In the years following my work experience at The Warehouse, I recounted the stories of the pranks we played with pride and delight. Relishing the amount of time invested to set the pranks, I loved how dedicated we were in the pursuit of a laugh. Now my perspective on the mischief and antics force me to face a different and darker side of myself that I’d like to forget. I realized that I learned valuable life lessons about people that might have been wasted on me at the time. Fortunately these experiences were there when I needed them later in life. I became a naïve sixteen-year-old Warehouse employee in 1976 for my first official working-man’s paycheck. The Warehouse was in an area of Birmingham which had seen its heyday decades before. …show more content…
Not horse and buggy days, rather it was easy to imagine cars pulling into the employee parking lot wafting tunes from Perry Como and Frank Sinatra. Later, perhaps when the paint began to fade for the first time, the music of Elvis and Fats Domino would have filled the air. The grass on the sides of the road hadn’t been cut in recent times with years of litter caught in the snarls of two foot blades and weeds. The driveway leading up to the warehouse was concrete and broken in places with no effort at repair. The building itself was filthy, windows smeared with dirt and streaked from rain. While the original purpose of the building was long forgotten; it appeared to have been for manufacturing purposes. The current role was to cheaply and safely store thousands of boxes containing the latest school textbooks from publishing houses. Education board members, school district representatives in Alabama placed orders for text books and we employees filled those orders. We unloaded the trucks from the publishing houses, pulled the individual book orders, boxed everything up and loaded the trucks delivering to the school districts. Sometimes we worked alone but most often we worked in pairs just to have someone with whom to talk. It was during those conversations that I learned how wrong I was about my perceptions of people. Day after day of riding around on a forklift, exchanging stories or telling jokes brought down barriers. I wasn’t interested in analyzing people or society at that age, however some of what I learned remained with me. Brian epitomized the term “cool” for that time period.
He was tall, athletic build, with his blond hair parted and feathered in the latest style. He usually had a smile on his face or a smirk if he had a Marlboro dangling from his lips. Before he was legally allowed to drive, Brian was already dating. Older girls had no issue picking him up for a date. You couldn’t be cooler than that in the 70’s. That was my first observation of the strange fact of life; good girls love a bad boy. He ran with the school crowd that smoked, drank at age fifteen, shoplifted when the opportunity presented itself, and met aggression with greater aggression. My opinion of Brian was that he was slightly oafish with criminal type cleverness. I was very …show more content…
wrong. Brian’s complicated nature emerged when we were assigned to work as a team.
He began to talk about his home life in bits and pieces that painted a picture of his father. Brian’s dad, Earl, was a large burly man’s man who was only going to have a rough and tough son to carry on the family name. Earl smoked Marlboros and saw no problems with his teenage son continuing the vice. Earl drank American beer and expected his teenage son to have the same penchant. While other parents would have reacted in an outrage to find their teenage sons with beer in the car, Earl just laughed and said “boys will be boys. That’s my son.” The two events that Brian shared of Earl’s discipline were in regards to theft and fighting. Brian told me, “We were in Eckerd’s drug store, stealing records. We’d done it lots of times. I didn’t’ do it for the records themselves, it was for the thrill. He wants me to be a hard-ass so I was trying to be one my way.” The thefts were executed differently from the norm of sliding items under a jacket. Brian was significantly smarter than he liked for people to know. He and a couple of friends would go into the drug store, with a paper grocery bag folded and hidden in their clothes. They would browse the records and slyly put selected albums into the open grocery bag at their feet. The managers and store employees were vigilant about checking patrons as they left the store, to see if anyone had suspicious bulges in their clothes. While two of the
thieves went to the counter to pay for cokes and maybe a magazine, the other would slide the grocery bag containing the purloined records over by the entrance door. Then everyone would exit with only the items they had purchased. The suspicious eyes of the manager never saw any items walk out the door without a receipt. Per Brian, “After fifteen minutes or so, one of us would slip back to the front door, keeping below eye level and ease the door open. Reaching inside, we’d grab the bag and slide it back out. And off we’d go with the albums and magazines for us or to sell for cigarette and beer money.” Apparently the success of the theft of albums created a hubris that caused their downfall. Brian said, “We should have known better. We were down at Eastwood Mall and tried to slip some records out of that drug store they have in the mall. Tried the same routine, but