So all week I get phone calls from the neighborhood wanting to know who this big provolone is who is asking all these questions about me, and why is he calling me “Joseph?” I laughed for the first three days. After that I forwarded all my calls to Margie’s line and left my business cell phone in my desk drawer. This guy was like Yukon Cornelius sniffing gold. Except he should have been this diligent when he was actually doing his due diligence. By this point in the negotiations, with no leverage at all, he was merely fact-checking me before facing his bosses and asking for seventy-five Million dollars.
That was my number. I had arrived at it several days before he called me. Now, I knew it was a little high, but I always go in high and come down to where I wanted to be all along. But I didn’t tell him this on the phone. What I did next was almost cruel. It was certainly dismissive and to be honest, I regretted it. I’d already broken this Mortodel and I was just picking at scraps. But I figured that when the day came to sign, I’d save his big butt somehow. For today I was having fun.
“George” I said, “I have to leave the office in an hour. I’m taking my boys deep-sea fishing. I’ll leave my number in an envelope with Margie and you can drop by and pick it up. If you call back, I’ll assume we have a deal. If I don’t hear from you, I’ll know we don’t and I’ll understand. And hey, George, even though you stiffed me at Felicia’s, it was nice meeting you. Have a good weekend.” and I hung up. I never even waited for an answer. If he showed up he was a beggar and the deal was done. I knew he was going to show up. In fact I figured he was jumping in his car right then in an effort to meet me face-to-face. So I wrote my number on a piece of paper and stuck it in a “Mezilli Trash and Cartage” envelope (Putting the entire name of our company on the envelope was a bit too much) and I left it with Margie. I smiled at her and said “When George Donham gets here, give him this. Tell him I don’t have my cell phone with me.” I said, waving my cell phone at her with a wink, as I left.
I took the boys down to Ocean City, Maryland for a shark fishing tournament and never gave the deal a moment’s thought. But George Donham sure did. That poor guy apparently didn’t sleep a wink all weekend because he blew up my cell phone with call after call at all hours. Not that I cared. I have a personal cell phone that only my friends and family have access to. I shut off the business cell phone on Fridays. It was a deal I made with Angie years ago.
Playing Hardball
Monday morning I pulled up to my office at seven AM. I was always an early riser and I liked getting to the office early and talking to the guys before they rolled out for their routes. I really liked my guys. All of them. They were quirky and calloused and difficult sometimes, but I also know they were loyal. I paid them well and they would have chewed through a cinder-block wall for me. I paid attention to birthdays and anniversaries. If a guy and his wife had a new baby, I sent Angie shopping with the credit card and orders not to come back with less than five hundred dollars’ worth of goodies. You get back what you give out. That’s true everywhere but especially in being a boss.
So I pull into my spot and there is the pretentious Jaguar of George Donham. It’s 6:47 AM and he’s talking to somebody on his cell phone. Loudly. I just don’t like this guy I thought. Then I thought to myself, You’ve broken his stones enough...take him seriously today. Okay. I will. As soon as he saw me, he shot out of his car like a swarm of bees had just flown in the passenger window. He stuck his hand out and I shook it. It was damp with sweat. Imagine what I was thinking already.
He followed behind me and straight into my office without waiting for me to invite him. “Take him seriously today...” I heard my own voice in my head. “Have a seat George.” I offered “You want a cup of coffee?” “No thanks” he said impatiently, “I can only drink one cup per day. It upsets my stomach.” “Huh” I thought, “Doesn’t look like anything else upsets that thing.” I made myself laugh at that, and for a moment I thought I had actually spoken the words out loud. “Take him seriously today...” this time it was my grandfather’s voice I heard whispering this to me. “Okay, okay.”
I sat down in my chair and he leaned in closer to my desk. His forehead was sweaty and he was pink around the lips. He seemed pretty nervous. “Joseph, I got your counter on Friday. That’s...it’s uh...well it’s a lot of money.” he finally blurted out. “I don’t think Waste International will pay this.” Oh dear, George, you just aren’t good at this at all. “So you never presented it to them?” I said, “You’re here talking to me on your own?” His puffy face fell. He realized he’d just shown his hand. He was afraid to take my offer to them. Even if they took it, he’d look bad and probably lose his cushy job as a corporate lawyer. And God knows what practicing attorneys are making these days. “Well you have a problem, George.” I smirked. “How are you going to tell them?”
