This is uncomfortable. What is with this guy?”
Finally, Jack took a slight glance toward the old man. The old man immediately said, “Powerful, isn’t he? Such strength.”
“What?” asked Jack.
“Sam, the gorilla. He has such powerful strength. If we all had such confidence, success would be inevitable.”
Now, Jack was beginning to freak out. He had had those exact thoughts a few minutes ago. “Is this guy in my head? Who is this guy?” Jack’s thoughts were going a mile a minute trying to connect this seemingly impossible puzzle of an old (or should he say odd?) man.
The old man held out his hand, “The names Digger; Digger Jones.” Jack reached out in instinct and grabbed the old man’s hand. He was shocked at the strength of the old man’s handshake. It was firm, but not too firm. It was confident, but not arrogant. But those blue eyes were what really caught Jack’s attention. He couldn’t stop focusing on them. They were like a breath of sweet energy that burrowed their way into his soul. On arrival, a warm calm would envelope you down deep and soon encompass you with peace. Again, Jack thought, “Who is this guy?”
“So, what brings you to Sam’s house today?” asked Digger.
“Oh, no reason.”
“You don’t seem like a man who came for no reason.”
Jack sighed and reluctantly said, “Oh, I am having some trouble at work.” Why was he opening up to this man? Who is this guy?
“Not enough sales, huh?”
“How did…how did you know? How did you even know that I am in sales?” stammered a now very freaked out Jack.
“That is why I am here.”
“What do you mean that is why you are here?”
Digger looked at Jack with those piercing eyes and said in a calm, firm voice, “Jack, I have been sent to you. I can help you solve your challenge.”
“Who sent him? My boss? Mrs. Norris?” Jack’s inner thoughts were bombarding him with more questions…but no answers. “No, his boss didn’t really care and Mrs. Norris didn’t know he was at the zoo. And besides, how would she ever know a guy like this?”
“Who sent you?” Jack finally asked Digger.
A small smile formed on the corners of Digger’s mouth. “Don’t worry about that. Just know that I am here to help…and I can help you, Jack. Tell you what, meet me tomorrow morning at 7:45 AM at this address.” Digger handed Jack a shredded, wrinkled up scrap of paper with an address scrolled on it. “The Cincinnati Chamber of Commerce is hosting an event. There is someone I want you to meet. Just be there at 7:45 and a ticket will be waiting for you. I will see you tomorrow.” With that, the old man got up, smiled, and made his way out of the Gorilla exhibit.
As Jack bent down to tie his shoes the next morning, his thoughts continued to plague him. “What am I doing? Am I really going to this address? It is 6:30 AM. I could still be sleeping.” Jack finished tying his black Dockers dress shoes and he stood up. Jack had put on his best suit. It was a charcoal gray suit with a red pinstripe. Jack didn’t even know why he had put on his best suit. He just felt like…he was supposed to.
“Oh well,” Jack said out loud to no one, “I am going. I have made my decision. This Digger guy might be nuts, but I am curious now.”
Jack pulled into the parking lot at 7:32 AM. It was packed. “Man, a lot of people get up early around here,” thought Jack. After driving around for a few minutes, Jack finally found a parking spot a mile away (or what seemed like a mile away).
Jack walked into the big front doors of the Blue Ash Convention Center. He had heard about this place, but had never stepped foot into it before. He had never had a need to…until now.
He walked up to a temporary table that had been set up in the middle of the entry area. The table had a sign hanging on the front that read “Pre-Purchased Tickets.” Well, this must be the place. Jack gave them his name and no sooner, he had a ticket in his hand.
He looked down at the ticket and printed in big red letters were the words, “BREAKFAST WITH ZIG ZIGLAR.”
Wow, Jack had heard of Zig. Zig was a master salesperson. He had an old cassette that his dad had given him. He hadn’t listened to it for years. Zig is here? Maybe, this won’t be a waste of time after all.
“Jack! Good morning, my friend.” Digger came bounding up to Jack and grabbed his hand. “So glad you can make it. Do I have a treat for you. Follow me.”
Digger looked awesome. He was wearing a perfectly tailored solid black suit. You could eat off his shoes they were so shiny. His tie was a bright red with a matching handkerchief that was just peeking out of his left breast jacket pocket. He was wearing beautifully hand-crafted cufflinks that had the initials “DJ” imprinted on them.
Digger led Jack past the crowd of people and through a set of double doors. They were headed back stage. “Are you sure it is okay for us to be back here?”
“Oh yea! Don’t worry about it. I do this all the time.” On that, Jack had no doubt.
They walked into a little room and there he was… Zig Ziglar. Digger bellowed, “Zig, you are looking better than good my friend.”
“And, you clean up pretty well too. For the last few years, I have gotten so used to seeing you in a golf shirt and those ugly teal striped pants of yours. I was beginning to think that you didn’t own a suit anymore,” laughed Zig.
“Ha. Ha. Just because I still don’t travel all over the place doesn’t mean I don’t work…some of the time.”
They know each other. Who is this Digger Jones?
“Zig, I want you to meet a friend of mine. This is Jack Blake. Jack, this is Zig Ziglar.”
“Good morning, young man. Are you sure you want to hang around this guy?” laughed Zig. “He might hurt your reputation.”
“Ahh. Don’t listen to this old coot, Jack. I am like an old pair of shoes.”
“Nice to meet you, sir,” said Jack.
“Well,” started Digger. “Let me answer the question that is on your mind, Jack. ‘How do Zig and I know each other?’ We go way back. Years ago, we both got our start in sales in the cookware business. We sold the best pots and pans this side of the Mississippi. In fact, the best pots and pans on either side of the Mississippi. Zig was always trying to keep up with me. He was always ranked number two to my number one.”
“If I remember correctly,” started Zig in that southern draw of his, “those numbers were the other way around. But of course, your memory was always a little suspect Digger,” razzed Zig.
“Number one or number two, makes no difference,” said Digger.
“Yea, that is what the number two placed individual always says.”
“Well, anyway, we were both good.”
“On that, I can
