September 11, 2001 Part II
(see Part I below)

Santa Barbara.

The reason for my flight to Phoenix and subsequent trip to Santa Barbara was to terminate my underwriter in that territory. The decision had been made, the paperwork completed and all that remained was for me to show up at his home office, inform him of his demise and collect the $7,000 in equipment that we provide to our employees in the field. This equipment consists of an $800 digital camera, an $800 HP printer/scanner and a $5400 laptop computer with peripherals (ISDN bit surfer, zip drive, extra batteries, monitor and cases, etc).

So I awoke Wednesday morning 9/12/01 with my car at the closed airport, a 24-foot U-Haul truck on the side of my house and a burning need to get to Santa Barbara to close the deal with my soon to be ex-underwriter. I caled my Sacramento Underwriter, Pete Morrison, and asked Pete to meet me at the U-Haul center in Sac, so I could return the truck and have him drive me to the airport to see if I could retrieve my car. I repacked my suitcase, said goodbye to Darla and boarded the big orange beast for the last time.

I met Pete at the U-Haul center and I turned in the truck. The guy who received the truck asked how my move was. I told him that I never cracked the back of the truck and explained about the flight and Vegas. The guy looked at me stangely and said, "Dude, why didn't you get a rental car?" I slapped my head and said, "Why didn't I think of that." We finished the paperwork and I moved my bag to Pete's truck and we headed to the airport. Within a couple of mles of the airport we saw a sign that said in flashing lights: "Airport closed, official vehicles only." Ouch. I hadn't anticipated problems getting my car back. We sat in a long line of cars being questioned at the airport entrance and watched as virtually ALL of them were turned back. We got to the front and we were interrogated by a CHP Lieutenant. He listened to my story of whoa and said that it sounded like I'd been through enough. He couldn't let Pete drive onto the airport, but that he'd have one of his officers drive me to my car. I said goodbye to Pete, picked up my car, and paid my parking fee (strangely enough, although the airport was closed, they still had workers in the exit booths of the parking lots). I drove out of the airport and began the seven hour drive down the coast to Santa Barbara. I called Bob Magruder, my 68 year old underwriter, and told him that I'd be there tomorrow morning and took off.

Santa Barbara in September is a jewel to behold and my hotel room near the beach left me with the smell of the ocean and the sound of seagulls drifting overhead. I awoke Thursday morning with an overwhelming feeling of tiredness. I'd been on cruise control for two days and it was catching up with me. I dragged myself to breakfast and called my boss. We arranged that I would pick up the unbooked business from him prior to telling him of his fate and once I had that in hand, I'd call home office and hand Bob the phone and they'd cut his throat. I'd then collect the equipment and be on my way home, hopefully in time to see David's Freshman football game that night. Oh, the grand plans of men and mice.

I arrived at Bob's little beach home in Carpinteria at 9 a.m. as planned. He opened the door with a pan in his hands and a turkey neck being grilled. I asked him if he was having a late breakfast and he laughed and said, "No. The bone is for the dog." (Who gives their dog turkey necks?!) His house was unusually dirty and when I walked down the hall to his office, I was appalled to see trash strewn on the floor. He looked embarassed and said that they'd had company and hadn't had a chance to clean up. There were empty boxes of spaghetti and cereal and newspapers scattered alll over the wood floor of his office. I still don't know what the problem was, but people tell me that a sign of dementia is unhealthful conditions in a home. I'd been in his house six months earlier and it was immaculate. Anyhow, I collected the new business applications as well as inspections and quotes that he had outstanding. My ruse was to inventory his office. I held them and phoned my boss, Ray, in home office. I told Ray I had the paperwork and handed the phone to Bob. He listened intently and suddenly released a torrent of invectives at my boss, questioning his geniality and threatening to file a wrongful termination suit and an age discrimination lawsuit. He slammed down the phone....and there I was standing in his kitchen, feeling a bit silly at that moment.

Bob said, "I guess you'll want the equipment." I said yes and produced an inventory and we began to gather the equiment. Suddenly the light changed in his eyes and he said, "Screw you! Get the Hell out of my house!" I tried to calm him down and said, "Bob, you know I have to collect the equipment." He said, sure, but I have an opportunity to put it together. Come back at five this afternoon." I said no way, that I was driving back to Roseville that day and that I'd give him until noon to get the equipment together. He said that it was trash day and that he'd pile it up in the gutter and that if the trash truck took it, it wasn't his fault. Further, I was to immediately get out of his house or he'd sik his pit bull on me. I'd seen a little miniature terrier running around and couldn't help but smile. I left and immediately called my boss.

Ray said, "Boy that was brutal!" I told him he should have been standing in that kitchen and filled him in on where we were. He told me to stay on the street for the next two and a half hours and get the equipment precisely at noon. We laughed about the pit bull threat. I went and got some water and found a men's room and then took up residence on his street under a tree, about five doors down from his house. I stopped laughing about the pit bull thirty minutes later when his grandson arrived with a pit bull. I sat reading the paper and listening to the radio and saw the pit bull viciously bite a neighborhood collie who happened by the yard. I decided then that the local police would escort me onto the property while I collected our equipment. I called and talked to the Santa Barbara County Sherriff's department, explained my dilemma and asked that an escort meet me at noon. They were cool to the idea until I mentioned the pit bull and the threat. Bob finally moved the equipment to his front porch at eleven-thirty and the police escort arrived in a brand new Explorer Sport 4-door truck used for beach patrols. The officer was about 6'5" inches and well built. He pulled up to my car and said, "Let's do this."

I backed into Bob's driveway and the officer pulled his truck up onto the sidewalk. The grandson saw us coming and grabbed the dog and put him in the backyard. I walked up the front entrance and yelled to Bob through the open window that I was there to pick up the equipment. He yelled that I had "a F-----g Cop" with me and burst through the front door carrying a cordless phone. He ran by me and stood nose-to-Adam's apple with the cop and started yelling that he had no right to be on his property, blah, blah, blah. I took that opportunity to start loading my trunk. I got three items put in before Bob noticed what I was doing and told me that I couldn't touch another thing before signing his inventory and acknowledging receipt. I told him I wouldn't sign anything before I'd filled my trunk, closed the lid and was ready to leave. The cop agreed and that's what I did.

I got out of there, learning a life's lesson. I've unfortunately handled five job terminations since that day and never again have I gone to the employee's home. I've terminated them by phone and then met them in a public place to pick up the equipment. Live and learn.

September 11th touched me in ways that perhaps others couldn't understand. I never really sat and absorbed the media coverage, seeing those images over and over, because I was on the move and perhaps I'm lucky that I wasn't scarred. That day and those events took a tremendous toll on our national sense of security. Jennifer is in the Army today because of the impact of those events on her and I'm proud to be her Dad. God Bless America.