the layout is different and the store manager saw something. The next thing I knew we were in the manager’s office and they were calling the cops. It wasn’t just records, they had lots of electronic stuff on the shelves and we had loaded up the bag with a radio and stuff. Twenty-five dollars is the only reason I wasn’t charged with grand theft and sent to jail. We were just under the limit of grand theft, only by twenty-five dollars. While we were waiting for our parents to come get us, the cop told us what would have happened if we’d been charged with grand theft.” Facing the consequences of almost going to jail shook him up significantly. He sneered, “I admit, I was afraid. But I didn’t break down and bawl like Bill. That fat bastard was blubbering before they even got us in the room.” Earl made sure the lesson was imprinted permanently. Brian said, “When we got home, Dad told me that there was nothing worse than a thief. Lower than white trash, lower than the blacks is a thief. No son of his was going to be a lousy thief taking other people’s hard earned stuff. And then he pulled out that leather belt that’s so thick. “He held his fingers a quarter of an inch apart. “I don’t know if he hit me ten or fifteen times with it. I know I was determined not to make a sound, tried not to flinch, and I damn sure didn’t let any tears show.” I asked him what Earl said afterwards. He said, “All Dad said, was ‘Maybe that will teach you to respect other people’s property and my name.’” While recounting the event, Brian would forget he had the lit Marlboro in his fingers as he drifted back in the memory and then puff on it with fierce determination when his mind came back to the present. Brian was never one to back down from any hint of disrespect. Brian and a black school mate despised each other. I never knew what started the conflict that finally escalated into a physical altercation in the school hall. Both were taken to the principal’s office and sent home until they cooled off. Brian didn’t come to work that day so when I talked to him about it, Earl had already expressed his opinion. Apparently the corporal punishment for theft was exceeded for fighting. I assumed Earl was angry about Brian fighting at school; however I was completely off base. Brian said, “Dad was pissed because I didn’t finish it. He asked me how it started, and I told him Jerome called Mama a whore. So I hit him until the teachers came up and told us to stop. Dad said I let that n***** walk away when I should have beaten him down and made them pull me off. Then that n***** would know not to mess with me again. Now, he still thinks he can get away with pushing me around. So Dad whipped me for pulling back in a fight and not finishing it. He said, ‘Damn boy! First, I got to beat the thief out of you and now I got to beat the coward out.’” Brian and I had two different relationships. Our school relationship was cordial and yet definitely not warm. Even though we were in the same horn section of the band together, he was aloof. His reputation was being tough and callous. I was a member of the Honor Society; any visual friendship would tarnish his tough guy reputation. Our warehouse relationship was completely different because Brian would flip an inner switch and talk about himself and show interest in my life. Warehouse Brian was smart and clever and more sensitive than he was willing to admit as a result of his mother’s influence. School Brian was a product of Earl which required him to keep up a tough devil-may-care exterior. The warehouse was the only place I ever heard Brian talk about his mother. She was kind, generous and completely cowed by Earl. Years later, I realized that Brian had developed a hard shell tough guy persona as a defense against his father. He created the persona his father wanted to prevent the physical punishments and verbal derision. I realized that it is not uncommon for many of us to create a persona that pacifies or placates our parents. We learn to become who they want for harmony, to avoid negative reactions, and sometimes to avoid violence. Some people try to actually become the parental approved version. Some just rebel completely and try to become the exact opposite. Others, like Brian and me, create different personas that we wear for the specific time. I learned that I have more darkness in my soul than I want to face. I don’t remember how the prank war started. I don’t readily remember the pranks that were played on me. I vividly remember the ones in which I was a key or sole perpetrator. At the time, stories of the pranks were a tribute to my cleverness and spirit of retaliation. Later, I questioned the lack of empathy and kindness in myself. Now I despise the childish meanness that I exhibited with such glee. I’ve known Alton since the second grade, and he’s always been meek and mild. Only later did I realize the strength of character he had to constantly be immune to our juvenile antics. Alton was friendly, talkative and quick with a laugh. However he abstained from vulgarities, crude humor, or childish acts of meanness. It didn’t surprise any of us later in life when he became a missionary. And yet, he was the target of pranks. Did we misinterpret his meekness as weakness? Or perhaps it was safe to torment him because we knew he wouldn’t retaliate. The event that I regret most was a week after we found a dead body outside the warehouse.
