The Life And Times of Grizzled Adman
In this comprehensive accounting shenanigans past, present and future, Roger Leeper, . This isn't a cute little 'Been there, done that, and got the t-shirt' kinda memoir.
My story is more like 'Broke in there, stole that, and sold the t-shirt', revealing how I came to think like a pirate in pursuit of the American Dream. I became a stark, raving capitalist by learning to sell without selling out.
Table of Contents
We all enter this world with a slap and a squawk. They first slapped my ass in Chicago back in 1959, when tailfins touched the sky. My folks welcomed me to the American Dream, and expected me to study hard, get good grades, land a good job, marry a nice girl, buy a suburban home with a white picket fence, and have 2.3 kids. This is what happened instead.
Sufficient pressure was applied to the skinny pedal, and the Duster ran at full song. Chicago radio stations heralded my return, getting louder as the miles fell away. At this pace, I'd soon hear WLS without static for the first time in years. Boogie Check! Boogie Check! Ooh! Aah!
Nassar Supply, a lumber yard that opened after I left the god-forsaken hinterlands, needed a salesman who could drive a forklift. Moving back into my old room, I got hired and fell into the rhythm of getting up early to open the yard and staying up late to close the bars. When the founding contractor wanted to end the partnership a year or so later, the architect partner offered me a promotion to Manager. I didn’t say yes; we parleyed.
Thoreau warned me about leading a life of quiet desperation in sixth grade, so the advice of my well-intentioned pals: "Don't quit your day job!" was cheerfully ignored. Citing the high failure rate of startups in general and/or prevailing market conditions, they all thought I was out of my mind to go into business for myself.
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Learning that the alternative newspaper in Key West had a new publisher led to an interview for the sales manager gig. Japhy from Great Lakes Futon rode shotgun, scouting locations for a new factory. After a good interview, the previous Sales Manager changed her mind and decided to stay, despite assurances that this wouldn’t happen, made before the road trip. Declining a sales gig, they cut me a wee check, maybe enough to cover gas to get to Georgia in my Lincoln.
The Meyers Manx dune buggy launched the kit car industry back in '64. Enthusiasts purchased bodies and parts in kit form, then built vehicles using the running gear from a "donor" car. Innovative Street Machines in Miami offered kits for Porsche Speedsters based on Volkswagen Beetle parts, along with three '30s Fords & a '66 Cobra that used Ford running gear. Reporting to the sales office in Plantation in November of '99, I began selling kits manufactured at the factory in Miami’s Little Haiti.
Freelance work sustained us upon arrival in Elko, NV, and grew to include the new practice that hired my bride as a medical assistant. Once we settled in, I looked for gigs selling radio advertising, working in sales for two station owners in the market before delivering sales training to new reps for a third owner. Lessons from David and Chris back in Milwaukee were illustrated with anecdotes from my decades of sales experience. One of those radio stations shared its newscaster, Lori, with the local NBC TV affiliate.
