When I first started working at WMS, it was a high stress job. I had moved out to Chicago from Northridge ahead of my family, it was snowing and the only distraction was the Irish pub around the corner from my corporate apartment (You can’t swing a dead cat in Chicago without hitting an Irish Pub).
I had quit smoking for about a year and a half when I was 45, and now here I was, 47, smoking again after leaving a high-stress job in Santa Barbara with a pathological CEO. Chicago, a family 2500 miles away, a new job and a pub around the corner converged into a critical mass, and there was no way I could quit. My smoking had accelerated.
After the first month there, the guy we hired as our architect came on board. Ed is a great guy. He smoked too. We would go outside and burn some tobacco and discuss how we were going to create a foundation for the project we’re working on. Continue reading