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The Kid Who Coulda Been a Contenda
The late 20's kid seems sharp enough, but he hangs with some losers. One of whom is himself.
I met him while he was an intern at the local Porsche dealership, in their very rigorous tech-training program. Given the car's country of origin, Germans and technical obsession are like politicians and money-favors: chemically bonded.
He was eager, clean-cut, clearly gifted for the craft of byzantine engine management systems that balance the immense power and pragmatism of the Porsche brand. This is a near-heart-surgical specialty among mere physicians. To a car guy, he "spoke" the language; to a typical customer, he could tone it down for comprehension.
In other words, an ideal Tech. Except for "the sickness."
After twenty six weeks of training, that are mind-numbing enough for a near 60% drop-out rate (some of their own volition, most due to Porsche's unwavering perfectionism) this kid got his head turned in two ways at once.
His inner voice repeated what had oft been said to him, "You're really good at this. You're going to make it." That was his confidence and drive talking. Yet a dysfunctional ego added a comment he'd never heard, "... and you should now be rewarded accordingly."
Not so fast.
He "forgot" the investment and sacrifice made for him. He disregarded the hierarchy of reward that follows proven work, clearly laid out from the beginning. He was blind to other players on the team funneling work his way, and handling myriad details thereafter.
Though his hands were adept and his head ever-increasing in technical knowledge, he began questioning management (a field about which he had zero training). "Why do you charge this?" "How much did that customer pay for this service?" "Why are these parts marked up so much?"
His next step sealed his fate, just as it has for countless thousands before and since...
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