Ego

The untold story of Men’s Wearhouse—who better to write it than an insider with a passion for storytelling and a front-row seat to its rise?

“The Other Guy Guarantees It.”

That was the title of my first book. Over the years, many people have insisted that the Men’s Wearhouse story needed to be told. And who better to tell it than me—the Rutgers English graduate who once dreamed of writing the Great American Novel? It wasn’t destined to be that masterpiece, but it was a start. If Michael Lewis or Joan Didion could launch their careers with nonfiction, then I figured I had a shot.

Who else should chronicle the definitive history of Men’s Wearhouse? Perhaps the original founder—the familiar face on TV and radio, the icon with whom 99.8% of the country associates Men’s Wearhouse: George Zimmer. To the 14,000 employees who revered him, he was both a cheerleader and a hero. Meanwhile, I had the dubious honor of blending in so well at any MW store that I had to prove my employment by flashing my driver’s license and logging into the company email system.

I could have realized that writing the MW story was a fool’s errand, but my ego wouldn’t allow it. That was the first of several loud knocks on the door of my awareness.

LOUD KNOCK #2:
A publisher agreed to buy the book—on one condition. Men’s Wearhouse had to stock it in all 500+ locations, 20 copies per store, for an initial run of 10,000 books. For the publisher, 10,000 copies meant profit regardless of quality. Their deal hinged on securing George’s approval of the book’s content.

LOUD KNOCK #3:
George hated the book. He took issue with my frank references to the mistakes made over my 25 years at the company. “We rose from the ashes,” he insisted—a sentiment I shared, but one that I thought was obvious from the company’s continued success. He also objected to my comments about the questionable quality of the early leisure suits we sold like hotcakes—a criticism that struck too close to home, given that his father’s company manufactured them.

Undeterred, I believed the publisher still wanted the inside story of this well-known brand. But then, the publisher canceled my contract after I relayed George’s objections.

LOUD KNOCK #4:
After the cancellation, my agent resigned, bluntly explaining that publishers truly wanted George’s story—not mine. I wish I’d known this months earlier, but hindsight is always 20/20.

LOUD KNOCK #5:
Undeterred again, I completely reworked the book’s theme, focus, intended audience, and title.

Eventually, a different publisher—a glorified self-publisher—took the book. I had to pay upfront for its release, with my “advance of royalties” earmarked solely for marketing. Need I say more? I never saw a nickel in royalties.

The moral of the story:

1. If you ever want to be humbled, write a book.

2. Even I, the perennial second fiddle at Men’s Wearhouse, had an ego that needed satisfying—a best-selling business book seemed like the perfect remedy.

3. Like grapes crushed for fine wine, I had to be broken down before my efforts could transform into something worthwhile. And if I had to do it all over again, I’d still write a book—it was a lot of fun.

My book, Luck by Design… Certain Success in an Uncertain World is still available for as little as $4.70 on Amazon. If you have trouble finding it, let me know—I’d be happy to send you an autographed copy (or two, if you ask nicely).

What about you? Ever chased a dream that knocked you down more times than you can count—but still made it worth the fight? Share your story or your own “loud knocks” moments below.

TL;DR: Tried to tell the real story of Men’s Wearhouse. George Zimmer hated it, the publisher bailed, my agent quit, and I self-published. Ego bruised, lesson learned—but I’d still do it again.

P.S. If you liked this one, you'll love The Secret Sauce. Click here to read it now.