I HAD A BIRTHDAY
I AM OLDER! As I reviewed my 75 years, I wondered what
had filled all that time. As a child, it
was play, school, and trying to stay on the good side of my parents. As a young adult, it was marriage, children,
and trying not to get stopped for speeding.
As a middle-age-person, it was marriage, children, grandchildren, and
trying not to get stopped for speeding.
As an old lady, it is marriage, children, grandchildren, and … drum roll
… yup, trying not to get stopped for speeding.
Add to each age the normal life things:
church, friends, travel, reading, jigsaw puzzles, and eating. That still leaves a lot of time unaccounted
for.
Then it hit me. WORK!
Or as Maynard would say: W O R K !
Of course, work! How could I miss that?
My first job was doing whatever
my parents said. My first paying job was
as a carhop, at the local Tastee Freeze, where I made 35 cents an hour plus
tips. No, I did not wear roller skates,
but I did meet this really neat guy, Bill, who became my better half. I also worked at Donnelly’s, Eckrich, for an
accountant, Sears, as a cashier for auctions, and as the administrative
assistant for Bill. Yes, work, it seems,
has taken up a lot of my 75 years. And I
remember -----
Working at Eckrich was fun. I worked with the invoices and used a
comptometer. Then the drivers went on
strike. My dad, a Teamster, was upset
that I would cross a picket line. The
local guys were okay and wanted their customers taken care of, so they waved me
through. Then they called and told me to
stay home. Guess some big city guys were
going to walk the line for a couple days and they would not like sweet Mary
being there. I stayed home!
When I worked for an accountant,
we kept books for a number of Catholic Churches in Terre Haute. You know how sometimes you say what you are
thinking without realizing it? That
happened when my thoughts turned into words and my boss heard, “He is way too
good looking to be a priest.” Hey, don’t
judge. I was in my twenties and that guy
was a looker. The next time that priest
came in, he said, “So I shouldn’t be a priest?”
Then he grinned and left with my boss to play golf. From then on, I did not make comments about
any good looking guys. Or at least, not
to my boss.
Do you remember Going My Way. Now that was a classic and Barry Fitzgerald
played the traditional, forgetful, Irish priest. I worked with a priest who could have stepped
right out of that part. Sweet. Old.
Mischievous eyes. But he could
not remember to pay the churches payroll taxes!
I would call to remind him the taxes would be due in a few days and I
needed him to sign some papers.
Sometimes I would have to call more than once. He would finally walk through the office door,
with a sheepish grin, and say, “I forgot again didn’t I?” The flip side is he could tell you the name
of every person in a five block area of his church. I swear even the stray dogs loved him. He might have been forgetful, but I can
picture him looking at his congregation with such love.
Do you know what work smells
like? I was working the return counter,
at Sears, and a man was returning a drill.
He stepped up to the counter and said, “I am sorry I am so dirty and
smelly.” I looked him in the eyes and
said, “Sir you look and smell like a person who has put in a really hard day at
work.” He relaxed. Side note: Never say to someone that all they do is sit
at a desk. Believe me, working at a desk
is work!
Memories about working auctions
could fill a book. I met people who were
absolutely UNREASONABLE! I also met
people who were funny, honest, and a pleasure to know. I have seen items sell for thousands and once
about had a heart attack when I was boxing up a closet, reached in a stack of
material, and pulled out a fox (head still on) stole. I met people who tried, unsuccessfully, to
blend in. It was a gun auction. Nothing but guns and a lot of them. That meant that somewhere in that sea of men
(not being sexist, but it was 99.9% men) were federal agents. But where?
One look around and they were so obvious. Their bodies were straight and tense, unlike
the other men there who were discussing the pros and cons of guns and
ammunition. Their eyes were constantly
sweeping the room, unlike the bidders who starred at the gun/guns they wanted
so as not to miss them when they were held up.
They just didn’t fit in. Yes,
they had on jeans (new), boots (way too new), and a flannel shirt, but you could
tell they were not comfortable in that attire.
I will give them credit for not wearing sun glasses. It was fun to watch them. Every so often they would change positions,
but only after nodding to their cohort.
Yup auctions were always fun – okay, not always. When I quit working auctions, I told people,
“I am tired of being too hot, too cold, and using the port-a-pot.”
Working for my husband? I am not telling those stories!
Work stories could go on and on. I will bore you no longer, but as I looked
back I realized how blessed I was to work.
Blessed to have the ability to make numbers balance. Blessed to meet people and hear their
stories. Blessed to help provide for our
family.
