The Jack Johnson Profile

The man swung around in his reclining leather chair the very way you'd expect a record industry mogul to do it. "So, Jack," he barked, voice booming, "If we were to work this thing out, would you be able to come in here in September and record?"

Jack Johnson hesitated, fearful of how the man would react to his answer. "Actually, umm, that's not looking too good for me. I'm going to Indonesia in September."

"Oh yeah? What on Earth for?"

"Well, it's a surf trip--but a really good one."

The executive gave Jack a tilted stare of disbelief. "OK. Wait a minute. I'm here telling you I want to get you in the studio to record an album in September, and you're telling me you can't because you're going to Indonesia--on a surf trip, no less?" A sinister smile crossed the exec's face. "Do you realize what most guys would offer me just to be sitting in that chair?"

"Uhh, well, I guess I can imagine," Jack replied. "You're a pretty lucky guy, heh?"

Laughter eased the tension for a brief moment, but the man behind the desk tried to bring it back to a serious discussion. "OK, so what about touring?" he asked. "You'd be pretty busy. Are you prepared to be on stage 200 nights a year?"