He pulls up at a traffic light beside a stranger in a red Porsche, mutters something about the money probably belonging to the man's father, and then admits that a poster of that exact car hung on his own bedroom wall. Gary Taylor uses the moment to take apart resentment of people who have more, without excusing it and without lecturing anybody about it.
He is a grown man who plays kickball at a corporate picnic hard enough to injure himself, because his father's line about playing properly if you are going to play at all still runs in his head. His family flies to Orlando whenever the schools allow it, and he takes his marketing lessons from what that company does rather than from a course.
Nine recruiting tips that avoid the usual cringe, plus two posts on writing articles, make up the practical half.
Read the Porsche one first. It tells you quickly whether his voice is one you want in your head.