I’ve been incredibly fortunate in my 30 year business career. My first real job working as a Documentation Clerk for a major international shipping company typing up bills of lading is hardly something to write home about but I stuck with it.  After a few years, I moved into Sales, changed companies, crisscrossed the country from the Bay Area to Boston and back to California, got laid off, was rehired by an old boss as a consultant, and ultimately landed my dream job at NIKE. I love working at the Swoosh and will ultimately retire from the company based in Beaverton, OR. While the journey has had its ups and downs when I do embark on the last big journey of my life – retirement – what I think  I’m going to miss the most is the business trips.

There is something about the business trip which just invite story creation.  I don’t even know where to begin.  There are just so many.  Hardly a trip goes by where something happens and everyone recognizes this was not on the official itinerary and whatever the situation generates a laugh and a retelling usually starting with, “Remember that time we traveled to…”  I guess nothing beats the most recent example.

Last week, I traveled with 3 other work colleagues to Toronto, Ontario, Canada for 2 days of meetings.  The meetings were informative, productive, and we were able to drive our business relationship forward with a key customer.  Thanks to the miracle of GPS we never got lost.  We stuck to the agenda.  The presentations were well understood, never boring because of the lively interaction between all of us, and we ran on time.  The meals and 3 facility tours were outstanding.  We even had a chance to go to a Blue Jays vs. Marlins game where Edwin Encarnacion hit a walk off 2-run home run in the bottom of the 9th.  A perfect ending to a perfect business engagement.  But, that’s not the story.

The story is one of the people who works for me and I were driving on Monday night from the Pearson International airport to our hotel when my colleague, who is female, says to me, “Hey, there’s a guy next to us in a truck waving at us like something’s wrong.”  I looked around and didn’t see anything unusual.  I was driving so I slowed down to get a better look at the guy.  She continues, “Do you think we have the gas tank open or there’s something wrong with the tires?”  I shook my head.  My colleague is an average looking woman who colors her hair like it’s a Lincoln penny.  She has two sons who are grown men and she recently became a Grandmother for the first time.  She proudly has on her desktop a picture of her baby granddaughter.  She’s probably less than 10 years away from retirement and an invaluable member of my team because of her many years of experience.  We stop at a red light and the fellow pulls his truck into the lane next to us and motions to my colleague to roll down her window. The guy looked like Mr. Magoo with a bulbous nose that looked like a light bulb, squinty eyes, and a round, puffy red face, like a beach ball.  He was driving a Chevy pickup truck with a big metal toolbox in the back.  His face had a days growth on it.  His forearm rested on the drivers side window.  The arm was thick, hairless and deeply tanned like a man who worked all his life outside.  My colleague asks him, “Is there a problem?”  He winked at my colleague and asked, “Where are you going, Good looking.”  She laughed nervously.  I looked over and Magoo says to me, “Way to go, Buddy, you’ve got yourself a real looker there, eh?  Great job.”  He gave me the thumbs up sign and winked again.  My subordinate says, “He’s not my husband.  He’s my boss!”  Magoo’s face lights up at this news as if he’s got a chance she’s going to jump out of the rental car and join him.  This whole interaction took about 30 seconds.  The light changed and we zoomed ahead of him.  After a few blocks, he turned off the road we were on and we never saw him again. My colleague and I looked at each other and burst out laughing like little kids.  She asked what just happened?  We told the story to our co-workers and customer all week and joked about it on the long flight back to Portland.

Yet another classic road trip story.  You can’t make this up. Stories never happen on your way to work or the grocery store or the gym.  You need to get out on the road and experience the great big world out there to meet the countless characters.  I’m so lucky I’ve had a chance to do that and meet Mr. Magoo in the process.