Sugiyama - The Icon Effect

Six months had gone by the best six months of my entire life. Between my internship with Joseph , and my part-time job at The Hotel 100 with Francisco , I felt like I had learned more in these six months than I had in my eight years of college.

All I wanted to do was work and learn.

Every day was an opportunity for me to learn to better myself and I took every opportunity I had to grow as a businessman and as a person.

I met with The Icon at least once a week, sometimes at Madres Coffee House sometimes in The Presidential Suite at The Hotel 100 and sometimes in one of the conference rooms at the firm.

I had never been so optimistic about my future.

O ne Saturday afternoon , right after Id gotten off my shift at The Hotel 100 , I got a disturbing phone call from my father as I was driving back to my apartment .

My father w as a blue-collar type of guy, and h e had worked hard his entire life in the construction business . He grew up in Hays, Kansas, a small town with a population of about 20,000 people , and thats where he raised our family .

He was a prideful man, and though he never came out and said it, deep down, he would have preferred that I had stayed in Hays and joined him in the construction business. My parents were never rich, but they did okay for being in a small town.

My brother Derek was seven years older than me. Derek was a star baseball player, and even at 12-years old, he already had professional scouts watching him. During his junior year in high school, just before he turned 17-years old, every majo r university was after him UCLA, Stanford, Texas A&M, Wichita State you name it.

On top of that, pro teams were drooling over him too. Everyone expected him to be a first or second round draft pick when he graduated, which would have been a huge accomplishment for a high school player.

But during the summer after his junior year, he got into a fight with the wrong guys, and after several major confrontations, the rivalry escalated to the point of no return.

One night, Derek w as driving home from a party and h is rivals spotted him . They t railed him for several blocks, and a s they pulled their car up beside his, they unloa ded two shotgun blasts, car-to-car, assault style.

Derek was shot in the back of his head by the shotgun blasts , and died right there in his car .

My brother was my idol. I always wanted to be like him, but I wasnt born with the athletic ability that he was, and no matter how much my father pushed me to be like Derek, I never quite measured up in his eyes.

When Derek died, part of my father died with him.

I was only 10-years old when he died , and for a 10-year old , shoulder ing the burden of being my fathers last hope of having the perfect son was more pressure than I could take.

I ended up quitting baseball, and all sports for that matter, and nothing angered my father more. He resented me for that, and to this day, I could tell that he still resented me.

When I graduated from high school , I moved to Hawaii to go to college , and thats when I learned how to surf. Surfing was the best thing for me, because it allowed me to e njoy something without being judged .

It was liberating, unlike baseball.

With surfing, no one ever compared me to Derek.

M y father , however, continued to compare me to my brother, which was such an unfair comparison. Derek was born an athlete, and I was not. And to make things worse, during my entire adolescent years, and even young adulthood years, everyone compared me to what they thought Derek would have eventually become .

It was an impossible thing to live up to.

When I got divorced, that was just another one of my many failures in my fathers eyes. My ex-wifes decision to leave me was the ultimate level of disapproval, and it reinforced my fathers lack of approval.

I had become used to not living up to other peoples expectations of me. It was something that hung over my head like a dark cloud .

Perhaps thats one of the main reasons I was so overwhelmed by The Icons generosity and interest he took in me. He was the father figure I never had.

When I answered the phone and heard my fathers voice, I was excited to tell him about the last six months, everything I was learning, and the potential opportunities on the horizon. But instead of encouragement, my father had nothing but skepticism and criticism for me .

Vincent , how much is he paying you? my father asked.

I responded, Uhhh, well Im making $10 an hour at the hotel, and my internship is an unpaid internship so

What? Youre working for free? What are you, stupid? Youre gonna let this rich guy use you for free labor? Cant you see that hes taking advantage of you? my father yelled.

He continued, And working for $10 an hour, serving people water at a hotel? If you came back to Kansas, I could get you a job making $25 an hour in construction. What the hell is wrong with you?

My father had a way of making me feel stupid and powerless. Nothing I did was ever good enough for him, and at a time that I could have really used some positive encouragement and support from him , he destroyed me.

But Dad, Im really learning a lot, and you should see the guys Im working with. This one guy, Joseph he started out with nothing and now hes

Vin cent! Theres no way this guy is gonna make you into a millionaire! And why would any of these guys invest any time in you. You dont have a business background. Youve got no experience! my dad shouted at me.

Dad, if you could just meet these guys

Vincent! These gu ys are taking you for a ride .

But

Vincent! You listen to me, son. Your wife left you. Im not saying its ALL your fault, but she left you. And she left because she was tired of hearing about all of your pie-in-the-sky fantasies about becoming some big shot business mogul. Havent you learned anything from this?

It was if my father knew exactly what to say to cut to the deepest levels of my insecurities. He was always the first one to point out my shortcomings, and as much as I wished his words didnt affect me so negatively , they did.

This wasnt the first time Id been barraged by my father, receiving a verbal beating from his disapproval.

I was used to it.

After I hung up the phone, I was so beaten up by the discouraging conversation with my father, I couldnt even recall the last ten minutes of driving.

I felt like an inflatable raft with a leak in it, slowly deflating little by little to the point of barely staying afloat, and weak enough to be pulled underwater by the slightest downward tug.

I immediately called The Icon.

He picked up on the first ring.

Vincent , my man ! Whats going on ? The Icon asked.

I just got off the phone with my dad.

Cool! Did you tell him about everything youre doing?

I didnt know how to respond to The Icons question. I surely di dnt want to sound unappreciative of the gracious opportunity hed granted me with, however I didnt want to lie to him either.

Sir, lets just say that my dad isnt exactly a fan of me pursuing this entrepreneurial path .

The Icon let out a big chuckle and said, I get it. Most parents arent too fired up about their kids taking this path either. Basically, t hey dont w ant to see their kids suffer, b ut what they dont realize is that its the suffering that makes them strong. Its the suffering that builds character.

Sir, y ou and I both know that, but my dad he just doesnt get it, I said in a solemn tone of voice.

Hmmm thats too bad.

Sir, he told me to quit, and that I should move back to Kansas and work with him in the construction business, I confessed.

Well, is that YOU want to do?

No! Never! No way! Its just that my dad you know he just says these things that make me feel stupid, you know? He just I mean everything I do its just its just n ever good enough for him.