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Never
Give Up!
I started chanting during my senior
year at college. My first job out of college was at a large computer company,
call Digital Equipment Corporation. I was young and inexperienced, but
I was working on some exciting stuff in artificial intelligence. I was
determined to showcase this work in any way I could, because I thought
it would be very useful to the company's customers. So I decided that the
best way to showcase what we were doing was to do a demonstration of our
work at the upcoming company trade show, which was called DecWorld. DecWorld
was a large affair, hundreds of thousands of people traveling from around
the world to Boston to see the latest and greatest computer hardware and
software.
So I chanted about doing a demo at
DecWorld, and then I asked some of the folks in my workgroup about putting
the work into a demo. They laughed. DecWorld had been in the planning stages
for two years, and all the demo slots had been taken a year before the
show. (It was only a few weeks from the show at this point.)
I was discouraged and just thought
"well, that was that," but I happened to casually mention the situation
to my YMD leader, Dan, the next week. He said, "Well, you have to do it!"
My reply was, "Well, it's not that important anyway, and based on what
I've heard so far, it's just not going to happen." He insisted that I keep
chanting about it.
The next week, as I was chanting,
I had an idea. There was a person at the company who was involved with
DecWorld trade show. He was the person there who taught me. I called him
up, and told him about my idea for a demo. He laughed too. He talked about
all the politics involved in getting demos placed in the show, and all
the months of planning that went into it. He said that there was just no
way.
I figured that was that. But Dan called
me, and when I told him the situation, he said, "Hey, there's no way you
can give up now!" So I kept chanting about it. As I was chanting, I thought
about this teacher and some of the things he taught us in management training.
One of the things he said that always stuck with me was "Even though Digital
is such a big company, you can always get support for doing the right things."
I called this teacher up, and talked
to him about how much I believed in that. He was put off balance. He danced
around the topic a little bit, but then he finally said, "Look, if you
can get your whole demo plan together within two days, I'll consider giving
you a slot. You'll need to get all your own software and hardware, you
need scripts, marketing literature, and staffing for an entire month. Send
me everything; then, we can talk. I said, "OK."
But I didn't realize what I was getting
into. The software that we were using was experimental (and very tempermental),
so it would only run properly if the machines were tuned very carefully.
All of the machines that were being used at the show were brand new top-of-the-line,
which I didn't have access to, and I didn't even know if the software would
run on the next generation of machines. I had never planned a demo, or
written marketing material or a script in my life. And getting staffing
for a whole month would mean taking about ten people away from their jobs
for a month, something that would require their managers to approve. Also,
since the show was happening in July, many of them would have to forego
their vacations.
Fortunately, that conversation took
place on a Thursday, so I was able to chant a whole lot over the weekend.
I talked again to Dan, and he said, "Great!" as if the whole experience
was complete. I was frantic! And I was absolutely sure that this was way
beyond me. I was way out of my league.
But I continued to chant about it
over the weekend, and started putting together some documents... whatever
I could think of to write down. And I chanted every free moment I had.
The software turned out to be a big
issue. The way that it ran was not compatible with the new generation of
machines, and would take weeks of specialized expertise to tune them —
and we didn't have the time or the expertise. I was talking on the phone
with someone about the changes we needed to make in the software, and how
difficult it would be. Just then, a head popped up in the cubicle next
to mine. It was a new guy who was starting his first day of work in our
group. He said, "I can do that." He volunteered to do all the work needed
to update the software. Wow! I was amazed.
It was Monday, and I didn't have any
staff yet. I literally went from one cubicle to the next, asking people
to volunteer. There were many conversations and details, but within about
an hour, I was stunned to find I had filled every slot. It would require
me to work ten hour days for several weeks, but as long as I did that,
the staff plan would work.
So I called my friend the teacher,
and I said, "I'm all set." He was surprised, and a little perturbed, I
think. He had expected me to "see reason" and give up. But he was a man
of his word. So I sent him the crude script and marketing materials I had
created, and my staffing plan with all the names. He asked whether I had
all the hardware and software I needed, and I said that the software would
be ready, but I needed some help with the hardware. He gave me some names
of some people to check with.
