Page 107 - How To Get Rich

5:30P.M. I review a pile of legal documents, making short notes on
them for response by my assistants tomorrow morning. If we didn’t keep
up with our correspondence several times a day, we’d be sunk. I receive
requests from people in every industry under the sun, moon, and stars

combined. My daily delivery includes submissions from artists,
musicians, screenwriters, architects, authors, poets, comedians, chefs,
designers, actors, shoemakers, and more. That’s a condensed list. I also
receive bundles of cookbooks from a lady in Illinois several times a year.
Why she does this is beyond me. She must know that one of the few things
I don’t do is cook.
6:30P.M. Enough ruminating. I check my faxes and go upstairs.

FRIDAY
8:30A.M. The electrical contractors call in with some bogus claims
about why they’re way off schedule. They’ve been slacking off on the job.
I’ve been watching them carefully and know exactly what their problem is,
and proceed to tell them so. They get the message and promise me they
will get back on track. We’ll see. I believe about twenty percent of what

contractors say, and that’s on a good day. They know what I mean.
9:00A.M. I take a call from Dick Levy, a real gentleman, then I ask for
a Diet Coke. Another call concerns an ad I placed about slot machines at
the racetracks in New York, which I’m against. Without countless layers
of security, it will not be in the public’s best interest, and I therefore
mention that it is obvious the ground under our racetracks is most fertile
for growing organized crime. The ad contains a photograph of Al Capone,

with the caption He would have loved it. The bottom of the ad says, Paid
for by a Committee of one, who may not always be right, but knows what’s
wrong. I think the point is made.
Rhona asks about the Giants game next week, and I decide to go. I
return calls from Bo Dietl, Vinnie Stellio, and Ivana, and place a call to

Jim Griffin of the William Morris Agency. David Granger calls;Esquire
magazine is using an apartment in Trump World Tower as an example of
the ultimate man’s apartment, the Esquire Apartment. I have to agree with
him that it’s the ideal place.
I take a call from a writer doing an article on motivation and
leadership. One of the questions asked is how I handle a person who
consistently makes the same mistakes. I tell them the truth: I don’t.
They’re working for someone else now.