LITMIR.BIZ

      A music career is far from rational.

      I chose an irrational path in life. My plan was to immerse myself into the world of music, to learn lessons as they presented themselves, to use my skills and gifts to inch forward. As I learned more and more about music, I began to see the many career paths music has to offer.

      In college, I began to hang around a group of young dudes who were fun and talented. We decided to start a four-piece cover band called The Mile High Club. It was easy to get a gig at the college because we knew the decision-makers in the student union. The band played regularly at the college lounge and at special events when headliners would come through. The Mile High Club earned money. In 1980s terms, we could easily make a couple of hundred dollars each a night. It was well worth our while to rehearse new fun music to play for our friends at college. Starting a band was rational.

      When I wrapped up at Red Deer College, I started to work at the local branch of HMV Records. HMV was the “hip” record store in town. The staff acted as taste makers for the local music aficionados. My specialty was new hit music. Even though the majority of my time at the store was spent doing inventory to replenish stock, the perks and prestige of working at HMV were worth it. I spent my days hanging out with cool people and sold music to anyone who wanted it. Working at HMV was rational. Plus, I was still playing with The Mile High Club. I was enjoying a career in music with two income sources. Each day was fulfilling and exciting. I loved what I did, and I was good at it, too.

      Around a year and a half later, I moved to Edmonton, Alberta. I eagerly began to look for the next steps in my career in music. I still worked for HMV, but now I was in a bigger store. It was fast-paced, and it moved twice the volume. One day, I heard that one of the major record labels was hiring a new rep for the Edmonton region. This made perfect sense as a next step for my career. A regular salary, an expense account, and a chance to sell music to ALL of the record stores seemed rational and, more importantly, fun. I applied for the position.

      The branch manager for MCA was a man named Terry McArthur. I wrote out my thin résumé and added a handwritten cover letter that reflected who I thought I was at the time. I wrote, “I’m severely underqualified for this job, but I’m applying for it anyway. If you’re looking for someone who wants to learn, has a gleaming toothy smile and has personality to burn, invite me for an interview.” My cover letter was cocky but riveting; it was a desperate attempt to use charm to get my foot in the door.

      Terry had never heard of me. He had a list of candidates already compiled when he was on his way from Calgary to Edmonton to conduct interviews. He rode in the passenger seat during the three-hour drive, so he could look over some notes and contact the people he wanted to interview. As a lark, and at the last minute, he decided to look at my application. My irreverent cover letter served its purpose. It grabbed his attention. He was intrigued. In a last-minute decision, he took out his mobile phone and dialed my number at home. Terry asked me to come for an interview.

      The next day, I arrived at Terry’s hotel suite late in the afternoon. We shook hands at the door and Terry invited me to take a seat at the small round conference table in the suite’s common area. Terry was upfront about the fact that he didn’t have any intention of interviewing me. We chatted about music and the Edmonton scene. He quizzed me about business matters. I improvised the whole interview. At the end of the interview, he asked me, “Where do you see yourself in five years?” I answered, “I’ll have your job.” We laughed out loud.

      The interview went well. In fact, the interview was fun. I shook Terry’s hand one last time as I left, and thanked him for taking the chance to interview me. I was happy I made it as far as I did.

      An hour later, my phone at home rang again. I picked it up to discover that it was Terry on the phone. He wanted to know if I would like to go grab a beer with him. He offered me the job.