YiseGuys: Profiling Men who view the world through different eyes, in pursuit of a better life for themselves and their families.

By Russ Moore

There has never been a greater time to bring together the tales of Men from around the globe.

History is created with the birth of every Man and the stories he leaves behind for generations to come can only be shared if they are told. My own father passed away with much of his life r

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sharanis Lifestyle Group Pty Ltd
• Release date: Apr 1, 2021
• ISBN: 9780645081114

Russ Moore

Russ Moore is a veteran newspaper and magazine publisher, writer and editor. Death at Buzzards Point is his first novel. His short stories were published in P’AN KU magazine, Fiesta Magazine and The Banner News. His work as a writer, editor and publisher has earned him national recognition. As editor of P’AN KU magazine the magazine was rated number one by the Columbia Press Association. He was recognized as one of the top 25 young business people in the nation for his work as publisher of the Banner News. The publications that he has worked in as Writer, Publisher and Director include Fiesta Magazine, The Banner News, The Miami Herald and the Sun Newspapers. Moore is a veteran newspaper and magazine professional and in Death at Buzzards Point he draws on his experience in South Florida. While a work of fiction, the book draws on his experiences and the life and times in South Florida during his early years as a writer and editor in Davie Florida.

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Copyright © Russ Moore

First published in Australia in 2021

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the copyright owner except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. Although the author and publisher have made every effort to ensure that the information in this book was correct at press time, the author and publisher do not assume and hereby disclaim any liability to any party for any loss, damage, or disruption caused by errors or omissions, whether such errors or omissions result from negligence, accident, or any other cause. This book is not intended as a substitute for the medical advice of physicians. The reader should regularly consult a physician in matters relating to his/her health and particularly with respect to any symptoms that may require diagnosis or medical attention.

National Library of Australia Catalogue-in-Publication data:

Yise Guys/Russ Moore

Success/Self-help

ISBN: 978-0-6450811-0-7 (sc)

ISBN: 978-0-6450811-1-4 (e)

DEDICATIONS

I can think of no other man to which I would like to dedicate this book than my father. He was a consistent presence in my life as a child. It was he who attended my football games, and he who collected me from work in the evenings. He who was out of bed before me each day and he who constantly worked his large, rough hands with the strength of a bull. He loved and protected my mother Pearl (née White), for over fifty years, and was home with his family every night of the year. A man of few words, he left my world with many of his stories still untold. I was never going to be ready to say goodbye and will remain forever proud that my five children Taylor, Zoe, Alex, Harrison and Portia bear his name.

Charles Angus Victor Moore 1916 -1996

To the one woman who has consistently encouraged me to be the best man I can be, loved me unconditionally, and stood with me side by side. She has, at all times, put our family above all else, and maintained the vision of a life full of experiences as the only life worth living. To her, there is always a way, and because of her thinking, today we live our lives as we wish, not as we need. I will be forever grateful for her persistence, courage, creativity and above all, her love.

My wife and true partner in life, Shar Moore x

FOREWORD

To the men who join me today as we launch the first edition of YiseGuys, thank you on behalf of the many who will read this book, for it is you who have shown us there are different paths to follow that can deliver us from a life expected by others. Our lives can change in an instant without our input or over time. It does not need to be so. In this book it is you who have bared all, so others can find themselves. It is you who confirms their lives are exactly how they should be, full of experiences, challenges, family, love and understanding.

So, thank you!

Russ

Hope and inspiration - without these two factors, life is meaningless. Hope for what could be and the inspiration to go and make it happen, to make this world a better place for those around them and for those they love. Human beings seek their hope and inspiration from many sources, however one that stands out for me is the hearing of the journeys of others. There is immeasurable value in learning about people who have dreamed big and had the resilience and determination to achieve it, no matter what obstacles lay in their path.

The world is in desperate need of hope and inspiration right now. I have known Russ for over twenty years and I believe the true life stories he has brought together within the pages of Yise Guys will truly spark hope and give one a real sense of purpose and belief in themselves that they really can go and make a difference, in whatever capacity they desire.

Peter Cox

CONTENTS

RUSS MOORE

REG MALHOTRA

DAN CROSS

JULIAN SUTHERLAND

JOE DAGERFORDE

CHRISTOPHER GOLIS

GARY DOHERTY

SHANE PRICE

CIARAN WARD

TONY BRADFORD

DAVID MACDONALD

PETER BORG

JEFF BANKS

ANDY PROSSER

PETER COX

RUSS MOORE

Six seconds

In a space of just six seconds a sense of doubt crept in, casting a shadow. One, if I had let it, would have stayed with me for the rest of my life.

