Mitchell Epstein - Mr. Lucky: My Unexpected Journey to Success

Mr. Lucky

M y nickname when I was on the seventh-grade basketball team was Jelly. In college, some friends called me Big Mitch and others Mitchell A. Even now, they still do. In West Virginia, a client called me Einstein.

A couple of years ago, I randomly started calling myself Mr. Lucky. Why? I was just feeling good about things and starting to become more aware about life, rather than just living it. I kinda liked the sound of it. I didnt mention the name to anyone except my wife until I started writing this book. I never imagined that I would write a book, let alone a book about my life. Im a pretty quiet, reserved person, and the last thing I ever want is to be the center of attention. The thought of sharing not just stories about my life, but many of my private thoughts almost stopped me from writing altogether.

But I like to help people. I always have, even though I was never conscious of it. When I think about this now I am somewhat surprised, since my attitude has generally been that were all responsible for ourselves. If you want something, just do it, I would say. Figure it out and make it happen. I hadnt thought about how, for many people, that is easier said than done. I definitely havent always been the most compassionate person in the world.

Take, for example, the most ordinary lucky day of my life: December 2, 1985. I was in south Florida on a business trip when I realized that Da Bears the 12-0 Chicago Bears were playing a Monday night game against the Miami Dolphins. The Dolphins were trying to protect their legacy as the only undefeated NFL team in the modern era. Every player from the Dolphins 1974 undefeated team would be at the game, and every diehard sports fan, myself included, wanted to be there as well.

I had to go to that game; but I didnt have a ticket. I called my dad to see if he could help. Nope. He told me he was going to the game with a buddy of his and wished me good luck. In those pre-cellphone days, he gave me his section, row, and seat number, hoping that at some point we would meet up.

I went to the stadium, knowing that with a yearly salary of barely over $20,000, this would be one of the toughest tickets I had ever scored in my young life. Although I had always managed to find a ticket, I was having no luck that night. I tried everything and nothing was working. And then I looked down, and what do you think I saw on the ground? Yes: a ticket to one of the most-hyped Monday night football games of all time. Now mine .

Exuberant, I entered the stadium and found my dad. He was shocked but very excited to see me. After I told him how lucky Id been to find the ticket, he told me that his friend would be a little late to the game. Amazingly, his friend never made it so I actually got to sit with my dad the whole time while we watched the Dolphins win 38-24 in a game that ESPN ranks as the third-best Monday night game ever. My dad and I had been to at least a hundred sports events together including the 1979 Super Bowl where the Steelers beat the Cowboys 35-31 because Jackie Smith dropped a perfect pass in the end zone from Roger Staubach but this game was truly special.

Only recently, though, did someone point out to me that my spectacular luck on that day was due to someone elses misfortune. Wow, I never once considered that. Oblivion at best; at worst, a failure of compassion. I can only hope that the person who lost that ticket was able to convince the box office they had purchased it and was allowed to take their seat because it would then be their luck that I wasnt in it, due to the absence of my fathers friend.

And so the universe arranges itself, doling out the good fortune and miseries, not always in equal measure, but always mysteriously. Most important, I have learned we all have a choice in how we view the cards we are dealt and how we play them.

Ironically, compassion or no, I have been successful helping people, both personally and professionally. I now recognize that I am very happy when I am helping others and feel tremendous satisfaction and pride after doing so. In business, I was able to help organizations grow faster and more profitably, and fortunately I was able to make a good living at the same time. In the end, there was even a big payday.

During the last few years, I have been mentoring two terrific young men who were both homeless shortly before I met them. They were part of a program that provided reduced-cost housing and required them to be full-time college students and work full time simultaneously. I have been privileged to be part of their lives and to have them in mine. We have helped each other to be better than any of us thought we could be.

In each case we started out slowly, getting to know one another. I didnt know it at the time, but came to understand that both of them had seen many people come and go in their lives; in particular, their fathers. They were cautiously assessing how much they wanted to share with me, and in some ways I was doing the same. Gradually the conversations grew deeper, until now we talk about everything.

Later they told me how amazed they were that every week they would get that text from me, asking if this time or that was a good time to get together. I didnt realize how much they valued that I just showed up. I listened, I genuinely cared, I asked questions, I made suggestions. They probably didnt know how happy I was to spend time with them and how much joy I got hearing about what they were doing and accomplishing. I am proud to say that one of them is a successful realtor, who graduated with an MBA and at age twenty-three bought his own home. The other young man is equally phenomenal. He is a senior in college, working two jobs that fall on opposite ends of the social spectrum one at a luxury hotel and the other at a foster care agency. Both young men are focused on giving back to our community.

Watching these men flourish has been so joyful and fulfilling that I wanted to do more. As I tried to figure out how I could help more than one or two people at a time, I made the decision to write this book. The name Mr. Lucky isnt intended to describe my life. I dont feel lucky that I had a very successful business; I feel fortunate. Like most successful entrepreneurs, I had a little luck along the way, but despite my self-bestowed nickname, I attribute very little of my success to luck.

Thomas A. Edisons statement best describes what I believe were the keys to my success: The three great essentials to achieve anything worthwhile are: hard work, stick-to-itiveness, and common sense. You cant teach common sense, so I will try to inspire you with stories about work ethic; entertain you with my persistence; and educate you with simple but powerful ideas.

In case you think my life has been a bed of roses: Clearly there is nothing lucky about having your house burn down or your dad die of cancer or any number of the heartbreaking and challenging stories about my life that I will share. But in almost all of these cases, I considered myself extremely lucky because things could have turned out a lot worse. For now, lets just say that if I were a cat, I would definitely be running out of lives.