If You Don't Have Big Breasts, Put Ribbons on Your Pigtails (5 page)

"And then there's the co-op's board of directors," I talked on, "a group of your neighbors whose job is to protect you." His eyebrow

relaxed. "They decide what you can and can't do, can and can i change, and who yon can and can't sell to because that's wliat ihey're not paid to do. If you want to put in a dishwasher, they'll make sure it'll work by having the building's engineer review the plans your architect submits. He'll bill you by the hour and tell you that you can't do it." His eyebrow climbed back up his forehead. "But don't worry. As your boss probably knows already, you can pay the super to sneak it in. just make sure it's in a box that doesn't say dishwasher.'''

I could tell by the look on his face I needed to backpedal. In short, a co-op is a one-of-a-kind thing and when you decide to sell the apartment, you have the right to sell it to whomever you want as long as all your neighbors like the person you want to sell it to. Your buyer, just like you do, will have to submit a list of all his personal assets, liabilities, and income. And six full copies of his last two years' tax returns. You have all those things, right?"

His eves glazed over. I passed him a pen.

"Sign here."

MOM'S LESSON #4: Use your imagination to fill in the blanks.

4fc

THE LESSON LEARNED ABOUT UNDERLINING THE POSITIVE

When I started my business, I saw myself as the iC Queen of New York Real Estate." I pictured myself in great detail including the clotho I'd wear to address an audience of thousands of people eager to hear my expert advice. I imagined a long line of people waiting to kiss my

ring, just as I had seen them kissing the pope's ring on TV. Although I never had an official business plan, my imagination provided a crystal-clear picture of where I wanted to go.

As a kid, I was made to feel like an outsider because I was different. In business, Fve become known as an innovator because of that difference. What Sister Stella Marie called "stupid," I would later discover was "dyslexic." Fve since learned that children who struggle with written information and facts almost always have great imaginations. They can see the big picture, think outside the box, and with just a little encouragement, can learn to use their fertile imaginations to fill in the blanks. Although Fm still a painfully slow reader, I can read a person, size up a situation, and invent a new idea quicker than a wink.

My mother was wise enough to identify my special gift of creativity and underline it. In doing so, she turned my "stupidity" into my greatest strength. Fve succeeded because of my learning difference, not despite it.

pearls from their original strand, washed them in a small bowl filled with soapy water, and rolled them dry on the towel. Next, I laid out the pearls in size order, the biggest in the middle, the smallest at the ends, and threaded each pearl on a white silk string using a thin wire needle. I tied a knot tightly and evenly against each pearl, locking it into place, until I completed a perfect strand.

One night while stringing, Vicki told me that Ray had taken the name of her third husband, Mr. Simon.

"Simon?" I asked, an errant pearl hitting her linoleum with a tink. "I thought it was 'Simone.' "

"Oh no, his name was 'Simon.' He was from 185th Street and Amsterdam Avenue."

A few months later, Ray's mom gave her son a second chance as a developer by letting him put a second mortgage on her vintage colonial on Main Street.

When Ray got back on his feet, his two oldest daughters came to live with us. We moved out of Vicki's house in Hackensack and into a new high-rise apartment in Fort Lee, not far from the Fort Lee Diner. Each morning, I drove across the George Washington Bridge into Manhattan and each night I returned home in time to make dinner.

In my awkward new role as stepmom, I regularly sat at the dining room table helping Rays daughters with their homework. His eleven-year-old, Laura, was having trouble reading, so I recounted the story of Sister Stella Marie and tried to do what my mom had done for me. "Laura, don't worry about it," I told her. "You're a very hard worker, and that will get you through almost anything. Besides, you're so good with the big words, I bet one day you'll be a doctor!" Seeing her face light up made the many nights of doing homework worthwhile.

Ray rarely came into the Corcoran-Simone office anymore, other than to sign checks. He was working late more frequently, often meeting with his carpenters, plumbers, and electricians. But he always got home in time to kiss the girls good-night. One Tuesday, Ray

came home unusually early, at 6:30. I was in the kitchen pulling the spaghetti off the stove.

"I have something I need to speak with you about," he told me seriously.

