John Stavros remains one of the most difficult clients with whom I’ve ever had to work. In his midseventies when I first met him, John was short and muscular. His deeply tanned, leathery face was set off by a full head of white hair. A flamboyant dresser, he prided himself on his brightly colored suits and matching ascots.

He regaled everyone he met with the tale of how, alone, and with nothing more than the clothes on his back, he came to this country from Greece at the age of twelve. He began his business career by selling gyros from a pushcart across the street from St. Patrick’s Cathedral in Manhattan, and through his hard work and genius, John actually used that word, built up an empire of diners and catering halls. John punctuated his tale with four letter words and repeated finger pokes in the chest. While his story was inspiring, it was unpleasant to hear him tell it. . . over and over.

John had come to me because he had heard I had a good track record of negotiating with banks. His relationship with his bank certainly needed some help. John’s bank had made quite a bit of money with him over the years. They had financed his restaurant acquisitions and expansions, as well as his forays into catering. The problems began when he started a massive remodeling program on his catering facility. Buying this sprawling architectural monstrosity, located on a major commercial thoroughfare in an affluent suburb, wasn’t enough for John. He had to remake it in his own image. Garish was the word I politely used to describe the result. Financial quagmire was the phrase the bankers used.

Since John had no patience for those who didn’t share his taste or views, he hadn’t even bothered to speak with the increasingly nervous bankers. Costs kept running higher, the schedule kept being pushed back, and John’s representatives kept coming back to the bank for more. Like most bankers, John’s were loath to write off a loan, particularly a large one, so they continued to lend him enough money to keep the debt on the books. They did try to exert some influence, however. But whenever they would telephone or come to John’s office they were treated contemptuously. When told they were at the office, John would curse, loud enough for them to hear. When he did come out to see them he would say he was too busy to talk to them, and would suggest that one of his staff show them around. Even bankers have their limits. They sent John’s accountant a letter announcing their intention of calling his lines of credit within six months. That’s when his office called me.

After hearing the -whole story from the accountant, John was, of course, too busy to see me, I insisted on a personal meeting with John. Figuring I had nothing to lose by being bold, I laid it on the line with John. His bankers simply didn’t trust him anymore. He was treating them like minions, pushing them around, and not even bothering to hide his disdain for them. They weren’t his minions, I pointed out.

In fact, it was within their power to destroy John’s entire operation, the string of pushcarts, the chain of diners, and yes, even his colossus catering hall. He needed to rebuild their trust in him. He had to show them that he respected them and even cared for them. And he needed to start right then. I held my breath and prepared for an onslaught. The curses did indeed come, but this time they were self-directed. Of course, after ripping himself to shreds he did finally turn to excoriating the bankers. But by then he’d run out of his better epithets. Luckily when he turned to me he was totally out of ammunition. All he did was ask what he should do.

Every week for the next six months, John and I attended meetings at the bank’s headquarters. I had John dress in a conservative blue suit with white shirt and a red tie rather than an ascot. I worked with him for two hours before each meeting on exactly how to be deferential to the bankers. I have to say that John worked as hard at holding his tongue as he did in building his fortune. He prayed for ten minutes before every meeting in an effort to calm down. After the first four meetings, the bankers were still unmoved. They thought John’s transformation was a sham. After the second month of meetings they were still unconvinced, but were willing to listen to our proposals. After the third month they were a bit more open to negotiating. Then in the middle of the fourth month the ice broke. They and John actually shared some unforced, unplanned pleasantries. At the end of five months the restructuring deal was on the table. And after six months a deal was signed