Prologue

A Story of Self-Reliance

I learned at an early age that if I was going to be happy, I had to rely on myself.

I grew up in suburban metro Detroit. I was just a normal Jewish kid from amiddle-class family. My dad was a solo lawyer, doing general law stuff with an emphasis on personal injury. My mom was a retired school librarian andstay-at-home mom. When I was twelve, my parents divorced, and the world my sister and I lived in was shattered.

My dad remarried, but his new wife hated us. She would tell people when they asked her about “Joel’s kids” that they were dead to her. Lovely. My mom also remarried, and her new husband was physically abusive. My stepfather was a psychologist who lost his license for sleeping with a patient. As a result, we moved to another town, and I had to start high school without a single friend. This made me a target for some of the school bullies. They threatened me with beatings, but my cunning ability to avoid danger and talk my way out of threatening situations kept me safe. Still, this was not a very happy time in my life.

By the time I was fifteen, my survival skills were razor sharp. I started working—partly to get out of the house but also as a way to protect myself. If I couldn’t find comfort, protection, and stability at home, perhaps I could find it through work. So I took a job busing and waiting tables. This kept me busy. It’s not like schoolwork and friends were taking up any time. That’s one of the good things about working in restaurants. It is usually a bunch of misfits looking for connections and a job. My coworkers in thefifteen-plus restaurants I have worked in have always become my close friends and somehow part of my family. This is a real thing and happens in most jobs of this nature.

I’m not joking when I say that waiting tables taught me everything I needed to know to be a great trial lawyer.

Good evening, folks! My name is Michael, and I’ll be your waiter thisevening.

I learned how to think on