Paul was a creative guy, a writer, and a good one. Clean-cut, glasses, conservative dresser; would have assumed he was an account guy if you didn’t know better. Met him the first time downtown at McSorley’s. We hung out, had beers, told stories. Tells me he’s got the CrawDaddy account, an up-and-coming tech company, with their kick-ass cowboy CEO—an ex-Marine!—and wants my own Marine self to take him on. Perfect—at least for an advertising moment. More on that later.

Paul founded Marterelli & Partners in 2003, positioning his team as a feisty “ad store,” and soon established his agency as an early and proactive user of social media on behalf of their clients.

On my first day, he called the agency team together to introduce me. “Okay, guys, listen up,” he said. “It is my great pleasure to introduce Tim MacGhee, a kindred spirit if there ever was one. An adman in the truest sense of the word. New to our business, but he’s got a couple of years and some genuine leadership experience under his…ammo belt. A natural leader. A teammate. He’s joining us to, well, call CrawDaddy’s bluff and help us get their kick-ass brand on the Super Bowl!”

There was warm applause all around. A couple of whistles.

“Tim, as a small token of our sincere welcome, I want you to have this, a present from all of us.” He handed me a gift-wrapped box.

“Wow, this is amazing!” I patted my heart a few times. “Thank you, Paul. Thank you all.” They’d given me a really nice canvas attaché. I recognize the maker—J.W. Hulme. Damn!

“And by no means does this suggest that you are a bag-carrier.”

“Beautiful. And it sure beats the hell out of my Marine assault backpack!”

A genuinely wonderful reception. Turns out it was the perfect gift. I offered a few positive words of appreciation, and Paul showed me to my desk. That was day one, about three lifetimes ago.

Now I’m on my way back up to my corner cubicle on the fifth floor, and I’m getting universal smiles and nods in the hallways, colleagues glowing in the shared success of our Chubb meeting. Feels good. Word travels fast.

I’ve got time to kill, and here’s Ramon to help. As you can tell by now, I’m not one of those stuffed suits that wears his title on his tailored sleeve, looking down his nose. I love the troops. I’m a team guy. And over the years I’ve discovered I have a lot more in common with some of these guys than I do with my so-called peers.

“Everything work?” he asks.

“Like a charm. Thanks, as always. Well done.”

“I’m here to serve,” he says with a grin.

“So, meet you up on the roof?” I say.

“Let’s do it,” Ramon says. What a good guy. And a good partner.

“Okay, man. I’ll get it wrapped here—then I’ve got to run out for a quick stop. Back in a flash. Sun’s already dropping. See you upstairs.”