Throughout my adolescence, I had always been "the computer guy".  However it wasn’t until the summer of 1994 that a career in technology really started to take shape.  I had just finished highschool, and was working my final summer as a dockmaster at the City of Chatham marina.  People from all over the Great Lakes region would cruise down the Thames River to spend their weekends in our little southern Ontario town.  I split my time between actual "work" and socializing with our guests to make them feel welcome.  As summer jobs go, it was fantastic and was right in my wheelhouse.  I recall spending a good amount of time one weekend with a particular couple who had come in from Cleveland on their mid-sized yacht.  Jeff Christian was a young executive who was not afraid to talk about his success, and was equally complimentary of the people around him.  He was apparently impressed with me during his short visit, and before navigating his way back up the river he left me his business card and urged me to call if I ever wanted any help.  I tucked it away, and knew it would be a valuable contact.

A year went by, and as I neared the completion of my final year of university I made a call into Jeff looking for some career guidance.  He welcomed me into his company, where I became the first summer intern at Christian and Timbers.    It was a tough summer for me.  I was a naive kid from a small town in Canada moving to a relatively large and unsafe American city.  Without a car, I found Cleveland and in particular the neighbourhood in which I was subletting an apartment to be a scary place.  Public transit was sketchy and I had my life threatened on more than one occasion.  Jeff took me under his wing, bringing me out to his house on a few occasions to spend time with his family, and encouraging some of my co-workers to lend a hand as well.  I was nobody, but he chose to invest in me for some reason and for that I remain grateful.  He was powerful and could be ruthless, but at the same time compassionate and caring of the people around him.

While at Christian and Timbers, I met many great people both in the IT department and throughout the company.  I was put onto a handful of IT projects that allowed me to spend time with pretty much everyone as I tweaked their desktop Macs or trained them on the new email solution.  Working at one of the hottest tech headhunting firms also gave me an opportunity to see how the industry works, and to get a feel for how one should manage their career.  My direct manager Kinton made a point of crafting a reference letter whose sole purpose was to help set me up for bigger and better things in the future.

The following summer that letter was specifically cited as the reason I was selected to join the internship program at GTE (now Verizon) at their headquarters in Dallas, Texas.  There I was exposed to bleeding-edge technology and really gained a passion and understanding of new media and understanding the point where technology and business need combine to create value.  After GTE I was able to create many more opportunities and was lucky to be able to take advantage of them all.  These early years set up my career like a line of dominoes, one that is still very early in its cascade.  I progressed through Procter & Gamble, Oracle, a small biotech startup, and for the last several years in senior management roles with Canada’s largest software company, Open Text.

It is in this role that I now find myself returning to Cleveland later this week to meet with some of our customers in the area.  I thought that it would be a good opportunity, more than a decade later, to look up some of my old friends and thank them for kick-starting my career.  So into Google I typed the search term “Jeff Christian Cleveland”, hoping to uncover current email of phone information so I can get in touch.  The result of that query was a massive shock to me: The Rise And Fall Of A Corporate Headhunter,  How Jeff Christian went from Silicon Valley recruiting sensation to homicide defendant in Cleveland.

It seems that since we last talked, Jeff’s life has been a severe roller coaster.  He landed a huge win in the late nineties by recruiting Carly Fiona to the top job at Hewlett Packard, and soon after the dotcom bubble burst his life came crashing down around him.  He split with his wife and took up with an eighteen year old girlfriend.  He became consumed by alcohol and drugs, and the new lifestyle came to a horrible climax when he was charged with negligent homicide in the death of a colleague.  In July of 2007, he was convicted in two separate incidents and is currently serving three years in prison.

Wow.  I have to admit that mostly I feel sympathy for Jeff.  Granted, I feel even more for the lives and families that were ruined by his actions but there is something inherently sad about this story.  A man that once took me under his wing and showed so much compassion under much simpler circumstances must have found himself with no one around him with the strength or determination to help.  Jeff’s primary character flaw has always been hubris, but when I knew him anyways that hubris was tempered by caring.  I can clearly see the path that led him to where he is now, and ultimately it is of his own doing.  But I only wish that someone could have been there to intervene and interrupt the self destruction.

Ultimately I am still grateful to Jeff, and to Kinton and all the other great people who helped to get my career started.  But now moreso than gratitude I feel a sense of sorrow for someone who was at one time a mentor.

I remember driving to work and hearing the initial breaking news on the radio of a plane hitting the World Trade Center.

