Thomas IntocciaAuthor | Professor | Former Financial Services Executive

 
Available to Agents & Editors

OVERVIEW

In The Professional: A Memoir of Sales, Self-Doubt, and Reinvention, one man’s winding journey through the worlds of sales—beginning in pharmaceuticals and leading into high finance—becomes a deeply human story about ambition, identity, and the lifelong search for his father's approval. From humble beginnings at Temple University to leadership roles at Charles Schwab and MassMutual, this candid memoir traces decades of triumphs, failures, reinvention, and personal growth against the backdrop of seismic changes in business and culture.

More than a career story, The Professional explores the complicated bond between father and son, the pressures of success, and the hard-earned wisdom that comes from surviving setbacks and starting over. Honest, reflective, and rich with nostalgia from the 1980s through the 2010s, this memoir reminds readers that professionalism is not a title—it is the person you become along the way, and the journey that can ultimately lead you back to your roots.

 

 

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EXCERPT

Pressure Cooker

After returning from my honeymoon, I returned to work on the phones, pitching my stock and bond ideas. A shock to my system, to be sure. My book began to grow; however, this was a hard and stressful way to build a business. Some brokers kept a bottle of Maalox on their desks because of the upset stomachs they experienced daily due to rejection and pressure. One broker would pound his fists onto his desk after being rejected by a prospect, and another would slam his Cole Directory onto the ground in anger. One broker had stress tabs in his desk drawer - although these might have been vitamins. Another would come back from lunch reeking of cigarettes and alcohol. He liked to numb himself by having a few pops at a hole-in-the-wall strip club a few blocks from the office. Don't ask me how I know this, but he did invite me to lunch once. You might have guessed his name by now.

We all handled stress in different ways. Although camaraderie existed, you were also competing against the other bullpen brokers. This may appear familiar if you’ve read William Golding's “Lord of the Flies,” but we were not left entirely to our own devices. Dick Hughes was the grown-up in the room.

One day, I had a prospect on the phone who I had spoken to in the past and who had expressed some interest in buying some bonds. This time, he wasn't interested in speaking with me at all about bonds. I tried to keep him on the phone. I told him I would be brief. He raised his voice in an unfriendly manner.

“You guys don't know how to be brief!” he screamed into the phone.

I don’t know why, but this really rattled me and got under my skin that day. A hundred cold calls a day is not an easy way to make a living, but it's necessary to build your business. The pressure got to me that day, and I snapped back. After he screamed at me, I told him what I thought, sort of …

“I wouldn’t do business with you even if your name were Donald Trump!!!” I said audibly, not exactly under my breath.

You see, Donald Trump was very much in the news in 1990. He was a boastful business celebrity and was emblematic of a whale, a big client that a broker might want to land. He was an infamous real estate mogul in New York, a casino mogul in Atlantic City, and, of course, the author of the popular business book “The Art of the Deal,” a bestseller at the time. I hung up on the prospect and hoped I wouldn’t hear from him again.

Grave Error

Smith Barney was an interesting firm in 1990. It was eventually led by Sanford Weill, also known as Sandy, the CEO of Primerica, a former executive at Shearson. After leaving Shearson, Sandy Weill orchestrated the purchase of a company formerly known as American Can, which was later rebranded as Primerica, and eventually acquired Smith Barney. Sandy was back in business at the helm of a successful brokerage firm with the idea of bigger things ahead.

His right-hand man was Frank Zarb, CEO and Chairman of Smith Barney. Frank was also a long-time public servant and executive in the brokerage industry, who worked in the Ford Administration in 1974 as an advisor to the president. He served as “Energy Czar” in the department that was the forerunner to the Department of Energy. After serving, he returned to the brokerage industry in 1977, ultimately joining Smith Barney as CEO. He would eventually become the chairman of the NASDAQ Stock Exchange for several years before heading up AIG. Yes, that AIG.

They say a career is remarkable not by who hired you but by who fired you. I don't know who they are, but maybe this is true. Remember that prospect I told you about? It seems he didn't forget our conversation and sent a complaint to Frank Zarb.

