JD is a guy I look up to. He is a brilliant writer with excellent PR instincts. When I started this job in 1999 as an English and professional writing graduate with no experience outside my uncle’s bar, I got the sense right away that JD was different.
My first assignment was to shadow him for a few days and assist him with whatever “communications” tasks came our way.
It was very clear from day one that all the work was going to be done by me.
“Tony, draft a handbill. Tony, draft a press release. Tony, draft this letter …”
I would, of course without any further direction, do exactly what I was asked and e-mail the results to JD, who would offer some generic compliments and then return my work several days later completely rewritten in Microsoft Word’s unmistakable redline/strikeout format.
Those first few projects were tough, but it was certainly clear that JD was an excellent editor. His suggestions were always welcome, and as time passed, I adapted to his style, meaning fewer edits every time out.
Beyond that first assignment, I only worked with him sporadically. Every once in a while, somebody would call me in a panic with a similar story.
“Tony, we’ve been waiting for JD to finish drafting this [handbill, release, billboard design, letter, etc.], and we’re on deadline today and can’t get him on the phone. Can you draft something real quick?”
Now, JD has an MA in writing and has always been and will always be a better writer than I am. No doubt about it.
Apparently, however, JD had a hard time with deadlines, and showing up for work on time, if at all, was something of a problem for him. In fact, he missed more deadlines than he made, which is especially problematic if you’re the kind of person whose job depends on your ability to deliver content on time.
It led to his departure from our mutual employer about a year ago, which is a shame because JD is such an amazingly talented guy. He blames adult ADD, and I’m not in any position to argue with his doctor.
That said, he got away with a lot of stuff over the course of the last seven years I worked with him. More precisely, he got away with doing just about nothing most of the time.
One time, as was his habit, he answered a call on the speakerphone.
“Mr. JD, this is the Allegheny County Coroner’s office calling. There’s a dead body on your couch.”
“Oh, man,” he said, “I guess I better get home then, huh?”
One of his son’s friends O.D.’d during an overnight stay. I wish I could say that was the beginning of the end, but it wasn’t. It was just another day in the life of JD.
When I arrived for work on Monday with my Timbuk2 laptop bag and very little else, the person who’d taken over JD’s office literally jumped up and volunteered to move to another floor in our building to clear the space for me.
Now, I didn’t realize at the time that I would inherit his telephone extension too. For whatever reason, I was too freaked out this afternoon after I’d moved my very few belongings into my new digs to even set up my own voicemail, so I had the secretary do it.
Tonight, I called my wife and gave her my new work number, along with the history of who it belonged to before me, and she laughed.
“That’s the guy who came to our house a few years ago for a news conference on Thursday and didn’t leave until Monday!”
“Yeah,” I said. “That’s him.”
