It was my first Hollywood movie premiere. Well, technically it was in New York City, but you know what I mean. It was a chilly night on Dec. 6, 2005, at the Ziegfeld Theatre on 54th Street in midtown Manhattan. A small but enthusiastic crowd lined the sidewalk. The front of the theater was ablaze with strobe lights lighting up the sky for the opening of the eagerly awaited film "Memoirs of a Geisha." Produced by Steven Spielberg and directed by Rob Marshall, it told the story of an orphan girl, trained to be a geisha in pre-war Japan, who finds forbidden love. And there, standing on the red carpet inside the lobby, was your humble columnist, flanked on either side by the film's two romantic leads: the Chinese actress Ziyi Zhang and the Japanese actor Ken Watanabe. How did I get there? For the answer, we must travel back in time to a bustling K-Mart store in Memphis, Tenn., in the summer of 1989.
I was on a Walmart real estate trip to look at a relocation of a smaller Walmart to a bigger store there in Memphis. We had stopped at the K-Mart nearby to check out the competition. Our guest on the trip was the head of Sam's Club, Al Johnson, a laconic veteran of the company who was about to teach me an important lesson that would ultimately lead me to my red-carpet moment.
There were five of us touring the store when Rob Walton asked the question, "I wonder how much sales this store is doing?" We split up to walk the store so as not to attract attention and then reconvened at the front door 15 minutes later. "The store did just over $18 million last year," Al announced to our group while a small smile flickered across his face. "And sales are up 2.2% for the year." Looking impressed, Rob asked "How do you know that?" to which Al replied, "Oh, I asked the store manager, and he told me."
Later, on the company plane, Al explained his simple technique. He would spot the store manager, walk up to him and start to quiz him just as if he were talking to one of the Sam's Club managers who reported to him. The K-Mart manager, clearly realizing he was speaking to someone from management, never gave a thought as to which company and assumed he was from the home office.
The science writer Maria Konnikova explains it this way. Our minds are built for stories. We crave them, and, when there aren't any readily available, we create them. Given the right cues, we're willing to go along with just about anything and put our confidence in just about anyone. Al never told the manager he was his boss; the man himself created that story. That happens in politics, relationships -- and even in a K-Mart.
So, on that cold New York night, coming back from a business meeting in coat and tie and seeing the crowd, I felt curious. I simply walked into the lobby with confident purpose. Past the police, past the press, and stood in the lobby like I owned the place. Soon, the movie was over and the two stars, seeing me, walked over, and stood at either side of me. Now what story they created about me, I do not know. "Did you like the film?' asked Ken Watanabe politely. With a slight grin I learned from Al Johnson, I replied, "Haven't seen it yet" and with that, strolled out of the theater. And that's my story.