A ninety-year-old has experienced many watershed moments—those that have marked decisive inflection points along an otherwise smooth lifeline. For me, a turning point—one with a surprise outcome—came when I decided to make the transition from the corporate world to the world of academia. More precisely, it was a transition from top-dog to peon.

It was my first day as Director of Industrial Research at the University of Maryland College Park—a day of surprises and culture shock. My new life began as I climbed the stairs to the second floor of the Wind Tunnel Building and entered the offices of the Engineering Research Center (known as ERC). I was greeted by Dr. Herb Rabin, the Center’s Director, and Dr. David Barbe, its Executive Director. Dave escorted me around the office suite, introducing me to my new colleagues.

Culture shock number one: I was introduced as “Dr. Heller.” For years in the informal, entrepreneurial, high-tech world, I had been “Charlie.” Now, I was entering an arena in which those who lacked the magic PhD were addressed by their first names, while those of us who had that academic union card were treated with reverence and called “Doctor.”

Eventually, Dave turned me over to a neatly dressed, red-haired lady named Shirley Nestor, whom he identified as the ERC’s executive secretary.

“Let me show you to your office,” Shirley said and walked a few steps from her desk through a nearby door. I followed and she waved her arm, pointing out a large wooden desk, a comfortable-looking green chair, a side chair, a filing cabinet, and a bookcase. She completed her scan near the door where, on a small wooden table, stood a white box with a small screen and inscribed with the letters “IBM.” Under the table sat a large, rectangular, metal box, with a blinking green light. It, too, was labeled “IBM.”

“What’s that?” I asked Shirley.

She looked at me incredulously, apparently wondering if I was joking. Finally, smiling, she replied: “Why, that’s your computer.”

“My computer?” I asked, equally unbelieving. “What am I supposed to do with it?”

“That’s where you’ll type your memos and your letters. You can also do spreadsheets and even prepare your presentations,” she answered, still looking dubious.

“Shirley, I don’t even know how to turn it on, much less how to use it.”

“But, I thought…” She stopped in mid-sentence and said no more. Immediately, it hit me. I knew what she was thinking: They told me this guy had been the founder and CEO of two software companies before coming here, and he doesn’t even know how to turn on a PC!

Little did Shirley know that, as CEO, I had not written a computer program for the past seventeen years. I had been busy running companies; I had employees who wrote code; I had an administrative assistant who took care of my correspondence. Now, the first moments in my new office brought about a shocking realization. For the first time in years, I would not have anyone to type my letters, my notes, and my presentations. It became instantly clear that I had better learn, not only how to turn on the PC, but how to use the damn thing. And I had better do it quickly.

I spent my first morning reading introductory materials and filling out a variety of University forms. When noon approached, Dave Barbe walked into my office and invited me to join him and Herb Rabin for lunch. We drove to a favorite student hangout called R. J. Bentley’s. There, Herb, Dave, and I chatted over tasty sandwiches which were named after old cars, as we became better acquainted with one another. Culture shock number two arrived with the check. Dave examined it and announced:

“Let’s just split it into thirds. That will be $6.25 each.”

Hey, I thought. I hadn’t considered the annual cost of lunches when I calculated the difference between my past and present salaries. I had not purchased lunch with my own money in seventeen years! The midday meal had been one of those hidden perks which add up to real money. The haircut I was taking in salary would be even greater than the sixty percent I had previously calculated.

          Only half a day had passed,  and I had discovered already that my post-CEO life would be vastly different. Yet, as I sat at my desk during the afternoon, learning more about my new organization, my new job, and even my computer, I realized—to my great surprise—that I was happy. Deliriously happy, after the entrepreneurial terror I had experienced during recent months.