It’s 2008, and I am twenty years into a career that provided me the opportunity to travel, my singular passion in life. Being a believer of defining moments if presented, I sat there searching for an answer. What am I really doing here? There I was atop a fuel oil storage tank, well, nearly anyway, staring out towards the Arabian Gulf from Shuweihat Power Station Complex, not far from the border between the United Arab Emirates and Saudi Arabia.

As I had on many occasions, I’d elected to hit the tools that night to complete and invoice a job to bulk up the month-end sales. Yes, we had teams of men tasked to do that, however, they were all on other jobs. We were tracking well, but I needed the numbers as I was expecting the next month to be quiet as we entered Ramadan. It’s 9.00pm, still forty-three odd degrees coupled with unbelievable humidity. Every surface was smooth, slippery, and as I was soon to learn, quite dangerous. Slipping into my safety harness, I hooked on to the safety cleat in the middle of the tank. I was there to lay down the non-slip walkways, so the operators could safely make their way out to the sampling points dotted around the tank top. In hindsight, the irony of what was to follow has not been lost on me.

No sooner had I lugged the gear to the top and surveyed the area to be marked out, when I lost my footing. At first, I was merely surfing the smooth surface, remaining upright until I reached the point where I thought it may be best to lie down and shed some speed. Seconds later, I approached the edge where the safety barrier would normally be on the outer rim of the structure. Realising a large section of the bottom rail was missing, I braced myself, wondering if I would be able to stop. As it turned out, it was part of the maintenance being carried out. Nice to know, I thought. Mind you, I would have preferred a little heads-up.

Reaching up, and with an increasing velocity, my hand merely grazed the painted and well-lubricated top handrail and over I went. To say there was a lot going through my mind at that point is an understatement, not the least of which was the anticipated pain I was about to experience.

I was not to be disappointed as the slack of my tether strap reached its limits and jolted me violently to a standstill slamming against the side wall of the tank. So here I was, hanging half upside down some twenty metres above the ground. With a thumping headache and a growing list of aches and pains, I just hung there for a moment gathering my thoughts.

After a while, I made my way awkwardly up the strap and back on top, but that six seconds of pain and fear had thrown me into a tailspin. One, I should not have been working alone at that height. You just don’t do that! Two, I had let the almighty Sales Budget dictate the risk I was prepared to take. And three, I had just put everything else on the line ahead of my wife and children.

Yes, there were a few expletives, and yes, I just wanted to go home and send a crew back the next day. My problem was and has always been that I allowed my life to be ruled by the Sales Budget; so much so that it would often outweigh my commitment to those I loved at home, those who loved me and needed me to be more present. I stayed and finished the job that night in great pain, my head full of questions and doubt.

Until that point, I had always been confident in the direction my life had taken. I had made decisions, some of which created controversy, but I always made my decisions work. But at that precise moment something changed in me, changed in a manner from which I knew I could not return. The following morning, I returned to our home in Abu Dhabi, crawling quietly into bed to nurse by aching body, keeping both the events of the previous night and my thoughts to myself. I never told a soul, possibly in the belief that it would shake my confidence in my ability to provide for my family.

I’d held state-wide roles in Australia, expat roles in Sales Management, Directors roles in large and small companies in South East Asia and the Middle East. And I’d put myself in less than safe environments in unfamiliar countries in the belief, or now I understand it to be, my false cloak of protection supporting my family.

In 2009, we returned to Australia ending an eight-year stint abroad, richer for the experience, more children than what we left with, and happy to reach our welcoming shores. It was nice to be home. This time we chose Queensland.

The cycle continues

An Australian company had relocated our family home in exchange for a multi-state role for me. I left for initial meetings at head office two days later. Whilst my family was in search of a new home to live in, driving around in a hired car full of suitcases, I was sitting comfortably in a suite in a Melbourne Hotel. And unaware of the turmoil they were in. I am embarrassed to even think about that today. In reality, my dear wife Shar spent the first twenty years of our married life together watching me live out of a suitcase from week to week. Under pressure, coming home grumpy, exhausted and not the best in conversation. Soon a serious car accident threw my control mechanism into chaos, and once again, I questioned my cloaked existence. I wasn’t hurt, but upon reflection, I was just plain lucky considering the circumstances and that I was a long way from home. Again, my confidence was shaken and again I had to ask myself, seriously, what was I doing?

A change in role two years later saw me step back into Heavy Industrial Sales with a Chicago-based engineering company. I felt like I was home. The problem was, though, I had re-entered the maelstrom of travel, lonely nights and long days on the road, with many flights to take across the three large Australian states I managed. Although looking back it was the best job I ever had, deep down, I knew it couldn’t last. I enjoyed the people, the customer base, the technical aspects, and most importantly, the management. They really had a great feel for both their business and their people.

