The teacher I'd hoped for

He had a way with words. Anyone who knew him would tell you that. "I don't mean to pontificate," he'd often say, and then he would. He was a legend, a classic and a brilliant marketer. He was also the epitome of what the advertising business was about-and would soon become.

It was the summer of 1991, and the recession was in full swing when I met my mentor, Barry Siegel, and my career started. Our coming together was the result of my father's distaste for my living habits under his roof, and of my inability to type.

I had just graduated from Syracuse's S.I. Newhouse School of Public Communications, and I felt entitled to a corner office. I would be the Gordon Gekko of advertising. I would have a driver, attend lavish parties and fly around the world. And getting there would be easy, right? All I had to do was type 90 words a minute. How hard could it be? Have you ever tried to type that fast?

I soon found myself down to my last $50, faced with the reality of moving back home and leaving my roommates and our palatial 350-square-foot studio. I became desperate and I started begging. "I'll do anything," I said. "Please just give me a job in advertising. I can type. I will stuff envelopes, make copies. I'll do just about anything."