was not looking. While theywere regular customers, and probably felt that they were entitled toone or two free bags of chips, I had to do the inventory at the endof the week, and if I was short product, I had to pay for it out of myown pocket. The negotiations with these "five finger discounters"were delicate knowing that they had larger older brothers, andeven larger uncles and fathers who might take umbrage with myaccusatory remarks.

The only time that I felt threatened at the Mohawk Gas Stationwas on Friday and Saturday nights, when the Band's communitycentre was rocking. There were often rock groups playing, and thiswas accompanied by a lot of beer or hard liqueur consumption.Some of the band members were particularly aggressive underthe circumstances and would insist on filling up their car with gasand not paying me for the fill-up. Since there were often four orfive band members to each car, this created a potentially explosivesituation, especially for me who was trying to negotiate paymentfor the fill-up of gasoline. Always wanting to maintain ongoinggood relations with the band, I resisted the temptation of calling thepolice to help collect on the unpaid debt, unless it was potentiallylife threatening. Instead, I usually waited until the next day tocollect from the young lads who were drunk the night before, orI would have a quiet chat with their father to see if I could collectthe money from him. In this way, relationships were maintained, noone got into any real trouble, and I was able to hone my negotiatingskills at a relatively young age.

* * *

My first summer job while attending university was withCommonwealth Construction in Calgary. This constructioncompany was led by my oldest and best friend's father, who waslike a second father to me. I was asked to show up for work afterthe May 25th weekend in Calgary, and I used this occasion to travelacross B.C. I ended up spending much more time doing so, as thefourth gear in my Austin Ranch Wagon jammed, and I was obligedto make most of the whole trip in third gear, in a car which hada particularly low gear ratio. It was impossible to have my carserviced during a long weekend, so I typically left at the crack ofdawn each day and drove much of the way on the shoulder of theroad in order to avoid the fast moving cars behind me.

By the end of the first evening of travel, I made it to SalmonArm, B.C., and was able to find the only hotel room available. Thishappened to be next to some honeymooners (hornymooners?) whowere engaging in honeymoon rituals all evening while I was tryingto sleep. With paper-thin walls, it was impossible not to hear everygrunt and groan. I finally made it to Calgary by the third day, and atthe urging of my dear mother, called some long-lost cousins to letthem know that I was in town. They asked me where I was stayingfor the summer, and I indicated that I was going to be lookingfor a hotel room or basement apartment near CommonwealthConstruction's headquarters in southeast Calgary. My cousinsgraciously insisted that I stay with them during the summer, adecision which they later may have regretted.

My cousin founded one of the most successful investment firmsin Calgary, and he was very well-connected amongst the "oil patch".He and his wife owned a gorgeous home in Elbow Park, and Istayed in their basement suite adjacent to a well-stocked beer fridgeand freezer full of 14 ounce Alberta steaks. My cousins spent muchof the summer at their luxurious cabin on Premier Lake in B.C.,so I literally had the run of the house. By the time they returned,I had consumed all of the beer in the beer fridge, and eaten all ofthe steaks in their freezer. I had also hosted a party consisting ofmembers of the Calgary Canucks rugby club and co-workers fromCommonwealth Construction. This was a rather rowdy party whichled to the breaking of some lamps, and resulted in a quick cleanupand repair of all of the damage. At the suggestion of the husbandof one of my cousins, I was asked to vacate my cousin's home andfind a place nearby so as not to jeopardize the family relationship.This was prudent advice from a fellow rugby player and someonewho has remained a good friend ever since those halcyon days ofworking as a Junior Purchasing Agent at this construction company,playing rugby, drinking beer, and chasing the girlfriends of myyoungest cousin. Unfortunately, the mothers of my cousin's friendssuspected that my intentions were not entirely honourable andmonitored our activities very closely.

* * *

My second summer job while attending university was withan industrial supply company which was managed by the fatherof my next door neighbour. I had spent the first two months aftercompleting second year university touring through Europe, whichconsisted largely of hitchhiking throughout Great Britain andWestern Europe, drinking as much beer and wine as possible, andintroducing myself to as many female travellers as possible. Thetrip represented the obligatory rights of manhood and somethingthat most young men and women aspired to at some point duringtheir university days.

Upon my return from Europe, I joined this industrial supplycompany which served primarily mining and forestry companies.It provided, among other things, various pumps and hoses, whichI pressure tested to make sure that they did not burst. One ofmy friends, who worked with me that summer, had a very novelidea during the lunch hour. We took some brass Imperial fittingsand copper wire, as well as very thin mesh, and made hash pipeswhich we sold to some of the local "head shops" in Gas Town, arather trendy part of Vancouver, where the company was located.Gas Town had emerged from a very "down-and-out" area toa very fashionable one, but there were still some panhandlersand old drunks who had lived in this neighbourhood for most oftheir lives. They felt quite dispossessed by the influx of trendynew restaurants, psychedelic shops, and new age clothing stores.To add to their misery, my friend and I used to fill up squirt gunswith water, and squirt the poor fellows as they were sleeping at theside of the road. They were genuinely confused by the squirting,and frequently looked upwards to see if it was raining. While Iam not particularly proud of this prank, I attributed it to youthfulignorance at the time.