I couldn't believe how fast this was
all happened, and I was just about to celebrate victory. But no matter
who I called, I couldn't find the machine I needed. The particular model
was brand new, and also rare. All of these machines that were manufactured
had already been earmarked for the show, and they were already used up.
I was completely depressed. To come
so far, and to hit a dead end. Once again, my friend Dan called, and again,
he refused to let me give up. I was SO ready to throw in the towel, but
he just kept quoting the Gosho and President Ikeda's guidance about not
giving up. So I chanted that whole week like my life depended on it — a
lot of daimoku. And I tried to follow up on any lead I could think of to
get the machine I needed.
But nothing. Nada. Nobody had it;
nothing was budging. This machine just didn't exist for me. The show was
now only a few days away, and the huge conference center in Boston was
already being prepared for the event. So after chanting more about it,
I decided to visit the floor of the trade show as it was being built.
I did a vigorous gongyo, and set off
for Boston early the next morning. I put on my best sport coat and tie
(even though they didn't fit very well), and headed in to the World Trade
Center. Carrying my new briefcase (which my parents had gotten me the previous
Christmas, but which I hadn't ever used), I trudged on to the floor of
the show.
Well, it was more like a construction
site. There were sheets covering everything, ladders and lifts with people
hanging lights. I found the place on the floor where our demo would take
place. And sure enough, it was the only horizontal surface of that floor
that DIDN'T have a computer on it. Somewhere in my mind I had hoped that
there would be a mistake and someone would just drop one there. Well, it
didn't happen.
Now I was desperate. I was chanting
to myself. One of the workers walked by, and I went up and started talking
to him about the demo and how I needed a computer. This person was very
fastidious, and immediately pulled out a bunch of blueprints and notes.
After consulting them, he said, "Nope, there's not supposed to be a computer
there. And it doesn't matter anyway... if you don't have your computers
set up by now, that's it. We don't have any more left."
I almost fell over with disappointment.
I felt silly in my dress-up clothes, in the middle of a scene of blue jeans
and T-shirts and hardhats. I was sure that I had just overstepped my boundaries...
I was a naive kid who didn't know how things worked. I was crushed.
I headed up to the cafeteria, and
got myself a coffee. I couldn't believe that this was the end. As I was
sitting there nursing my coffee, and chanting to myself, my ears kept ringing
with some of the quotes that Dan had read to me. So I said, "what the heck,"
I'll do daimoku sansho, and head back down to the floor ONE MORE TIME.
If I didn't find the machine, well, that was the end.
As I got back to my empty table, I
spotted another workman. I told him the same story about my need for a
machine, and he repeated the same line about the machines being all taken.
But then he said, "Let me take a look around." I sat down at my table and
chanted to myself. This was the crucial moment.
And sure enough, the guy came back
carrying a machine... just exactly the model I needed. He said, "It's the
strangest thing. I just went around the corner, and those folks over there
had just decided to cancel one of their demos. They were just turning this
machine off as I walked by."
So I had my demonstration at DecWorld.
Turns out it was the most popular demo in our demo area, and one of the
most popular at the show that year. By the end of the show, they had not
only moved it to a more prominent space... they had turned off two of the
other demos in order to have more computers to show mine. The people staffing
the demo had a great time and worked really hard. I spoke to hundreds of
customers and salespeople, and after the show was over, I kept getting
calls to do demonstrations, which led to consulting projects. These consulting
projects grew larger, and I moved into the company's consulting organization,
and then on to a separate consulting company. I had moved into a whole
different area of work, and developed new strengths, and found new work
that I really loved to do.
I look back at this one experience
as a complete turning point in my career. It totally changed my direction,
and made everything I did later possible. (Later on I started my own company
and became a CEO, but that's another story...)
But more important than that, through
this experience I learned to have confidence in the Gohonzon... that nothing
is impossible, and to NEVER give up.
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