The loudest laughter came from our very high pitched president, Mr. We were on a massive sound stage and were blinded by klieg lights, but we could hear the rolling thunder in the audience. The sequence was: Line, silence, gasp, roaring laughter. I was dressed as a judge and directed most of the dialogue. We took the stage at 2:00 pm still buzzing from all that Kona coffee and the rest is history. When me, Steve Epstein, Rick Graham, Mike Komosinsky, Gwenn Hays, George Glatcz and Mike Levesque, previewed our (toned down) presentation for the only sane person in the room, Debbie Elliot, she said without a scintilla of reluctance “You can’t do this. When we realized we wanted to fly home still employed, we decided to tone it down. I took the team to a new level of raunch, and tears flowed freely down everyone’s face. I wish I had a recording of what went on that room. This was during the Clarence Thomas senate approval hearings.Īll districts were assigned to large suites in the morning, and were expected to hit the stage with a skit that afternoon. The Western District, of which yours truly was a member, chose “Cardiolite On Trial.” Kona would turn to be different, as we will see.Įven though we hadn’t been selling Cardiolite yet, we were charged with presenting skits that would help us overcome initial reluctance to switching from Thallium 201. Surely, a career limiting move for someone like me.ĭistricts had to team up to perform challenging sales scenarios on stage at sales meetings.Ĭringeworthy is a perfect description of this mostly embarrassing ritual. If you didn’t know what you were talking about, it would sure as shit show up on that sound stage for everyone to see. □īack then, sales skits were in vogue, and they were both feared and loathed by salespeople. The towels were so fluffy, I could hardly close my suitcase. To kick this puppy off, Ken Kasses announced that the next National Sales Meeting would be held at the Hyatt Regency on the island of Kona, Hawaii. It was a voicemail from Sue Nemetz while I was having lunch with a customer, and she said the Cardiolite approval would be the biggest thing in nuclear cardiology. I remember where I was when Cardiolite was approved by the FDA in December, 1990. I always remember and respect this date because it was the day I started living. I did incredible things with my new lease on life I got incredible opportunities and took full advantage of them. Life became interesting again as I regained my health and my enthusiasm. Then, after weeks of sleepless, sweaty nights and recurring nightmares, the sun started to peek out from behind the clouds. I hallucinated and vomited all through the night. I spent that night on the floor next to my mother’s bed, trying to stop shaking. I thought I was having a heart attack from all the drugs in my body. I was given a choice of Mount Pleasant rehab where I would be in a Librium induced haze for a week until the physical effects of the drugs and alcohol wore off or “sweat it out like a man” as Arthur suggested.Īgainst my better wishes, I went home to sweat it out. God Bless you, Arthur, wherever you are in Heaven. That night I ended up at an AA Meeting in Medford with Arthur Keenen, the guy who took the call from AA to come and get me. I didn’t go to the hospital, my sister called AA and they said for me to wait up on the corner. When my poor mother saw me, she broke down in the kitchen. She kept telling me I had to go to the hospital. She dropped me off at my mother’s house because I didn’t remember where I left my car. When I stood up to use the bathroom, the girl whose name I still don’t know, gasped and told me I was turning blue. I could only open one eye at a time, so I couldn’t tell who I was in bed with. On the nightstand was the empty film case I used to keep my speed in, and a drained Southern Comfort bottle. I woke up in a seedy motel on Route One in Saugus with someone I don’t remember being introduced to. I never found out who slipped me the smack. I don’t have any recollection of what was said by my disappointed band mates, or remember leaving the building. This gig, at “The Club” in Cambridge was a disaster because I couldn’t remember the lyrics to songs i had sung hundreds of times before. I was at the end of a fifteen year drunk and I was only 32. I had just mistakenly snorted heroin, which I thought was cocaine, and I was, as usual, thoroughly intoxicated to boot. On this night I had more chemicals in me than any human should.
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