Now, I knew what the guy was hoping I would do. He was hoping I would take far less and make him look like a champ. But I wasn’t giving away our company no matter what. So I did what Italian’s do best. I made the situation work for me.
“George, who is your boss at Waste International?” I said, phone in hand. “Who is the highest guy you answer to?” He squinted at me and licked his lips like they were going dry on him. He fumbled for words. Then he said “Uh...it’s uh...Richard Green. He is CFO and second in command. He oversees all expansion.” “Good!” I said, “What is his number?” Donham’s face went slack and his jaw dropped a little. “Huh?” “His number, George! What is Richard Green’s cell number?” I bellowed. I thought I sounded a little like Gomez Addams, and that made me laugh.
Donham spit the numbers out like a zombie. I tapped them into my phone and hit the dial button. George swallowed hard. He had no idea what was coming next but at this point, I think he felt like his job was at stake and he was out of options. Richard Green picked up on the second ring. “Mr. Green?” I said, “This is Joe Mezilli.” I said nothing more than that. I wanted to see what he said in return. If he pulled the “Mezilli...Mezilli?” and played it off like he didn’t know who I was, I’d be a little cold with him. If not, I knew I had a man I could talk to.
“Aah yes, Mr. Mezilli. How nice to speak with you. I assume Mr. Donham is there and provided my cell number?” Okay! This is a straight shooter. I can deal with a guy like this. “Yes he is right here.” I answered “He apparently feels like my offer is out of bounds and he wouldn’t even take it to you. He’s a tough customer, Mr. Green. He’s a good negotiator. You better keep him close by or I may hire him away from you.” Richard Green laughed loudly into the phone. Great, he has a sense of humor about him! George Donham looked at me like I had just saved his kitten from a tree. I winked at him. I can break balls with the best of them, but I can also shmooze. And I’m not out for anyone’s job. Donham will learn the ropes eventually.
Green and I spoke for fifteen minutes. He agreed to meet with me at his office, along with old George here, in an hour. I hung up and looked at George Donham. I thought that he would faint. He looked at me like I’d just shown up in the courtroom with the evidence that kept him from the electric chair. Maybe I had. “I’ll follow you over, George. We’re meeting with your boss at 8:30.” Donham sort of stared at me and his hands moved slowly into his pockets to get his keys. I put my arm around his shoulder. “How old are you George?” He looked at me funny, not expecting kindness in my victory. “I’m thirty-one” He muttered. “Well heck, George, a man doesn’t really learn his business until his thirties. You’re a good attorney George. Now find some passion to go with it. Skill is just skill until you have passion. Then you have a real career.”
I smiled as I said this, a little amazed at my own wisdom on the subject. It was very true. It was passion that gave me the insight to take what Giuseppe and my Old Man had started and made a model for the industry out of it. It wasn’t trash removal that was my passion, it was people. I genuinely liked all the guys who worked for me. I really liked being generous and helping people. Angie is the same way.
We relished taking care of Sylvia and Nonna and the local kids. We were like the Mayor and First Lady of the neighborhood. I was passionate about where I grew up and the people I grew up with and I felt the same about my children’s friends and their families. We had gotten a reputation for being the family that people came to for help, or advice. It’s in my nature.
So I follow George Donham over to the regional headquarters of Waste International where his office was, and where his boss was waiting. Richard Green was a nononsense man. I could tell that immediately. But he didn’t seem to take himself too seriously. I liked that. He welcomed me into his office and the three of us sat down for a moment at a large conference table. We talked in generalities. Getting to know each other. Finally he says to me, “So what is this offer that apparently I have to refuse?” Oh I liked this guy! He pulled a Godfather quote out of his bag. Granted he’d modified it a bit, but it worked better that way. I liked this move! It told me he was gutsy. He figured out right away that I was not a thin-skinned guy. I could laugh at a Jewish guy making a Godfather joke. Well played Mr. Green.