* * *

My third job during the summers while attending UBC, wasas an Intermediate Steward (a waiter for landlubbers) on theB.C. Ferries. This was the ideal job, because the ferry left fromHorseshoe Bay in West Vancouver and travelled to Departure Bayjust south of Nanaimo on Vancouver Island. The voyage lasted anhour and 50 minutes each way, and we completed four crossingsduring an eight hour shift. We typically worked five mornings, fiveafternoons, and then had five days off. The early morning shiftwas awful as I did not curtail my partying in the evenings, andoften showed up for my shift having only had two hours sleep andfeeling the effects of the previous evening's revelry. Thank God forthe bracing salt air at the stern of the ship.

At the time that I worked for the B.C. Ferries, the companyprovided full meals to the passengers, some of whom wereAmerican tourists who tended to be the most extravagant tippers,as well as the local crowd who travelled to and from their cabinson Vancouver Island and who were decidedly cheap. I waitedon their tables, and I prided myself in being able to size up whomy customers were, and what they were likely to order. Thelocal Nanaimo crowd typically ordered cheeseburgers, fries,and chocolate shakes, while the American tourists would usuallyconsume poached B.C. salmon, jumbo shrimps, steaks, and clamchowder.

I had a competition with one of the other IntermediateStewards to see who could get the orders into the kitchen thefastest. He could never understand how it was that I beat him,and this is because I used to place the orders with our kitchen inadvance of actually asking my customers what they wanted. Icould always tell the Nanaimo crowd who were very predictablein what they ordered. They would occasionally order a strawberrymilkshake instead of a chocolate milkshake, and I would respondby saying that the strawberry milkshake machine was not workingat the present time, and encouraged them to order a chocolateshake. This usually worked. In the case of the more challengingAmerican tourists, who occasionally ordered a steak instead ofsalmon, I would pronounce that the steaks were not very good onthat particular day, while the salmon was fantastic. They usuallyaccepted my recommendation, and I was able to finesse my waythrough this outrageous behaviour on my part.

With each passing day, I was becoming increasing cockyin terms of my predictions of what each customer wanted. Thiswas until an ill-fated day when I managed to get virtually everyorder wrong. Compounding my problem was an organizationalanachronism in which all of the employees in the kitchen happenedto be Asian, and all of the employees on the other side of thecounter were Caucasian. In one fell swoop, I managed to alienateevery employee in the kitchen including my chef who threatenedme with a meat cleaver. I probably should have been fired forthis irresponsible behaviour, but being a member of the B.C.Employees Union, I had some protection, and the Chief Steward,a kindly old gent with a twinkle in his eye, acted as an interveneron my behalf. After apologizing profusely to the kitchen staff andpromising that I would never pull this stunt again, a very contriteIntermediate Steward finished his summer of waitering on the B.C.Ferries. Customer orders were processed much more slowly, butthey were almost always accurate.

CHAPTER 3

The Liberal Apparatchik

After I graduated from the University of British Columbia in1973, I was fortunate enough to have been accepted into UBC'sLaw School. This was a remarkable achievement for me insofaras I had top marks in two history courses, and a fairly high gradepoint average. I also had excellent recommendations from severalprofessors. The potential fly in the ointment related to my LSATscore. Unlike the very diligent and aspiring law students oftoday, I was not aware of any preparatory courses for taking theLSATs, and I confess to having a very cavalier attitude in writingthem. The evening before I wrote the LSATs, I had played rugbyand we had a rather lengthy beer-up following my team's winover a tough opponent. I showed up to write the LSATs with aparticularly nasty hangover, which did nothing in terms of clarityof thought, but probably helped me to focus on the questions in amanner that I otherwise could not. I do not recall the actual LSATscore, but I know that I did not distinguish myself. Nevertheless,I was fortunate enough to have been accepted into this highlyrespected law school.

Rather than moving directly into law school, I asked for a leaveof absence so that I could work for one year between undergraduateand post-graduate programs. I contacted my older brother, John,who was working as a Special Assistant in Ottawa to the Ministerof National Revenue (Herb Gray and then Bob Stanbury). Johnwas one of the rising stars in his accounting firm (Thorne Riddell,now KPMG) having been the gold medalist in B.C. during the yearthat he wrote the Uniform Final Examinations. He was secondedfrom his firm by the Federal Liberals, and this was a very covetedsecondment. John was already making a significant impact inOttawa when I asked him if there were any other jobs working forcabinet ministers at the time.
(Continues...)Excerpted from Confessions of a Headhunter by Mark Palmer. Copyright © 2013 by Mark Palmer. Excerpted by permission of Trafford Publishing.
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