FINDS SECOND-WIND CAREER AT AGE 65

A hand-waving and exuberant Catholic, Will DeSanto is best known for two things: joyful mischief and faithful prayer. Though he’s a beloved “people person” who loves to encourage others, his tight Italian family and their Duluth, Minnesota community know better than to trust him.

Perhaps feeling pressure to measure up to his twin brother and valedictorian, DeSanto distinguished himself in another way — as a lovable rascal, pulling a lifetime of innocent pranks and becoming a favorite friend to many.

He scared the bejeebers out of his brother one day when John opened a woodshed to find Will behind a pig’s head mask; he confounded his dad who got fake calls for business deliveries; and he startled his mom who was the unfortunate victim of a saran-wrapped toilet.

The brother of John DeSanto, legal prosecutor in Duluth’s famous Glensheen mansion murder case, Will was himself the mysterious party guest at another Duluth mansion, he said, giving a chronology of stunts he’s pulled.

“My wife and I declined an invitation to the Christmas party of a wealthy family in Duluth, then arrived as Rudolph and Santa. I goosed the guests with deer horns, and had people howling. Most of them never knew who we were.”

Yet DeSanto has another side as a tender-hearted Catholic comrade and devotional leader at Christians in Commerce where he frequently tears up in empathy for men struggling with unemployment, difficult marriages, or just plain needing a friend to pray.

“I’ve always seen work of any kind that’s dedicated to God and serves people as a sacred vocation, whether its paving streets or mopping floors, and I like to encourage guys to be faithful husbands and workers with the strength the Lord provides,” he said.

A graduate in civil engineering from the University of Minnesota, DeSanto had an uninterrupted career at today’s Xcel Energy in St. Paul, MN that lasted decades. “I was blessed to have the income to raise my family,” he said.

Life on the whole had been smooth and happy, he reported. But in 2004, things began to fall apart for him. That was the year DeSanto’s wife lost her fight with cancer, leaving him the single father of three growing daughters. Then, only three years later, he was laid off by Xcel, losing the benefits of his 35-year investment in the company.

At first there was a feeling of freedom, said DeSanto, who recalls taking his girls out for lunch in his convertible VW soon thereafter and embarrassing them with shouts of joy in the open air, before it hit him. “I needed to be working. My daughters were heading for college. The problem was, there was zero opportunity for an engineer at my age.”

A new career seemed unthinkable, he continued, “and I didn’t want to be a check-out clerk.” But the work of transitioning was a job in itself, and one for which he had no training.

Unemployment and grieving brought out a deep compassion in DeSanto toward others experiencing loss. “I’ve met so many good people through this. There were ups and downs, but we helped each other.”

Yet when unemployment dragged on 2-1/2 years into his early 60’s, it was a true test of character, one that led to bouts of discouragement, raised questions about his age, and notably mellowed his buoyant spirit. “Most discouraging is how the marketplace has changed,” he said.

“Hiring used to be based on who you are and what kind of education you have.” Today you have to know LinkedIn and be a professional at selling yourself, notes DeSanto, whether or not the sales pitch is even true. “A job-transition group gave me 50 things to do. Hoops, hoops, H – O – O – P – S! I just want to talk to the hiring manager!”

Even recruiters couldn’t get a handle on what he had to offer. “Some even thought an engineer was the guy who drives the train!” he said with a mixture of amusement and disgust. Unfortunately, despite DeSanto’s likable personality, his searching yielded little.

Finally one day he got an opportunity with Pedicab, a three-wheel bicycle-cab service in downtown Minneapolis. This radical departure from his career path was an adjustment, he admitted. “But I’ve always liked people, exercising, and the outdoors. Turns out, it was a real joy.”

DeSanto came home with a story every day about everyone from “two Russian daughters and their mom who had been an Olympic gold basketball player” to a young man who had been estranged from his parents and needed a friend.

He loved the teasing. When people heard his age, “They’d either say, ‘No way are you 65. Look at the legs on that guy!’ or joke, ‘Can we help push?’”

This seasonal job helped DeSanto see how much he was “energized by being around people,” a skill tapped more by this job than by engineering. “I saw how much I wanted to serve people face-to-face,” something he needed to get out and experience.

DeSanto warns job hunters to avoid the bunker mentality and to be open to change. “Don’t get stuck in thinking you can only do one thing. I used to be a white-collar worker, and here I was in shorts! The world is changing and we have to change along with it.”

The key change is internal, says DeSanto. Because Pedicab is seasonal, he took a sales job that Fall with National Agents Alliance selling insurance. “At 65, I had to be teachable, trained by men and women 30 years younger than me. But it’s been the best thing in my life to develop me as a person.”

As a Catholic, DeSanto believes that truly caring for people is what gives life and work meaning.

Where do you think his family got their silliness?

That proved true on one of his first sales calls. “I knocked on the door and found a single dad inside a very dark home who had been through lots of battles. He didn’t remember filling out the card requesting final-expense insurance.”

“He said, ‘I must have been drunk. I want to cover my family in case I die.’ I realized he had no money and had to tell him he didn’t qualify. But I said, ‘Can I pray for you?’”

Choking up and in tears, DeSanto continued recounting his story. “Then, when I was leaving, he stopped and said, ‘Will, I didn’t get to pray for you.’ He said a wonderful prayer and his daughter joined him. That’s when I knew this work was going to be OK.”

Trying to find the right job? “God can’t steer a parked car,” said DeSanto. You may even have to ride a bicycle.

© 2012 Todd Svanoe. Unauthorized reproduction of this copyrighted material is prohibited.

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