After a couple of weeks, I came to work in the morning and was called into the branch manager’s office. I was informed that Frank had sent a memo to him and to Dick Hughes, regarding the incident involving the soon-to-be former broker, me. I was asked if I had such a conversation with the prospect. I told him, “Yes, I did.” They both shook their heads despairingly. They were trying to figure out what to do with me when one of them suggested I make a phone call.

“Why don't you call Frank Zarb, tell him what happened in your own words, apologize, and ask if you can move past this?”

So, I did. I reached his secretary, who immediately connected me with him. I didn’t have time to get nervous. I told him who I was and why I was calling. Frank had a reputation for being accessible to his brokers. He was. Frank's words were polite but stern.

“You made a grave error. It is not a career-ending error, but an error in which you cannot continue your work here at Smith Barney.”

That was the day Frank Zarb, CEO of Smith Barney, fired me. Or more accurately, he allowed me to wash out of the Smith Barney training program. Either way, I would no longer be working at Smith Barney. I had been there for less than eight months. Do I blame him? No. His hands were tied. I had no one to blame but myself. Looking back, I would have done the same thing if I were in his position. This was a hard lesson.

People in the office, including the branch manager and sales manager, felt genuine sympathy for me. Dick Hughes told me that if the complaint had come to him, he would have handled it differently.

“I would have bloodied you, but you'd still be here.”

I am still unsure what he meant by this. Bloodied could have been a reference to fox hunting, which Dick Hughes was so fond of as a member of the Radnor Hunt. He had once told me that, after concluding a hunt, experienced hunters would smear fox blood on the face of a rookie hunter as a rite of passage, marking the end of his first hunt. I want to think this is what he meant. Either way, if the complaint had gone to Dick, I might have still been at Smith Barney.

Dick’s administrative assistant later told me that Dick was crushed that he had to let go of one of the best trainees that he had come across in many years. This was nice to hear, but it did nothing to alleviate the bleeding of my self-inflicted career wound.

I was allowed to copy my book of business to solicit my clients, should I be fortunate enough to land a new job, which was questionable at that moment. This was a rarity in the brokerage industry. I received several leads from my empathetic peers in the office for potential job openings. I guess it wasn’t like “Lord of the Flies” after all. They rallied around me, for which I am grateful. With their help, by lunchtime of that fateful day, I had two interviews scheduled for that very afternoon: one with Joe Mooney Sr. of Wheat First Butcher & Singer, a regional firm; I would later work with his son, Joe Mooney Jr., at Charles Schwab, and a second interview with Elliott Goodfriend, who managed the Philadelphia branch of a large wirehouse firm, PaineWebber. Both offices were located within two or three blocks of Smith Barney.

I had an initial meeting with Joe Mooney. Joe verbally offered me a job, pending final approval from his bosses to hire me. This process could take a while, perhaps a week, but I really wanted to secure a new job that day if possible. No, I needed to secure a new job that day for sure, before I went home and faced my wife! The pressure to close the deal for that job was immense! Even in the moment, it reminded me of the movie “Kramer versus Kramer,” in which Dustin Hoffman had to get a job in one day after his divorce, or he would lose custody of his child. But for me, it was real; however, it was just the sheer embarrassment of failure that motivated me, not a divorce. What would my successful family think—shameful? Loser?

Meanwhile, I attended my PaineWebber interview. Elliott Goodfriend offered me a job on the spot, so I accepted it. It was a relief for me and a “get” for Elliott. That afternoon, I started a new position. I felt nauseous from the day’s events. Sitting on the train home, I thought about what I would tell my wife. I knew I had to come home and tell her I had been fired and then hired by another brokerage firm. I planned to tell her right away—just rip the band-aid off! I was so embarrassed and ashamed. I felt so stupid!

Unbeknownst to me, Beth had planned a surprise birthday party for me earlier that week, which was that evening. Many of my friends and some family members attended. So, when I got home, I couldn't tell her the news. This just added to my misery. I had to wait for the party to end, and after everyone had left, I finally told her what happened. It was devastating. That day, I learned a lesson that would impact my career for years to come. The players involved would also, in some ways, be a part of my future career, and even the specter of Donald Trump has haunted me since 1990. I would eventually work again for Sandy Weill, as his expansion plans didn't stop with Smith Barney but ultimately led to mergers with Shearson, Travelers, and the big prize, Citibank. More on that to come.