I remember the horror and confusion in the announcer’s voice when the second plane hit.

I remember my heart sinking in shock as I realized that this was much more than an accident.

I remember pulling into the parking lot and running into the office to join my friends inside to figure out what was going on.

I remember hesitation as I interrupted a meeting in the conference room to tell our customers from New York that their home had just been attacked.

I remember the entire Internet slowing to a crawl as the rest of the world joined us in looking for answers online, and frustration at my inability to locate information.

I remember huddling around a coworker’s speaker phone as his wife held the phone up to the television and straining to hear what was going on.

I remember my panic upon realizing that there were other planes still in the air that could be heading for office towers in other cities.

I remember my relief as Jodie told me that she was evacuating her office tower in downtown Toronto and getting on one of the many trains that had been spontaneously scheduled to get millions of commuters out of the city.

I remember crying as I drove home that morning listening to stories of people jumping out of the World Trade Center in a desperate attempt to live.

I remember sitting on my couch in the basement, watching CNN and running multiple instant messenger conversations with friends around the world, all of us desperately trying to understand what had just happened.

I remember really paying attention for the first time as a friend from Lebanon explained to me why the United States is seen as a target by groups in the Middle East, and my realization of the hatred that I had been ignorant of for so long.

I remember my hope for justice against those who perpetrated the massacre and my fear that the United States would overreact and set about a new generation of war.

I remember my wife returning home, and our joint realization that our world was going to be very different from this point onwards.

Fast forward to today, seven short years from that attack.  Once again I was sitting in my car listening to the news on the radio, once again headed into Waterloo to start a normal day at the office.  Once again it was a sunny but crisp day and once again I have no reason to fear for the safety of myself or my family.  Today was normal, but for some reason today was different.

Every year on this day, I have re-lived the emotions that I experienced in 2001.  Not a year has gone by where tears haven’t flowed unconsciously from my eyes while recalling these events.  That is, not until today.  What struck me this morning was that I didn’t cry, and I’m not sure how I feel about that.  I suspect that a psychologist could explain this away, but my immediate reaction is that I’m not particularly happy to be losing that emotional attachment to September 11.  Somewhat out of fear of forgetting how I felt, I decided to document my feelings immediately before they fade any further.  I want to ensure that I remember not only the event but how it impacted me on a personal level.  I also want my children to be able to connect to the social impact of this date once they are old enough to understand, and I want my grandchildren to be able to link what will no doubt be a chapter in their history books to a very real part of their heritage.

So here it is…  this is what I remember about 9/11.

My one-time boss James shares my love of southern BBQ, and sent me an excited email a few days ago.  It seems he was driving in the countryside north of Waterloo and passed a BBQ stand set up in the parking lot of a local tire retailer.  Now we’d seen this sort of thing several times before in Tallahassee, but never up here in Canadia.  A road trip was in order.

So today we hopped into James’ new mustang convertible and headed out for an adventure.  I absolutely needed to give this place a try, even if it means a mild case of food poisoning.

We drove north to Heidelberg, and sure enough there in the parking lot of Bast Tire is a trailer set up with two big barrel smokers and several picnic tables under an awning.  On the menu was pulled pork (on or off of the bun), brisket (again, on or off the bun), sausage, ribs (if pre-ordered 8 hours in advance) and chicken (again, with the pre-order caveat).  They also offer a family meal which might be something to try if you’re a local.  I ordered the pulled pork on a bun, with beans and coleslaw.  On the condiment table they have the usual onions, sauerkraut, etc plus a selection of BBQ sauces.  I went with the sweet sauce, but they also had a vinegar-based sauce and a mustard-based sauce that were both very good after a taste test.

And for the taste-test, it was a great pulled pork sandwich.  I said to James as we finished up our lunch “Something tells me I’ll be on a first name basis with this guy before too long”.  I’m pretty sure that this is going to become a regular lunch stop for me.

I also found an article in the local paper talking about the owner:
http://www.waterloochronicle.ca/news/article/136998

SOS BBQ is located not far from the St.Jacob’s market, google map below.

View Larger Map

The seemingly endless fog of cigarette smoke in europe never ceases to amaze me. Okay, that’s an over-generalization and to be more specific it is the bars, restaurants, hotels, office buildings and airports that I have visited recently which leave me mistified.

Case in point - I am currently sitting in the waiting area of the dusseldorf airport until my flight to london leaves. I do not see anyone near me smoking, yet there is a haze in the air and it feels like marlboro exhaust is being pumped directly into my nose.

