In a quiet suburban neighborhood of Orinda, Calif., in 1980, a man shot upright in bed. The young headhunter for Korn Ferry opened his eyes, saw a reading of 3 a.m. on the clock at the side of the bed and focused.
What he saw in his bleary mind’s eye was a resume. He could picture it clearly. And it had a life-altering significance. The shock of adrenaline stirring him to consciousness told him that.
But Tom Seip knew too that sleep would now be impossible because his mind refused to yield the name on the resume. So he jumped out of bed, threw on some clothes, wrote a note to his wife and drove through the dark to his company’s offices in San Francisco.
After rifling through his files on the floor of the office, Seip found what he was looking for: the vital information about a man named Larry Stupski.