Monthly Archives: February 2008

The limo from Virgin Atlantic arrived ten minutes early, as usual. I reluctantly left the massive suite and headed outside. The concierge walked out with me and asked, with that wonderful speech pattern, “I wonder, Dr. Weiss, if you could give me just ten seconds of a motivational talk to get me through the rest of the morning?” When I pointed out the spot in the fence across the way where I had seen my date for the last time, he said, “Well, at least you made it over the fence!”

That’s how my life has been, one fence at a time, still climbing. We shook hands and I told him I’d see him next trip. The driver checked me in for my flight on a computer no larger than an iPod on the dashboard. When we arrived at Heathrow, we entered a private drive that leads us to a circular entry up the hill where a uniformed Virgin Atlantic woman met me, looked at my passport, handed me my boarding pass, and directed me to their private security area, which took 60 seconds to transit. I was then in the airport having circumvented everything and everybody else. I bought my wife’s favorite perfume and proceeded to the best airline club in the world. All of this took five minutes from exiting the limo.

Last night I “celebrated” a successful program and a great trip with the hotel’s complimentary bottle of Moet, the chocolate and fruit that is always refreshed in the room, and an outstanding Dominican cigar brought for me by one of the participants, Adrian Bye. I watched Michael Clayton, which I think just may win the Oscar, though the ending was predicable. (Daniel Day Lewis wins Best Actor hands down for There Will Be Blood.)

I’m sitting in a private booth the size of many living rooms, overlooking the aircraft. I’ve had a plate of wonderful raw fish and am writing this with a latte and vodka/OJ by my side. (The wall sockets have provisions for any variety of electrical connection, including static electricity, I believe.) An Air India 747 is taxiing below me, once the only kind of long distance aircraft I flew. Times have changed. So have I. Always for the better, I hope. As Billy Joel sang, “The good old days weren’t all that good and the future ain’t as bad as it seems.”

I look back fondly on that 17-year-old in the park who hadn’t yet flown on any kind of airplane. But next week, on March 3, this Pisces is 62 and, what do you know, I’m better than ever….

(click on image to enlarge)

© Alan Weiss 2008. All rights reserved.

February 21

Fabulous dinner last night, Cold North martini followed by prosciutto and mozzarella, then Dover sole, accompanied by a nice Amarone. Libby buys a great dinner! (I’m told that the actor Liam Neeson is staying in the suite next to mine.)

Eight countries represented amongst our 42 participants today at the Institute of Directors, wonderful participation and a rewarded though exhausting day.

A great day at The Strategist, then a drive to the East End to host the North American contingent for drinks at Lounge Lover and dinner in Les Trois Garcon’s wine celler next to a window overlooking the kitchen. Eleven of us living the good life. Lounge Lover resembles what you see after you’ve had three martinis and knocked your head on a wall. It’ sort of an ongoing hallucination. Les Trois Garcons is decorated to within an inch of its life but some how works, including the stuffed tiger with the toy monkey on its head.

This is an exquisite restaurant with fine French food and a solid wine list exemplified by our fine Montrechet.

The hotel’s driver, with the Maserati Quadreporte, drove over and back for me.

February 22

Finished up the program this morning, then an optional afternoon session just doing questions and answers for three hours in an informal setting. Dinner locally and head home tomorrow, apparently into a lot of snow.

There is more than moderate interest in the US election campaign here, since former PM Tony Blair is often accused of a slavish following of George Bush. I also learned that only recently did Britain make the final, planned payments for the WWII debt owed the US. I was shocked at that information, and it strikes me as a particularly onerous repayment demand honorably discharged.

The sun is setting, and I’m typing this looking out the balcony at that section of fence I had jumped over….

The Virgin Atlantic pilot made the trip from Boston to London, wheels up to wheels down, in five hours and 25 minutes, which has to be a non-Concorde record crossing for me. The fog at Heathrow was so thick that I didn’t realize we were near the runway until the wheels hit the pavement. I told the Baglioni Hotel people that I’d be here at 10 in the morning, but showed up at 8:30. After some rearranging and negotiations, I’m ensconced in the Presidential Suite overlooking Kensington Park (where, in 1963, my date and I were locked in having lost track of the time, and had to climb a fence to get out, which was the last time I ever saw her, but that’s another story).

A massage later today, two meetings, then dinner with a friend who told me she wanted to take me to a fine restaurant, and chose the one in this hotel! iPhone works like a charm, hotel Maserati is at the curb, all is well with the world. For the next two days I facilitate The Strategist for a sold-out session at the Institute of Directors.

It seems that everyone wants their few minutes of fame, the Warholian Effect, if you will. Sometimes, that 15 minutes expands into the horizon.

Many years ago, Cheryl Richardson was trying to become a coach and speaker, and asked to follow me around a bit to learn consulting and marketing techniques. In return, since she couldn’t afford to pay me (pre-Mentor Program) she agreed to appear in some of my publicity shots. She was concerned about having zero coaching experience, no college education, being a young woman, and so forth. She was a quick and gracious learner.

You see her in the accompanying photo, with another of my colleagues from those days (I’m guessing the early 90s) in a shot from my corporate brochure. I still have her and others’ business cards with their names and my company, Summit Consulting Group, Inc., so that they could be properly introduced to clients.

Cheryl diligently worked her way and networked her skills, founding a coaching magazine (which I think named her “coach of the year”!), and winding up on no less than Oprah, who took a liking to her and where, like Phil McGraw, she was able to gain tremendous air time. I’ve lost track of her since seeing her by accident on Oprah, but I’m told she has her own show on the Oxygen Network, if I have that right, and has a slew of books on Amazon.com.

You never know.

(Click on image to enlarge)

© Alan Weiss 2008. All rights reserved.