Alt Hiring

Given the uncertainty of Itochu and the unsustainable situation at UMAX, I continued looking. I responded to an ad for a publishing company in Emeryville. Sybex had been publishing computer books and manuals for years; they had an opening for an Assistant Editor.

I had returned to business school to pursue a greater knowledge of publishing. In San Francisco I’d taken some self-publishing courses and was designing graphics – posters and greeting cards. I visited printers and publishers and understood that technology. More importantly though, I didn’t understand the business side to make the whole thing run. I guessed I could find these answers at business school – a brilliant conclusion! A three year hiatus from academia and a dead-end job at a law firm in the City made school once again an acceptable course of action.

My Master’s thesis was a launch plan for a greeting card company, which quickly crashed — not for lack of product but financing. Should have taken more finance courses, obviously. I joined a New Age publisher in Mill Valley — a story unto itself — then found myself in textbook publishing in Palo Alto. In the early ‘80s, PC labs were becoming popular in colleges as we sought to understand the new role of small machines. I worked with authors, turning their mainframe software into microcomputer versions. Soon we were selling as much software as textbooks. That led me into technology, where I had stayed since. Perhaps it was a time to return to those publishing roots.

As luck would have it, the Editor was an old classmate from Berkeley. Jay was a delightful fellow, full of energy and enthusiasm. He had stayed in the City while attending Biz School and didn’t hang out so much with the rest of the class. As a gay man, his scene was really in San Francisco.

Jay had been at this for several years. The owner had basically retired and lived most of the year in Europe, leaving the business in Jay’s capable hands. My interview was in part a reunion and also a glimpse into a new world.

“Have you seen this game on the Internet?” he asked me. At the time, a new game called Doom had raged through the connected world. Kids were downloading it and playing at homes across America, and probably the world. It was your basic “shoot ‘em up” – walk around corners and blast everything in sight. I didn’t really like simulations of a psychotic killer. What I did find interesting was the wildfire spread of its popularity. It was like a Pet Rock that wouldn’t stop.

“Take a look at this,” Jay said, pulling a book from a shelf behind him. He had the idea of publishing a User’s Manual for the game. The game was free – no money in that. But a book always had a price. He rounded up an author, got it out very quickly, and had an instant hit on his hands. He even did a deal with the game’s authors to support the book and allow him to package a CD with the “free” software pocketed in the back. I thought it a stroke of genius.

On our second interview he showed me some software that allowed people to make long distance calls over their computers. He had called Israel one day and was very impressed. I had heard of this but was unsure of its quality or ability to be accepted widely. Bandwidth on this new Internet medium was still very constricted, and 28.8 kilobit modems were limited. Yet there was a vision in his fascination with it. Clearly, if this were a successful end run around the telecom companies, the revenue implication was huge. I could imagine his mind working up a way to make a book out of this. For now, he put it aside and we discussed the position in more detail.

The best things for me were that I’d be back in publishing and working with a friend I could trust, with whom I could challenge the market. I had long sought a partner of like mind, someone from whom I could draw energy and ideas and to whom I could offer my own.

My reserve was the owner, John. Jay referred to him as a peculiar man who could be hard to get along with. Part of Jay’s success had been that he managed to do so, whereas others before him had not. Jay had good interpersonal skills and understood how to handle the fellow. Would I be able to click as well?

I left that interview confident that I would have a job offer soon. Jay had to get approval, but running the business was left mostly up to him. I was still attracted to the Itochu position: a good combination of my high level strategic vision and low level small business experience. But Kano-san was taking forever and I had no assurance he wouldn’t find some engineer who’d take the pay cut. I needed a resolution now. Sybex it was.

I called a week later to see how Jay’s discussion had gone and whether approvals had been forthcoming. A hesitant receptionist told me that Jay wasn’t available. I inquired further about his return. With more hesitation she added that John was handling Jay’s business affairs. Whoa, what did that mean?

“I’ve been talking with Jay about the Assistant Editor position. I’ve been expecting a decision any day now. Can you tell me when he’ll be back?”

“Just a minute and I’ll transfer you.”

“Sybex. How can I help you?” This was starting to sound weird.

“Yes, this is Jim Chandler calling for Jay.” A pause followed.

“Jay’s not in the office.”

“When is a good time to reach him?” More hesitation. What the hell?

“He’s not in right now,” she replied furtively. Maybe he was in a meeting or traveling and thought I was just a vendor or something. “John is handling his business affairs.”

That didn’t sound good. I decided to be more direct. “My name is Jim Chandler. I’m a candidate for the Associate Editor job and I need to talk with Jay about our status.”

There was silence as she considered what to say. “You’ll have to speak to John.”

“Why? Where’s Jay?”

With some emotion in her voice, she said, “Jay is dead. He died last weekend in a hang-gliding accident.”

“No!” The image of a young, vibrant, enthusiastic face behind the desk rose in my consciousness. What a shame! What a waste. I’d hang-glided along the coast a few years back. “How did it happen?” I asked.

“He was gliding off the hills in Marin and landed on the beach … but instead of the sand, he landed in the waves. He couldn’t get out of his harness and … he drowned.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. I didn’t even try to say more. Words are so often inadequate.

I met with John only once afterward. Without Jay, Sybex wouldn’t be much fun. I could also see the stiff and problematic nature of the likely relationship with John, who said he would be returning to run the business. My lack of enthusiasm showed; I didn’t care. I never heard from Sybex again, nor did I call. How quickly such an upbeat career opportunity had taken a dive. How curtailed a friendship as well.