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 |   Tales from real life |
| Well, if they're not true, they oughta be! |
Q: Where does a six-foot ten former pro basketball player sit? A: Anywhere he wants to! I was working at the Allen-Bradley sales office in Bellevue, Washington when I met Tom Black. He had a brief career in the NBA, playing for the Seattle Supersonics during the 1970-71 season. Tom passed away in 2017. I didn't know him well, but I'll always remember his oversized presence. Now owned by Rockwell Automation, Allen-Bradley is an industrial company that began making electrical components in 1903. Their products include switches, relays, and factory automation equipment. I worked there from 1984 to 1986 as a product applications engineer. In 1985, Allen-Bradley purchased a small company that made barcode scanners. I've forgotten the name of that company, but their Seattle area sales rep, Tom Black, was part of the deal. Of course, corporate didn't bother to tell us. We were a small office at the time, with only a half dozen employees, and our receptionist was at lunch when Tom showed up. He was carrying a cardboard box of sales brochures and desk supplies. I was closest to the front door, so I greeted this imposing figure with more than a little curiosity as to what he might be selling. "Hello, can I help you?" "Yeah," he smiled, setting the box down and offering a hand the size of a catcher's mitt. "I'm Tom Black and I work here. Where should I put my things?" I looked him straight in the sternum and said, "um, okay, sure." I led him back to an empty desk where he explained the situation while moving his things in. We laughed about the lack of communication from above and our office manager repeated my slack-jawed performance when he noticed the tall, dark stranger in town. Corporate hadn't informed him, either. I enjoyed Tom's company around the office, and I always marveled at his sheer size. We had cubicle furniture with five-foot high walls, just about eye level for me. One day, I saw Tom collating copies on the top of his cubicle shelf. What was eye-level for me was a handy work surface for him. Another time, we were enjoying a beer after hours and commiserating about receding hairlines and expanding waistlines. We each had our own sad tale about being out of shape. Tom joined in with his own unique take. "Yeah, it's tough alright," he agreed. "When I got out of pro ball, I swore I'd never let myself get over three hundred pounds. But damn it, here I am." |
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