Lobster on the Grill


It was 1989, the year I married for the first time, my brother died and I met Kevin Lentz. It’s hard to wrap my head around the 25-plus years we knew each other. Back then, we worked together and competed as salespeople selling Encyclopedia Britannica. (They were books.)

Kevin got promoted to be my manager. I was like, “Oh, hell no!” At the time, I held loyalty to the on-his-way-out (criminal) manager.

I was 25. I threatened to quit because they were firing my “friend.” Kevin pointed to all the sets of books missing from the storage cages. He was direct and correct. I was wrong, blind and defensive. Kevin wasn’t deterred.

He said, “Look Alice, the guy’s a thief. I mean, what do you think happened to all those books? Why would you let what he did change what you’re doing?”

So, I didn’t quit. I stayed for as long as I could. Not because of Kevin. Hell, Kevin came and cooked lobster on the grill for my husband & I. He knew how to win me over as a friend and respect me as a salesperson.

That kind of sales manager is rare. The same is true of a good husband, but that didn’t stop me from leaving a couple in my wake.

When that first husband said no, he would not help me leave him, Kevin loaded boxes into my 5×8 U-Haul trailer and hooked it up to my little black Honda CRX for me to drive away.

It was 1990, the year I drove away from that office and that husband, but not out of Kevin’s life. Thank God.

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