"Surer I said, dumping the spaghetti into the colander.

"I'm going to marry Tina." My hands went limp, and I sloshed the spaghetti into the sink.

"Tina? Tina, my secretary?" I stammered. "I-I don't understand."

He shifted his weight and put his hands in his pockets. "I guess you should start looking for an apartment or something," he continued. "But take your time."

"It'll take five minutes" was all I could muster.

The next morning, I couldn't lift my head, and my feet couldn't make it onto the small rug beside my friend Catherine's sofa. I was too proud to call my mom and tell her she'd been right all along. For the first time in my life, I called in sick.

I questioned my value without Ray. I traced over the details of our last year together, searching for the signs that should have given me an idea of what was going on. I was filled with anger. I hated Tina. I hated Ray. But, most of all, I hated me.

A few days later, Catherine came over to the sofa with her home remedy for puffy eyes. "Now, Barbara, she began, as I lay mummified on her quilted sofa, "today is the day you're going back to work!" She put two soggy tea bags on rny eyes and made a feeble attempt at a pep talk, intermittently spooning more warm water on the tea bags. An hour later, I stumbled to the shower, and for the first time in days, looked in the mirror. I looked just like a raccoon.

"Catherine?" I yelped. 'What kind of tea was that?"

There was a long silence in the living room. "Oh my God!" she finally yelled back, its Bigelow Blackberry!"

Six coats of Maybelline Coverstick and a whole lot of coaxing later I put on a don t-notice-me beige outfit—beige blouse, beige pants, and

beige shoes—and walked to my office on East Fifty-eighth Street.

I hesitantly stepped off the elevator, sucked in a long, slow breath, and marched into the sea of fourteen sales desks and salespeople facing me at the door. Everyone looked up. I had no idea what they knew, so I smiled my best smile and made a beeline for my office. "Good morning, Norma! Hello, Esther!" I waved as my eyes worked hard to avoid Tina's desk. Then I lost connection with my legs, and I tripped— no, flopped—onto the floor, a sprawled blur of embarrassed beige.

Of course, Tina got to me first. "Are you okay, Barbara?" Ray's fiancee asked kindly. "You look like you hurt your knee."

I knew my mother's red blotches were forming on my chest, and I was grateful for the beige turtleneck. 'Tm fine," I stammered, groping for the contents of my purse. "I'm fine!" I grabbed for my subway tokens and tampons as they rolled to the far reaches. "My purse is fine, my knee is fine, everything's just fine\"

A phone rang, providing the needed distraction for me to limp into the office I shared with Ray.

"Tina can't work for Corcoran-Simone anymore," I announced to Ray.

"Tina's staying," Ray informed me. "Remember, Barbara, I'm the majority partner here, owning fifty-one percent, and that puts me in control of this business."

Our romance had died a sudden death, but it would be a long time before we broke up the business. Somehow, I plowed through the next year and a half of entrances and smiles just fine, while slowly building the courage to walk away from Ray for good. One Thursday afternoon, as we made our usual weekly deposit at the bank, it hit me—now was the time.

"Ray," I said, "I'm going to start my own company." His left eye twitched beneath his blue aviator shades, but he remained calm. "You might want to give that a little more thought," he suggested.

So I did. Overnight. And what I thought was this: / actually know what I'm doing and I can do it without him. But how to leave him gracefully had me stumped.

Lying in bed that night, I decided to suggest we divide our business the way my mom did her cake.

Sunday night. Edge water.

Mom made our favorite dessert on Sunday nights, a Duncan Hines Devil's Food Cake in a rectangular aluminum pan. After dinner, Mom placed the warm cake on top of two waffle-weave dish towels in the middle of the table, and we watched and drooled as she cut it into twelve pieces using the flat edge of her spatula. As we went around the table, each child eyed and vied for the biggest piece.

When there were only two pieces left, it was Eddie's turn to pick, and he reached for the bigger of the two. "Eddie!" Mom interrupted. "Let your sister Ellen go first."

Mom had a rule that when there were two pieces left of anything, we had to offer the bigger piece to the other person. She insisted it made our piece taste better.

