Lessons Learned

An excerpt from the Washington Post -

I watched my dad work, and I learned about life
By Ted Gup

I had much to learn. Once I forgot to lower the beam into the steel brace securing the back door, leaving it vulnerable to thieves. Father was not pleased. He explained to me that our “livelihood” depended upon the store and that it was my duty to safeguard it. I had let him down.

But I also remember the Sunday when, on our way to the Stark County Fair, we stopped by the store and discovered that it had been broken into. The drawer to the cash register was emptied and smashed in pieces on the floor, and a rack of suits was gone. Instead of fuming, Father calmly phoned the alarm company and off we went to the fair. We cheered the tractor pulls, sized up the prize bulls and marveled at gargantuan pumpkins — but not another word was spoken of the break-in. A few days later my father took out an ad in the local paper, The Repository, offering the robbers free alterations for anything that didn’t fit and a standing invitation to return as paying customers. From that I learned that what really counted lay beyond the reach of thieves. And, yes, that humor could be found in unexpected places.

I liked working in the back of the store. My father made sure the bathroom detail fell to me. It was a message intended not only for me but also for everyone in the store who watched to see how the boss’s son would be treated. With brush and Comet, I proudly scrubbed away the stains until the bowl and sink gleamed. I broke up boxes and piled them high in the back alley for removal. I wielded a wide broom around and under the tailor’s shop and steam press, sweeping up fallen razor blades, bits of chalk, bobbins, severed cuffs, orphaned threads and discarded plastic coffee cups. It was also my chance to talk with the tailor, Remo, an Italian who always drove a new Riviera, and to steal a glimpse of his wall calendar that featured pin-ups. My father respected him and the hours he put in. Remo, my father explained, was an “immigrant,” a word he uttered as if it were a title of nobility and a synonym for sacrifice.

https://www.washingtonpost.com/business/what-i-learned-from-watching-my-dad-at-work/2016/06/17/455c2dcc-3308-11e6-8758-d58e76e11b12_story.html?hpid=hp_hp-more-top-stories_bz-gup454pm_1-duplicate%3Ahomepage%2Fstory