Does being a powerful CEO with a lifestyle of Learjets, exotic parties and fast cars protect you from alcoholism? Of course not. Trouble is, it can make
you feel invulnerable.
My last office was a little over 1,600 square feet. It had a wood-burning fireplace, a bathroom with a sauna, and designer furniture from Knoll and the Museum of Modern Art in New York. There was an Andy Warhol on the wall. I had full access to three jets, two helicopters and four propeller-driven aircraft. As a Kentucky Colonel, I held court at the Kentucky Derby, making outrageous bets and lapping up Pappy Van Winkle Mint Juleps in sterling silver tumblers at a few hundred dollars a throw. I thought I was the protagonist of Morris Day and The Time’s song, “Cool”: “I might dine in San Francisco / Dance all night in Rome / I go any freakin’ place I want to, my Learjet brings me home.” I hung out with Morris and the boys in Jamaica one time, after they performed a private concert at a party I threw. Kid Rock was there, too. But beneath the power and extravagance, beneath the cool, I was afraid. My last office was a little over 1,600 square feet. It had a wood-burning fireplace, a bathroom with a sauna, and designer furniture from Knoll and the Museum of Modern Art in New York. There was an Andy Warhol on the wall. I had full access to three jets, two helicopters and four propeller-driven aircraft. As a Kentucky Colonel, I held court at the Kentucky Derby, making outrageous bets and lapping up Pappy Van Winkle Mint Juleps in sterling silver tumblers at a few hundred dollars a throw. I thought I was the protagonist of Morris Day and The Time’s song, “Cool”: “I might dine in San Francisco / Dance all night in Rome / I go any freakin’ place I want to, my Learjet brings me home.” I hung out with Morris and the boys in Jamaica one time, after they performed a private concert at a party I threw. Kid Rock was there, too. But beneath the power and extravagance, beneath the cool, I was afraid.