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During my first wedding at age 22 – three weeks after the partial meltdown of nuclear reactor No. 2 on Pennsylvania’s Three Mile Island – college fraternity brother Hank West grabbed the small remaining dollop of my brown forehead hair, proclaiming to the entire wedding party, “Two Mile Island!”
In Greenville, South Carolina, I caught the eye of the young cavalier publisher, Bern Mebane, who had a penchant for promoting managers and then assigning and deploying patronizing nicknames.
Whenever I entered his orbit the next three years, he’d proclaim – “Herr Schroder!” – cleverly mocking my German last name and, it seemed, my departing hair.
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– Chris Schroder, The 100 Companies