Years ago, I had an enormous stroke of luck.  I was a commercial real estate loan officer for a large bank, and one of my clients was a company of young guys like me.  They built and owned large apartment projects in Houston.

One day, after we closed a multi-million dollar loan for another of their projects, the company's president, Alan Rudy,  asked me to come to work for them.  It meant moving my wife and me to Houston where we had few friends and certainly where living and getting around in a big town would be new to us.

But the company was going to more than double my salary, there were profit participations on top of that, and I was invited to get with their office designer and have her decorate and furnish my new office just like I would like it.  And looking at the other guys' offices, that meant elaborate with a big E.  I didn't see how life could get any better than that for a 35 year old, so we accepted.

My first REAL day of work came, and I sat down in my big chair behind a desk that went from here to there and back, and wondered how and why God had shown his light on me to give me this opportunity when so many were more qualified.  I hadn't even prayed for anything like this.

Then the intercom buzzed.  Frances Van Horn the receptionist said, "Mr. Cherry, your insurance man is here to see you."

"What?"

"Your insurance man is here to see you."

I didn't have or need an insurance man.  My daddy ran a sales force of several thousand insurance agents throughout the US, for goodness sakes.  And then I thought, I'll bet as a joke he's sent one of his men by to see me.  So I went up to the reception room. 

There was this gray haired man with a gold cross on his left lapel and an American flag pinned below it.  He had a huge smile on his face. 

Before I could check my mouth, the whole room heard me say, "Who in the world are you?"

"Bill?  Bob Bennett," he said.  "Bob Bennett with Phoenix Mutual Life."

I said, "Mr. Bennett, I'm glad to meet you," as we shook hands, "but why do you think you're my insurance man?  There must be some mistake."

"There's no mistake. You got an insurance man in Houston?"

"No."

"Well, now you do," Mr. Bennett said with his huge smile. 

Is that the most fabulous cold calling approach you've ever heard, I ask you?  I mean really!

Mr. Bob Bennett is still my insurance man.  He's in his middle 80s and I'm just a smidgen past my middle 60s.  So our friendship and business relationship has lasted a long time.  More than 30 years.

I know you have one more question, so let me answer it for you.  My daddy wasn't a bit happy when he found out that I was buying insurance from someone who wasn't one of his agents, but I asked him when he broached the subject, where his agent was that morning? 

"Still in bed?" he hesitantly asked.  "Probably," I answered.

And finally, the company where Mr. Bennett and I met for the first time?  Working there was one of the most exciting and wonderful times of my entire career.  I'll tell you more about it someday.