With the help of one of my automotive professor's from Farmingdale, in 1985, I landed my technical writing job with Beck/Arnley on Rt. 110 (Broadhollow Rd.) in East Farmingdale, NY. The location was interesting in my mind because as a teen we used to ride motocross (Motocross Daze) in the sand pits a block away. I learned a great deal about the automotive aftermarket. I had to break out of my introverted shell in order to succeed and became a corporate marketing extrovert: smiling and shaking hands.

We were mix of young and mid-career professionals. The mid-career professionals knew the business and had the connections in the aftermarket. The automotive aftermarket was a small world more about "who you knew" and less about "what you knew." The whole business revolves around networking and who could get what from where.

The young on the other hand, knew automobiles and were constantly asking "why do we do it this way?" We quickly learned the tricks of the trade: smiling, shaking hands, and bringing gifts. We would wine and dine dealership parts managers to get the information we needed. We brought donuts when we visited their parts counters.

I had my own desk although I sat in a typing pool type of arrangement from the 1940's. I had my telephone, my microfiche machine, my writing pad, my layout paper, but no computer. Computers were e-x-p-e-n-s-i-v-e. We had an old Burroughs mainframe that we time-shared with other companies. The 100,000 sq ft warehouse was a union shop run by the Teamsters. Although we were corporate, we had to take 15 minute breaks daily with the union workers: union rules.

Next to our desk was a chair. The dreaded chair. When someone walked up to your desk and sat in the chair, you knew you were in for Hell. Usually it was about a customer phone call complaining that some part did not fit the application we claimed. The catalogs were strewn with errors where a part did not fit a particular vehicle or someone didn't set up other parts that needed to be replaced when replacing the one part. Most of the day the phone was ringing or someone was at your desk needing help. Even with all the turmoil, I was content.

The pay wasn't great but I was in a warm building in the winter, a cool building in the summer, wore a collared shirt, tie, and jacket and the work was easy: if and only if you knew what you were doing. We didn't know at first but then the top writing dog revealed his secrets during a meeting and those who were listening and intelligent enough to follow his methods were able to finally take off and become top performers.

I felt as though my life was heading in the right direction. I felt prosperous like the Laughing Buddha: a full stomach, nice clothes on my back, money in the bank. I decided to marry.