In the meantime, Shar, to my absolute amazement, had been creating and launching businesses, all quite profitable. And all within the confines of school hours, school lunches, dinners, housework, homework, kids’ sports, and all else that takes place in family life where there are usually two parents present and contributing.

We have always remained close as a couple, never making it a secret of how we feel about each other. I have always enjoyed our 2.00am chats where she shares her vision for the future, one where I didn’t have to travel and we could wake up together each morning. And I missed her immensely at nights, her smile, her effervescence, her perfume, her reassurance and our breakfasts. I have always loved our breakfasts together.

Meanwhile, one of her businesses was taking shape quietly in the background, an online magazine called YMag®, one that would soon take centre stage at our home and change everything about the way we lived. She had been developing this publication for five years online when I felt a familiar tap on my forehead at the usual 2-3am time slot. To ignore her would have been cruel; to feign sleep, fruitless, and a plea for a raincheck just not worth the increased impact from freshly manicured nails on my head. On go the lights, so I could at least see the animation that usually accompanies such presentations.

It always surprised me just how fresh she would appear at this time of night. Seriously, her ability to articulate her message in such detail warranted my attention, although at times I had to concentrate hard to follow her fast-paced delivery. With her head clear and 10,000 words left out there for me to decipher, off go the lights. She’s back to sleep in an instant, leaving me wide awake an hour out from my 4.30 alarm and my interstate flight.

Just marvellous... but the seed was planted and this thing, this idea, this concept I thought, definitely had legs.

Show me the money

A throwaway line from Tom Cruise’s Jerry Maguire was often my initial response when we were discussing further investment in Shar’s businesses. Although at times I used it half-jokingly, I suppose it was my way of being involved at a distance. For me, sales income is there, or it isn’t. There is not a lot of grey area. In fact, I was to learn in later years that my failure to see it any other way was a crushing response for someone who had loved me unwaveringly for twenty-odd years. Someone who was working extremely hard with the prime objective to get me off the road and into a safe environment, free of stress and in a better state of health. But here is the thing.

It’s men like me who can make it so difficult for our wives to succeed in business. Just let that sit for a moment before I explain. Remember, up to that point I’d never run my own business, so had never felt the overarching pressure to succeed. I’d delivered some great results for companies over the years in sales and sales management roles. So-o-o what? That had absolutely no bearing whatsoever on what my wife was facing. Nil. Nothing. Nada. Full stop.

This is why, when I negotiated a new role, it was, ‘Russ, we are happy to pay you your asking salary. Russ, would you like us to provide a car or would you prefer an allowance? Or, Russ, do you have a preference with whom you fly with or which hotel chain you prefer? Russ, what sort of cost-to-sales budget do you think you will need to reach that sales budget we agreed on? By the way, we prefer you use AMEX. Is that OK with you?’

I think you know where this is going by now. If you are in business for the first time, you have none of that, and I just didn’t see it.

This is the way it often goes with men. We will part with our toys and trinkets to fund the first house on an unwritten promise that one day we will re-acquire these at a later date. Our wives will, more often than not, put their careers on hold whilst the children are born and raised to a point where they re-enter the workforce, usually at a disadvantaged position. Sound familiar? By the time they reach their forties, many women will decide it is time to go into business and enjoy a life they feel they deserve. No argument there. The funds to do this, however, can be a bone of contention. That’s because the money required to launch and get the business profitable will usually come from savings, a loan maybe, superannuation, or an account that was to buy back that boat, GT Falcon or whatever we parted with, way back when. Watching our boats, cars, motorbikes and other expensive hobbies again disappear into the sunset is a common cause of disagreement. It puts undue pressure on the person building a business to make it profitable in an unrealistic time frame. We can easily lose sight of the fact this is being built for our own secure future. I know I did.

That’s the problem in a nutshell. It wasn’t until I got my head around that fact, and was committed to the whole journey, that our business grew. Notice I now say ‘our’ business. I couldn’t say that for a long time because, in truth, I didn’t deserve to.

But where did this all start?

In the first week of December 1979, I emptied my school locker for what would be the last time. Back then, a year ten education was sufficient to enter my chosen trade of Fitting & Machining at the Power Stations 35km away from my hometown in country Victoria. Early starts and a bus trip would see me on my way to earn $53.00 per week. Initially, I struggled with the commerce aspect of earning such a meagre wage when I used to earn $75 per week working three shifts in the supermarket after school. So, a car detailing business was born to fill the gap. Soon I was raking in $200 profit on top of my Power Station earnings, and life was suddenly good.

Whilst I