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About Alexander R. Theil

To say the least, I am not your regular Author.  You know the type, smug, in love with himself…. picturing the world waiting with bated breath for his next great book to be released. And no, I don’t sit around in lonely dives drinking myself to oblivion because I can’t think of what to write about.  
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            Hell, after forty plus years in the craziest wild-west non-casino gambling extravaganza that the human species ever invented, Commercial/Institutional Real Estate, I have just about seen it all.  Now I have to figure out how to incorporate it into the venues which I am writing about, without building another wing on my lawyer’s already grand mansion in the Cayman Islands.  
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            Do I use the story about the Syndicator who caught a street urchin removing his hubcaps from his Roll Royce on Park Avenue at ten in the morning? And rather than alerting the authorities, taped the industrious lad on the shoulder with his walking cane and said, “Young man, if you have the balls to steal my hubcaps off my Rolls, here, at this time of the day, please put them back on and come with me, and I will show you how to make some real money!”  
  The hubcaps were immediately re-installed on the elder gentleman’s automobile, and the young man crossed the five million dollar net worth level ninety days later.  
 
Or maybe, the one about the time I was assigned my first property management job by Robert, my boss, and received a rather unique welcoming gift… a seven inch stiletto slammed into the middle of my desk from a rather sinister looking chap, who just happened to be a tenant.  I should have realized when Robert handed me a Saturday night special as part of the operations package…. there might be a minor problem with the complex.   
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             The stories are endless…. And the characters are so numerous that their names would exceed the listings in the Manhattan phone directory.  The problem…. NO MORE DAMN WINGS ON THAT FRIGG’N MANSION IN THE CAYMAN ISLANDS!!
            So, before you fire up the word processor…. Call your Lawyer…. Run out, and put down your deposit on your brand new red Ferrari, let me state that no character in any of my books is a single person…. They are a myriad of personalities drawn from all of the souls who have crossed my path over the years. Same with the incidents and locations… all modified to protect the not so innocent.  
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            Sorry, I am a teller of tales… a troubadour of tunes that some rather bizarre associates, clients, and customers have marched to.  But Momma didn’t raise no fool.  If you think it’s you… well you are wrong….. AIN’T!  So sit back and enjoy the yarn.  
            Oh yea… for the bland at heart…. I now make my home in the wine country of Western New York’s Finger Lakes region, and bow to a pain-in-the-ass seven pound orange tabby, who believes that my sole purpose in life is to cotter to her every whim!         
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