The rock band, the White Stripes have a song called, “Going to Wichita.”  Everytime I hear that song, I think of my first job out of college.

After some angst, I had accepted a job with an ag company based in Minneapolis.  But their idea of recruiting was not to tell you where you would be moving to until the very last minute.

About a week before Easter, and just as I was getting ready to submit my thesis for graduate school, I got the call from the company.

“Congratulations Mark!  Your moving to Wichita to trade Wheat Midds!  Can you start next week?” Said the way to overly perky voice on the other end of the line.

“Great!  Fantastic!”  I said, with some fake enthusiam in my voice, “How about the Tuesday after Easter?” 

“Well…..I think we can try and make that work.” She said, with some confusion in her voice as if saying ‘start the day before Easter or you will rue the day’.  “Well call you back if that is an issue.”

With that, she hung up.

I turned to my professor who was in office with me, and said, with all seriousness, “Where is Wichita and what the heck is a wheat midd?”

Packing up all of my personal belongings in my ‘88 Pontiac Sunfire, I headed north, to the far reaches of Minnesota to spead Easter with my family, then onward to Wichita early the morning after Easter.

Lesson number one about the location of Wichita: it was a long way from the Upper Plains of Minnesota.

Showing up in Wichita, I was met at the door by one of the other merchants, a wiry, intense Texan that showed me around the office (a Czech like me, we still drink a beer whenever we can and is a good and trusted friend and advisor). 

Desk to desk, we moved around the office until I made it to the desk, my desk - with the person that I was too replace frantically trying to do two jobs.  Looking at me - he said, “You want to start today?”

“Sure!” I naïvely said.

“Great, here is your phone, here is your computer, here is your customer list.  Have fun.” (Side note - this callous gentleman remains one of my best friends to this day).

Whew.

I will admit the first weeks went by fast on the job.  I quickly found a place to live right along the ‘Are Kansas’ River (or the Arkansas River to the rest of the civilized world).  The Villa Del Mar (Village by the Sea) was one of the nicest apartment buildings on that section of the river.  And stood alone - literally - on that streatch of the river.

My first phone call to Dad to let him know that I’d started to get settled was a relatively quick one, but gave some of the best advice I’ve ever gotten.

Dad asked, “So, where is your apartment?”

“Its great Dad, it is about four blocks from church, eight blocks from the bars, and about twelve blocks from work.” I replied.

The phone was quiet for a minute, then Dad replied, “At least you got your priorities straight.”