By 1974, I was eager to break into the graphic art field. Knowing the job market was tough and still recovering from the 1973 gas shortage, I responded enthusiastically to a few “Help Wanted” ads in the Washington Post Sunday edition—yet each time, I was turned down. The reason? “Lack of experience,” I was told.

I was disappointed but not surprised. I knew it wouldn’t be easy. So, I improvised.

For my next three calls, I adjusted my pitch: I told them I was willing to work for free in exchange for experience. To my surprise, all three agreed to appointments.

I scheduled the interviews for next Wednesday to allow myself time to prepare. I was excited that my plan had succeeded—now, I had to be completely ready.

I retrieved the only suit, shirt, and tie I owned—hidden in the back of the closet, unused for several years. After all, this was the era of hippie culture, when everyone wore jeans and Army Surplus clothing. I washed and ironed everything, then hung it in the living room to air out, so I could try it on and get used to the feeling of wearing suits.

Next, I started working on my portfolio. It consisted of college art projects, class assignments, and a few pretend designs I had made earlier in preparation for interviews.

On Wednesday, I woke up at 5 a.m. to get ready and arrive early—just in case. I’ve always believed that the worst way to start a job interview is with, “Sorry, I’m late.” Not only are you rushing and flustered, but your mind is in a panic before you even begin. If you’re going to be late, it’s better to reschedule. In contrast, arriving early gives you time to relax, take in your surroundings, and leave a good impression. More often than not, they’re the ones who say, “Sorry to keep you waiting!” That flips the script—suddenly, you’re in control, calm, and composed.

Later, as an employer myself, I believed in giving people second chances. But if a job candidate showed up late, the first thing I’d ask was, “Why?” If their excuse didn’t fly, I’d gently let them know they’d already scored a negative point.

My first two interviews were scheduled close together in Old Town Alexandria, just a 15-minute drive from my apartment. The first was at 8:30 a.m., the second at 9:30, and the last one at 11:00 in Arlington, about a 30-minute drive away. I had carefully planned everything and felt confident and prepared.

I got dressed, grabbed my large portfolio case, stepped into my Mustang, said a quick prayer, started the engine, and headed out—an hour and a half early, at 7 a.m.

I eased out of my neighborhood onto a narrow road that looped back past my apartment toward US Route 1. But before I even reached the main road... the clutch gave out.

I couldn’t believe it. Murphy’s Law: “Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong.”

I hit the brakes. My Mustang came to a stop. The clutch was gone.

There was no time to panic. This was the most important day of my new career. And this was 1974—no cell phones, just the landline back at my apartment. Thank God I’d left early.

I collected my thoughts. I needed to find a phone first.

Through the woods, I saw the entrance to my apartment building. I grabbed my portfolio case and hurried—straight through the woods—and reached my front door in less than a minute.

Inside, I called my first appointment and explained my situation to the man on the phone, asking if I could reschedule. He said, “Don’t bother if you can’t be here on time.” He didn’t believe me—and hung up. That dampened my hope.

The irony was that my clutch had broken about a couple of weeks earlier, and I took it to the same dealership since the car was under warranty and the dealership was just on the edge of Old Town Alexandria, not far from my place.

I called the dealership and explained that they had fixed the clutch just a week ago, and now I was facing a dilemma. I asked if they could send a tow truck to retrieve the car. To my surprise, the dealership responded quickly. “It’ll be there in less than 30 minutes,” the man said. That was the first positive break I got—and it rekindled my hope. I thanked him and asked if I could ride with the tow truck to the dealership. He said yes.