I pulled the envelope out of my pocket and slid it across the table to him. George Donham swallowed hard and I thought I heard him whimper ever so quietly. Grow a pair George, Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! I said this silently to myself, but I was almost certain that I was so forceful, that he’d heard it anyway. I hoped so.
Green opened it right up. No pause. No drama. More points for the Jewish guy. He read it without expression. Finally he looked up at me with a grin and said “Let’s take a walk.” He stood up and grabbed a pair of basketball shoes from under his desk and put them on. He had on a really nice pair of Johnston and Murphy’s and he slid them neatly into the spot where the Nike’s had been. “Nice choice in shoes.” I said. He winked and motioned to Donham to follow us.
We walked down a hallway and past a very nice break room. A few steps through a glass door and we were standing in a full sized gym. There was a basketball halfcourt on the far end and Green headed there. He grabbed a few balls from a rack and passed one over to me. “I hate basketball,” I said, laughing, “When I jump, you couldn’t slip a dime under my shoes.” Richard Green bellowed at that. He looked at me and said “Me too. But it helps me think. It’s in my blood.” “Oh yeah?” I asked “I didn’t know basketball was big with Jewish athletes.” He roared again. “Yeah...well in my family it was. Eddie Gottleib was a distant uncle or something. They owned one of the earliest teams and formed what became the NBA.” “No kidding?” I said, “Well I guess you come by it honestly.”
We shot hoops in silence for a few minutes. George Donham was under the backboard, dutifully retrieving balls and throwing them back to us. I felt bad for him. He looked like a chubby valet. I tossed him a ball. “Think fast Georgie!” I said. He caught the ball clumsily. “Show me your jump shot, barrister.” George shot Green a quick glance. Green laughed out loud. “Go for it George!” he said. Donham had remarkably good form for a guy who looked like he had a few basketballs stuffed in the backside of his trousers. He made seven of ten from the foul line. I applauded and hooted and hollered like it was Madison Square Garden. Donham smiled like a little kid. Like he’d not heard applause in a long time.
Richard Green dribbled mindlessly for a moment and finally I said, “Listen, boys. I love having male-bonding time with you both, but I have a business to run. Let’s talk about what we’re here to talk about and then I can get back to my office.” Green looked at me and half smiled. “You’re that certain I won’t take your deal, are you?” Without missing a beat, I shot back, “No, it’s just that it takes a few days to arrange a bank transfer for eighty million dollars.” Without as much as a blink I turned and shot a perfect free throw. “Swish!” I said with a laugh.
George Donham choked, then he spouted, “But your written offer was seventy-five million!” “Oh
Santino...Santino...” I said to myself, “How many times have I told you. Never tell anyone outside of the family what you’re thinking!”
I shot a knowing look at Green. He smiled slightly. “That’s how much his price goes to if we try to counter, George...” He said this to Donham but he was looking at me the whole time. I wisp of a smile played on his lips. “You’re no businessman, Green. You’re a street thug like me!” I said. Richard Green laughed. “Yeah there are some things they don’t teach you at Wharton. I’ll tell you what. I’ll play you in H-O-R-S-E. If you win I pay the seventy-five million. We’ll sign the papers this morning. If I win the price is sixty million. Deal?” “Deal” I said. I didn’t really care about the outcome. I actually only wanted sixty million to begin with, but I went in high and figured we’d settle at my number. I’d already won this negotiation. But I’m a competitor.
I beat Richard Green soundly. He got to H-O-R-S-E before I even got to the letter “O”. He was not happy about losing the game, but he didn’t care at all about the money. I think that was his number all along. He was red faced and a little winded. He shook my hand and said “I’ll have George draw up the papers.” We can have the money to you by close of business tomorrow. Just give him your attorney’s contact information.
