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03/16/2005: "Eulogy for Mike Picc"
I arrived at the Lucent Technologies office, having flown down to Tampa Bay Florida that morning. I was directed to what was called the “WAR” room for the project I was to work on. As I entered the room and surveyed the dozen or so people in the room my attention was drawn to a group of four or five people engaged in what appeared to be a “lively” discussion. At the center was a large man. Not just large physically, although he was, but clearly the person everyone was listening to and trying to understand and persuade. I listened. He clearly commanded the respect of the entire team. I knew this was someone I would like to get to know.
Thus began my association with Michael Piccirillo. It was a while before we became friends, I don’t think he had much use for me at first. But I certainly had use for him. He fascinated me. He had, what our Project Manager called, one of the best, “I don’t give a shit” attitudes in the business. He gave his analysis, and gave off the definite message that he didn’t really care if you took his advice or not. He was there to give advice, and he had done his job. This had the result of giving his opinion even more weight. He clearly knew what he was talking about.
After I was there a few weeks, he started to talk to me. I like to think that he decided that I too knew what I was talking about, but perhaps that is just my vanity. At one point he was extolling the virtues of raw oysters, and I admitted that I had never tried them. He made it clear that I was not going to sleep again in that epicurily deprived state. That evening we went out for what became the first of many after work dinners. We found a small restaurant on the beach, and kept ordering plates of oysters and beers as we talked and watched the sun set over the Gulf of Mexico. He introduced me to oysters, with lemon, horseradish and cocktail sauce.
We became close over the years that followed. We had a lot in common. Our families, our jobs, our health issues, and our general outlook on life. We helped each other through feeling guilty when our families had to deal with problems in our absence. He purchased and moved to a new house while working in Florida. We commiserated about the difficulties of the life we were living.
He talked about our married lives, about dealing with the emerging sexuality of our children. We discussed our ailing parents. I talked to him when my mother died, and he called and talked to me when his mother died.
We both struggled together with our weight. We joked about it. The consulting firm we were going to start was called “HeavyWeight Consultants”. We vowed never to hire anyone under 250 pounds. “Hire the heavyweights, “we will tip the scales in your favor.” “Let us weigh in on your business” were all marketing slogans we wanted to use. This was our way of supporting each other in our lives. I don’t know if anyone else gave me the kind of validation and strength that Mike did.
We discussed sleep Apnea, and CPAP machines, we discussed walking in airports when our knees and feet and back and hips and lungs were crying in pain. I don’t believe there was anyone else I could share these struggles with.
I remember one time when he had a complaint filed against him for “disrespectful body language”. There was a young person who was hired for a position she was clearly not qualified for. This was common in those days, as corporate salary scales did not allow companies to attract and retain people with the skills they needed. That is why they relied so heavily on consultants like Mike and myself.
Mike had no patience with her but he didn’t say anything. At least not out loud. When she spoke in meetings he often pushed back in his chair, looked at the ceiling, rolled his eyes, dropped his pen, and stopped taking notes. When she was done, he just went on with the meeting as if she had not said anything.
This woman was reduced to tears, and filed a complaint against Mike. At the meeting about the complaint Mike said, “I didn’t realize she was that perceptive, my opinion of her just went up”. Our PM did not think this was funny, and Mike was properly reprimanded. He responded by taking this women under his wing, teaching her and the two of them became, if not friends, at least student and collegue.
He made a bet with me one time that he could get a key to the war room. It was strictly against policy for consultants to have keys to rooms, and this was a problem. We often got to work early, before any Lucent employees and we needed access to the room. We agreed that if he got us a key, I would call him Sensei, and he could call me grasshopper.
Later he told me I had snatched the rock from his hand, and no longer was his grasshopper. He was only half joking.
For the last 10 years we worked together in three different consulting firms, and freelanced on a project together. Through the magic of cell phones, e-mail, and instant messaging, we kept in touch over the years. We talked about the stresses of looking for jobs after the layoffs of the post IT boom. About having to work for idiots and greedy consulting firms, and the insanity of how Corporate American was responding to the current challenges. We should have started a business together, but the pressure to support our families kept the lure of regular paychecks irresistible.
As we walked through a sea food festival in Southern New Jersey with his kids and his wife eating oysters, lobster, and shrimp, I remember him as really happy. He was proud of all of his kids, bragged to me about the school his wife started and ran, and even liked is son’s girlfriend. I will keep that memory and treasure it. I will remember him as happy, surrounded by people he loved and who loved him. I was glad to be one of them.
David Tilsen
3/15/2005