Lyle

I have a signed copy of “See You At The Top” by Zig Ziglar.

The book, as described on Ziglar.com, “stresses the importance of honesty, loyalty, faith, integrity and strong personal character. It’s basic premise – you can have everything in life you want if you will just help enough other people get what they want.” Lyle Arneson, a disciple of Ziglar’s, gave it to me when he hired me for a job thirty-two years ago.

Lyle, fifty-nine at the time (I considered that old at twenty-five), also gave me an opportunity I probably didn’t deserve. However, true to Ziglar’s advice, Lyle was helping me get what I want, which was a job and a way to provide for my young family.

The “interview” process consisted of a written test to judge my sales acumen, several meetings between the two of us where we just talked, and a final interview with his boss at the Perkins on Highway 100 in Edina. I drove through a heavy snowstorm and arrived more than an hour late. When his boss in the tailored suit, cufflinks and pointy shoes suggested that I should be ashamed of my previous job as a garbage man, Lyle defended me by pointing out that it demonstrated a willingness to work and an ability to do whatever it takes to provide for my family.

Lyle was one of the few people I have met in life who could get the immediate, undivided attention of the person on the other end of the phone call. “Hi, this is Lyle,” delivered in a smooth tenor tone, while pleasing to the ear was both disarming and intimidating. Although he was small in stature, it took only seconds for your view of him to be that of a very powerful man, and that was true whether you were talking with him on the phone or face to face.

My dad described Lyle as “polished.” “He could tell you to go to

Hell and have you looking forward to the trip.” I was in a meeting of Lyle’s district sales force one day when he announced the date of our next meeting (as something like), “Thursday, the 21^st.” When I reluctantly told him that the 21^st was on a Wednesday he replied, “Just a minute,” and left the room.

“Oh my gosh,” I told the group, “he’s going to change the calendar.” We laughed, but wondered what could be impossible for Lyle.

Lyle was wealthy but never flaunted it. For instance, he drove a Ford Tempo, a fine automobile to be sure, but it was not a luxury sedan. He treasured time with family and getting his hands dirty. He loved to come out and help my wife, Rhonda, in the garden and entertain our two little children with his perfect Donald Duck impersonation.

His humble beginnings included being a teacher and a coach – wonderful training for his role as a sales manager. Like everyone else, I always wanted to please Lyle and make him proud of me. He would often tell me to slow down when I was writing, as he thought that would improve my almost illegible penmanship.

I learned much from Lyle and I will be forever indebted to him. He passed away last Sunday with a view from the top.