“Sixty-five million is a lot of money to have lying around in petty cash” I said. Green looked at me quizzically. “Sixty five?” He shot back. “Yeah. I’m modifying the deal a bit.” Green cocked his head slightly and a grin came across his lips. “Nobody leaves ten million on the table Joe. What are you up to?” I laughed and said “You’re right, Richard. But here’s the thing. My family is beloved in that neighborhood. You aren’t just buying my routes and my trucks...and my landfill,” I shot a glance at George Donham and smiled a bit. “You’re buying my name. People love us because we’re one of them. We part of the neighborhood. I’m like the Godfather of garbage. So was the Old Man. You’re going to need some good will and a heck of an icebreaker.” Richard Green stuck the ball under his arm and got serious. “What do you have in mind?” he asked. I laid it out for him. It was a great plan and the neighborhood would benefit. In addition, he’d get the goodwill he would need, and I could retire knowing the old block would be well cared for. “You’re going to pay me my sixty-five million. Then you and I are going to partner on some charities in the ‘hood” I continued, “St. Rose’s Assisted Living needs a new wing. You’re going to donate two million in the name of Sylvia and Benny Mastofione and the wing will bear their name. Another two million to St. Monica’s Church for the charities ministries. And a million for the ‘Anthony Mezilli Sportsplex’ and ball fields. Uncle Tony will love that.” Green was smiling now. I carried on, “You put another five Million in an endowment for the neighborhood, to be administered by the neighbors. Whenever there is a need, they can go there for help. You spend ten million in tax deductable donations, instead of fifteen extra to make our deal fly. You get the tax breaks and the good will with the locals. I leave a legacy behind in the neighborhood. It’s good for everyone.”
Richard Green put his hand on his chin. He was smiling like a guy who had just seen behind a magician’s trick. “You are a master, Joseph Mezilli! A master!” He was laughing hard now. “I should hire you to do all my negotiations from now on!” I smiled and lowered my head. I looked up and winked at George. “Naah…you have Georgie here. He’ll be fine. Besides, I know you’re going to build it into the deal that I stay on for a year, I’ll teach him.” Richard Green walked over and shook my hand. He held it for a long time. Then he said to me, “Why?” he paused, “Why leave ten million on the table and instead turn it into ten million for the neighborhood and the church and the nursing home?” He was serious about his question and serious about my answer. I thought for a moment, and then I looked at him and said “Because I never forget where I am from, and because I really, truly, love people.” He smiled. It’s true. I really do love people. Turns out, that would be the start of all my problems. But that came later.
How do I Tell The Old Man?
The harder business lay ahead. I had t
o tell the Old Man and Nonna. I had to figure out a way to spread a little of the wealth within the family and still keep everyone’s pride intact. People think it’s easy becoming a millionaire, but to be honest, sometimes getting the millions is the easiest part. Some people should come with a label: “Instant Jerk...just add dollars”
The first thing I knew I had to do was talk to the Old Man. Now, my dad had given me the green light to complete this deal the day I got the initial offer from George Donham at Felicia’s. He said all the usual Italian dad things; “I’m proud of you.” “I never thought we’d ever be in this position.” and of course... “Jesus Mary and Joseph, did you use a gun?” He laughed when he said the last one, because I wound up with about three times what he’d thought we were worth. And that was before I negotiated.
Pop never saw the wisdom in the landfill deal. He remembered all the years that Nonno struggled and he was always partial to cash over assets. When the county told us they couldn’t raise the funds all at once to buy out our land in Hog Island, he was furious. “Forget the whole thing. We’ll sit on that land and let the Airport buy us out someday!”
I had to remind him that the airport was in no hurry to build new runways and cargo warehouses. It took a while but he relented and we did the land deal. Twenty years and a few million dollars later and he forgot his resistance to all that. Now here he was, about to be wealthier than he’d ever dreamed, and certainly beyond what his father ever hoped for.
I called him on my way back to the office and told him the deal was done. “Pop...” I said. “It’s done, Pop. The clock is now running on the final year of Mezilli Trash Hauling and Cartage.” He was almost perturbed. “Joseph I’m fertilizing the tomatoes right now. Can I call you back?” My old man and his tomatoes. Pop had a love – hate relationship with them. He loved to eat them. I mean loved to eat them. You want to see a man smile, give him a couple homegrown “Heirlooms” and a salt shaker and it would warm your heart. But he can’t grow anything. Uncle Franny and I got the green-thumb gene. It skipped my dad. But he tried every year. Every year he planted his tomatoes, watered them, fertilized them, prayed to St. Jerome, said a Novena. Still he got nothing like he’d hoped for. But that didn’t stop him.
The Legend of Joey Trucks: The Accidental Mobster Page 4
