Man 2.0 Engineering the Alpha

meant corporate servitude, and low-level corporate servitude, at that. My prospects looked grim. I was twenty-five pounds overweight, pissed off at the world, and desperate to change something, anything, everything in my life.
    And if dealing with anger, depression, confusion, a gut, and a healthy dose of teenage angst wasn’t enough, now I had this lady sending me down to the fucking basement of the fucking Gap to search for thirty white fucking polo shirts.
    It took me twelve minutes to find them all, even though we only had twenty-seven. Emerging from the cool, dark depths of the stock room laden with my perfectly folded cargo, I found the lady from the phone waiting for me at the counter.
    A short Italian woman with an infectious laugh, Marie—as I would later learn was her name—made it nearly impossible for me to remain grumpy. After all, anyone who reminds me of my own mother can put a smile on my face.
    I rang up the shirts, and I asked the obvious question: “Soooo, um, what does one need thirty—er, twenty-seven—white polo shirts for?”
    Turns out, her husband was opening up a gym. And after further questioning, I found out that it was merely five minutes away from my house.
    None of this would have seemed bizarre except for the fact that earlier that day, I’d mentioned to my best friend that we should join a gym and get in shape. With a swipe of her American Express and a friendly wave good-bye, she was gone and I was left with my thoughts.
    Two days later I walked into that gym, and in many respects I have never walked out.

    DISCOVERING YOUR MENTOR
    Marie’s husband was a man named Alvin. Good-looking and exceptionally well built, he was the first man over forty I had ever met who lifted weights seriously. Alvin shook my hand and showed me around the gym. As we passed the bench press, I mentioned that I held the school record from my high school football days. He gestured to the bench, “Show me what you got.”
    Perhaps that was a sales tactic of his. And perhaps my acquiescence was some innate need to impress him. I pumped out 225 for three reps while Alvin spotted me for the first time—but certainly not the last. He patted me on the shoulder, took care of my paperwork, and I was now a member of his gym. But more importantly, he was now a member of my life.
    Three weeks later, Alvin offered me a job, and all of a sudden I was working at the gym in one of those crisp white polo shirts, cleaning equipment and selling memberships. It wasn’t the most glamorous work, but it was better than the fucking Gap.
    That very day, Alvin would become my Obi-Wan, my Mr. Miyagi. He was my first mentor. He gave me books, taught me lessons, and paid for my first personal training certification. He introduced me to magazines I would later go on to write for. He encouraged me and pushed me.
    I worked at that gym for many years, first part-time between semesters and then, when I finished school, as a full-time trainer. I learned more there than at any other place in my life. I learned about training and how to work with clients. I learned sales and how to deal with people professionally. I discovered how to manage a staff, and started my first business there. Finally, when I was ready, I eventually left to start a new venture that led to this point.

    THE CALL
    It wasn’t until years later, when I was writing a blog on Campbell, that I realized my life had changed because of thirty white polo shirts. That phone call, however strange, set into motion a series of events that pulled me from my depression, changed my body, and shaped my life.
    That phone call introduced me to a place and an industry where I would find a home. And it helped me create a skill set that I could use to help others for years to come. In some ways, this book is because of that phone call.
    Are you ready for your call?
    In every person’s life, there are calls. Some are literal—like mine—and others are figurative. Perhaps it’s not quite as obvious as Princess Leia’s plea for the aid of a Jedi Master, but it doesn’t matter. Your job is to be aware that such calls exist. And when they arrive, you must rise up to the challenge and listen to the opportunity. I heard the Call to Adventure in that very moment in the Gap, and responding to it changed my life in every way possible.
    Now it’s time for you to hear yours—and to accept the challenge. We’re here to make sure that you won’t miss out on the greatest journey of your