I’m sure that people get used to it, but it really drives me crazy. I just don’t understand it.

The hotel in Zurich was less than ideal.  The room was tiny, the church behind my room rang its bells every fifteen minutes while I was trying to sleep, and the ceilings were so low that I literally cut open my scalp open on a door frame.  It’s more than 24 hours later, and my head is still hurting from the impact.

The hotel in Dusseldorf however is awesome.  A five-star intercontinental is where the conference is being held, and the whole place feels like luxury.  I think I’m going to enjoy myself here.

As for the luggage situation, I got a call from London Heathrow where my bag has apparently been sitting for a few days.  I was assured that it would be on the next flight to Dusseldorf, and the baggage staff at Dusseldorf assured me that they would deliver it to the hotel up to midnight.  It is now 2am, and no luggage.  I just finished ironing an ill-fitting suit that I found in Zurich and I plan to wear it tomorrow to the conference.  When I get home, I’ll likely donate it to charity (paid for by the baggage insurance on my AMEX).

I showed up to the airport Saturday morning for my flight to Zurich via London Heathrow.  This was to be the latest attempt at beating jet lag - take the day flight to Heathrow (only day flight between Europe and Toronto), spend the night in London, then head to Zurich in the morning fully rested.

Upon check-in, I determined that my reservation of a bulkhead aisle had been randomly switched to a back of the plane window seat.  Also, the plane was oversold.  So I made them an offer they couldn’t refuse - fly me direct to Zurich in first class lie-flat seats and someone else can have my London seat.  After waiting for the plane to board, they agreed to my terms and provided me with the new ticket and $500 credit for future travel.  I was thinking this was a pretty good deal, and went home to spend the afternoon with the kids.  The Zurich flight left in the evening.

I arrived in Zurich at 8am this morning, and had a bad feeling about the progress being made on the baggage claim belt.  One by one, people picked off their bags and headed out the door.  One by one, the number of bags remaining on the belt dwindled.  And one by one, the chances of my bag being just around the corner faded.  My luggage was lost.

Well, that’s annoying but I figured I’d let the insurance on my AMEX kick in and buy me a new suit.  I’m meeting with one of the largest banks in the world tomorrow, and gosh darnit I’d better find a suit.  As I was sharing my plan with the baggage services person, he quietly informed me that there are no stores open in Zurich on Sunday.  But other than that detail, I think he believed it to be a good plan.

The day had now become a mission - to find myself a suit by the end of the day.  I embedded myself with the indigenous people and began to gather intel.  I learned from my hotel concierge that the shopping center at the train station was likely open.  Indeed it was, but the two menswear stores were perplexed by my rather generous dimensions.  However, they suggested that the airport might have more selection.  So I hopped on a train back to the airport and hit every store I could find.  They were right - the selection was better and there were a few places with nice suits.  Most of them even put me into the dressing room with a few items only to find that indeed, this is a kind of big that they haven’t seen before.  I trudged back to the hotel in defeat.

For dinner, I met with a coworker who had made dinner reservations at a fancy place.  Upon discussion of my wardrobe difficulties, she suggested that the reserved venue might not take kindly to my blue jeans and gray sweatshirt.  Instead we found somewhat less cosmopolitan place with big shared benches and plenty of local beer and food (my kind of place).  Claudia and I got to know each other in advance of our meeting tomorrow, and I think she even convinced me that the customer would accept my tale of woe as explanation for my attire.

As I settle in for the night, there is a slim chance that the bag might just show up here in the hotel.  But since the status of the bag is listed as “TRACING CONTINUES. PLEASE CHECK BACK LATER”, I’m not holding my breath.  That’s airline speak for “BAG, WHAT BAG?  YOU CHECKED A BAG?  HMMM, INTERESTING…”.

Oh, and there’s a charming clock tower beside my hotel that rings its bells every 15 minutes.  Given that it’s 10pm and the bells are still ringing, one has to wonder just how much sleep I’ll be getting tonight.

Some people re-energize by catching a nap, some people by going on vacation, and yet others by flying into the stratosphere to soak in the yellow sun. 

For me, when it comes to work anyways, visiting customers is an amazing energy boost.  I had a great quick visit yesterday to a customer in North Carolina where I had my first opportunity to deliver the new product roadmap outside of the company.  These small meetings are my favourite, when I get an opportunity to engage with people who have real business needs that I can help solve.  And when they are passionate about content management and are able to get excited about what we’re doing, well that just makes my day.

