If you don’t take the time to do it right, you’ll make the time to do it twice.
My first job was at the Ben Franklin Dime Store in downtown Princeton, Kentucky, in November 1963. Mr. Garvel Kendrick was the manager; Mr. Joe Wilcox owned the store. He would later buy and run Ratliff Hardware. These were good men and role models for me.
I lied about my age. I forged my father’s signature and went to work sweeping floors, cleaning plate-glass windows, and shoveling a coal furnace when I was 14 years of age.
The money I made went to buy “special” school clothes like a HIS jacket, a dress shirt and tie, and a black sport coat for the chorus.
I never wanted to work at a dime store, but I saw a sign in the window that they wanted help. Thus, along came the menial jobs associated with such work.
My high schoolmates passed by me daily on their way to the Princeton Drug Store counter. Some made comments less than generous, others just ignored me. My friends, the “mill and farm kids” always said, hey. The jocks hung out at the front window in the drugstore by the magazine rack and looked “cool” while the cheerleaders huddled in the back in booths.
I always wanted to be “cool” but I was that geek or nerd before the name became vogue. You know me, the kid who took care of the audio-visual equipment, dusted erasers, and shelved library books. My stand out if any was in speech, debate, and light drama. The latter three didn’t make you cool in the 1960s.
At the store, I would wrap things up as quickly as possible, especially on ball game nights. One day, in my “rush” to finish chores, get out, and on the road to a ball game catching a ride with Chip and his family, Mr. Kendrick drew me up.
I had halfway completed the chores of sweeping and stocking. He explained calmly and specifically, that was not acceptable. I missed that ball game. But I learned a valuable lesson. If you don’t take the time to do it right, you’ll make the time to do it twice.
L. Darryl Armstrong Ph.D. 