Ellen, who was toiling away at the dishes in the sink like the Good Housekeeping Seal come to life, wiped her hands, marched over to the table, and picked exactly the piece Eddie wanted.

"Don't worry, Eddie," Mom reminded him, "now yours will taste even better!"

Vve got to offer Ray the "bigger piece" I concluded. I turned off the light and went to sleep.

Ray was spending a lot more time at the office, and when he arrived the next afternoon, I was ready for him.

"There's something serious I need to talk to you about." I said as he settled into his black leather chair. "I've given things a lot of

thought, Ray, and I am going to open my own business." I waited, but he said nothing. "So, we have to decide how to divide up the company. We'll need to establish two separate bank accounts and split the receivables and the cash. One of us can keep the office, but one of us will have to move. We'll each need our own phone number." Ray sat silent. "And since we have fourteen salespeople, we can each take seven. I suggest we do a football-type draw, and since you're the majority shareholder, you should get to pick first." Ray seemed pleased with the "you pick first" terms.

I had already reviewed the list of salespeople and knew I needed Esther to help me move my business forward. For me, Esther was indispensable. I figured if I went first and picked her, Ray might argue for her.

"Okay," he began. "I'll take Norma." Norma was clearly the big moneymaker. She was our top-producing salesperson, and her sales alone accounted for 60 percent of our company's commissions. And, now, Norma and her 60 percent were Ray's.

"Okay, then," I said, "I'll take Esther." Esther wasn't our top moneymaker, but she was a consistent producer and had all the traits I needed to build my new business. Esther was smart, organized, and worked twice as hard as everyone else.

We went back and forth until we had divided up the remaining dozen people.

"I'll keep the main c 355-1200' phone number," Ray declared. Ray always said our number was a "very important number" and made the company sound big.

"Then I'll take the new number," I agreed. I knew Ray would think 355-3550 sounded less important, but it was snappy, and I thought far easier to remember.

"And I'll stay here," Ray concluded, "and you 7/ have to move." I nodded. Although it would be expensive to move, I knew it would be a fresh start. The same space was available upstairs with a lot more light, and I could rent it for the same amount of money.

We had finished all our business, so I put my calendar into my

shoulder bag and zipped it up. "What will you call your company, Ray?" I asked, standing near the door.

"Pogue-Simone, of course!" he bragged. How romantic, I thought painfully, but quickly comforted myself when I realized that people would have a hard time spelling or pronouncing Tina's last name anyway.

'''-Well, Ray," I announced, "Fm going to call my new company 'The Corcoran Group.'' " And as I said it, I knew it was right.

We shook hands. Ray was obviously pleased with the results and was relishing what he viewed as a clear win through and through. He got up, walked past me, and turned around. "You know, Barb," he said, putting his hands in his pockets, ''''you '11 never succeed without me.'''' And with that, Ramone Simone strutted away.

I leaned back on my old desk, the one Ray had just picked for Tina, and vowed to myself that I would rather die than let him see me fail!

4k

MOM'S LESSON #5: Offer the bigger piece, and yours will taste even better.

4k

THE LESSON LEARNED ABOUT PIE-SPLITTING

It took almost eighteen months for me to build the courage to leave Ramone Simone, as I still believed my success depended on him. Once I offered Ray the bigger piece, it was easier to leave, because I knew I had been more than fair.

As the majority shareholder, Ray was entitled to 51 percent of the money. That was obvious. But I knew that Ray, if given the choice, would reach for the immediate gratification of getting the top-producing salesperson. I got the longer-term better pick by choosing Esther.

Fve found that whenever I offered the other guy the bigger piece, I got what I wanted and it always tasted better.

Trying to swallow my anxiety along with my breakfast, I looked back at the door and thought, I just don't have enough time, money, or help, and in three days Pm going to have a whole lot of salespeople with a whole lot of needs, walking right through that door!

For the first time in my life, I felt really alone. I put my coffee aside and thought about calling my mom, but I didn't. Ever since I left home with Ray against her wishes, I had been determined not to need her anymore.

I glanced at my watch. It was 6:30 a.m. Mom would be beginning her morning routine about now. I could see her running through the house putting everything in order, and I wished she could be here with me to whip everything into shape. She'd know exactly what to do.