There is no spreadsheet, no strategy, no stakeholder nor committee that can equal a conversation with a customer.  Every single one fills me with an energy that allows me to keep plowing through week after week and (hopefully) make a difference.

I’m sure that you’re not particularly thrilled about the thunderstorms you’re getting tonight. While not actually claiming any sort of godlike powers, I feel that as an ethical person who takes responsibility for his actions I should apologize for bringing about this weather.
You see, there is a meeting this week at our office in Lincolnshire. I, along with several colleagues, am flying there to partake in these discussions which I assure you will be to great benefit of everyone involved. Generally, the simple act of flying to a destination is not enough to cause such a significant change in atmospheric conditions. I made the mistake this time of actually planning to meet people for dinner when I arrived tonight, and that additional selfish act can only be assumed to have caused the storm clouds to begin their formation over o’hare. My travel karma seems to degrade exponentially with the scope of planned activity at the destination.
So, to the citizens of chicago and to my colleagues stranded in airports across north america, I apologize.
This apology will be best received in person upon my arrival into your great city later tonight (or potentially tomorrow or wednesday depending on my flight status).

Dinner last night was certainly interesting.  Joel, Cheryl, and I went into downtown Munich to Marienplatz and sought out in search of traditional bavarian fare.  We walked in to a large hall where the posted menu boasted that “the best part is the offals”, with an interesting selection of miscellaneous parts and preparations of meat that I´ve never before experienced.  Excellent…

We walked inside, and the host pointed us in the direction of a table that appeared to be full.  Alas, it was only partially full with a family of three who appeared to be German tourists, one old guy who was clearly a regular, and three empty chairs for us.  After a brief glazed-over look at the menu, we had to pull the tourist move of ordering an english menu (not before snapping a few pictures of the wonderfully immature pairings of the word “weiner” all over the menu).  When the english menu arrived, the depth of just how freaky this menu was became apparent.  I personally couldn´t choose between the pig diaphragm with fried tongue, or the calf´s head.  After much debate, I settled on the diaphram meal only to be told by the waitress that they were all out.  Whether there was a huge demand for diaphram that night, or it was just on the menu to scare away tourists and they never had it in the first place I am unclear.  I tried for a different veal diaphram meal (because if diaphram´s on the menu, really how can you pass it up) and once again was denied.  In the end I settled on a mixed meat platter, with various cuts of pork, veal, a liver dumpling and of course a big pile of sauerkraut.  Cheryl got something similar, but with different random cuts of meat.  And Joel ordered a big sausage plate (…biting commentary far too easy, so I´ll leave that to your imagination).

The food was all excellent, as was the beer.  Unfortunatelz for Joel, he stepped out to the men´s room during the most exciting part of the evening.  From a few tables behind us, we heard a ruckus.  I turned around to see two men staring each other down, their noses almost touching and the rage in their eyes quite apparent.  Combatant number one was a relatively normal looking person, weighing in at maybe 175lb.  Combatant number two however was a burly man who weighed in at about 300lbs and was decked out in a clearly well worn set of lederhosen.  His legs were bare even in the freezing temperatures of a bavarian winter.  His calves were like tree trunks wrapped in wool stockings, he was drunk and he was angry.  This was not a guy who I would mess with, and he had a table full of lederhosen-wearing buddies (it was picture worthy in its abstraction, but neither I nor Cheryl dared to pull out a camera.)

Words were exchanged (no idea what they were, but they sounded serious), bar staff rushed in to separate the men, and they walked the smaller combatant out the door.  On his way out, he shouted something back in to the restaurant and lederhosen guy bolted through the crowd to take care of some assen kicken.

We couldn´t see clearly through the antiqued glass windows, but someone went into the bike racks and a small crowd had formed on the sidewalk to watch the melee.  After a few minutes, our lederhosen friend returned and everyone in the restaurant averted their eyes as he rejoined his table.

So, that was our exciting night in downtown Munich.  A story to retell for awhile for sure!

I certainly hope so, because otherwise I´ll be returning to Canada with a nasty case of scurvy.  I can´t even recall the last vegetable I ate.  Breakfast was provded at the office prior to our meeting, it consisted of soft pretzels with butter and coffee.  For lunch with had pizza.  Dinner last night deserves its own post, but for the sake of summary it was nothing but meat.  I skipped breakfast this morning, and for lunch in the market I chose between the apparent options of sausage, slightly smaller sausage, random meat on a bun, or sausage on a plate with saurkraut.  I went for the healthy option, ie the one with sauerkraut.