Although, Conventional wisdom dictates that the age at which children started work was connected to the poverty of the family. Griffith presents two autobiographies to put across her point. Autobiography of Edward Davis who lacked even the basic necessities of life because of his father’s heavy drinking habit and was forced to join work at a small age of six, whereas the memoir of Richard Boswell tells the opposite. He was raised up in an affluent family who studied in a boarding school. He was taken out of school at the age of thirteen to become a draper’s apprentice.
Drugs in their environments had effected the Wes Moore's similarly; although they weren't the ones doing the drugs, they were involved with people who did, leading to involvement with authorities. On the contrary, their different role models had impacted them differently. The author admired a honest man, who was mature and (truly) respected. The other Wes Moore admired his brother, who made a living off of drugs and scared respect out of others.
Baldwin’s story presents the heart breaking portrayal of two brothers who have become disconnected through respective life choices. The narrator is the older brother who has grown past the depravity of his childhood poverty. The narrator’s profession as an algebra teacher reflects his need for a “black” and “white,” orderly outlook on life. The narrator believes he has escaped life’s sufferings until the death of his daughter and the troubling news about his brother being taken in for drug possession broadside him to the reality of life’s inevitable suffering. In contrast, his brother, Sonny has been unable to escape his childhood hardships and has ended up on the wrong side of the law. While their lives have taken ...
Upon reading this piece, I could not escape the striking similarities between how Sammy passed the time at the A & P grocery store, and the monotonous routine of when I was employed at a local grocery store. "In walks these three girls in nothing but bathing suits." From Personal experience, I can tell you that "checking out" women is a favorite past-time of bored adolescent male employees of grocery stores such as Sammy. Even Old McMahon, the meat guy, was "patting his mouth... and sizing up their joints." Furthermore, I was not surprised to learn this cherished activity dates back nearly a half century ago to Sammy's days of working in a grocery store. Another detail of the grocery store that sticks out in my mind is how supervisors demanded rigid adherence to policy and rules. Updike did not fail to illustrate this aspect of this job. "I don't want to argue with you. After this come in here with your shoulders covered. It's our policy." Updike also illustrates the point of how employees detest their supervisors' policy. "Policy is what the kingpins want, what the others want is juvenile delinquency." From once being a victim of policy myself, I interpreted Sammy's quitting as breaking free from the A & P's constraints; similarly, this was the reason I finally quit my job at the grocery store. The inclusion of the details of grocery work make it clear John Updike spent time working in the grocery business.
The story begins with the narrator’s brother, Sonny, being arrested for using heroin. When the narrator discovers what has happened to his brother, he slowly starts to relive his past. Up to this point, the narrator had completely cut his brother and his childhood from his life. He disapproves of the past and does everything in his power to get rid of it. The narrator had become an algebra teacher and had a family who he moved to get away from the bad influences on the street. As a result, it is shown in the story that he has worked hard to maintain a good “clean” life for his family and himself. Readers can see that he has lived a good life, but at the toll of denying where he came from and even his own brother. For years, his constant aim for success had been successful. However, as the story progressed everything he knew started to fall apart.
“When Dad went crazy, we all had our own ways of shutting down and closing off…” (Walls 115).In Jeannette Walls memoir, The Glass Castle, Walls enlightens the reader on what it’s like to grow up with a parent who is dependent on alcohol, Rex Walls, Jeannette’s father, was an alcoholic. Psychologically, having a parent who abuses alcohol is the worst thing for a child. The psychological state of these children can get of poorer quality as they grow up. Leaving the child with psychiatric disorders in the future and or being an alcoholic as well.
Martin is more than just the meek and acquiescent individual he seems to be; “Mr. Martin bought the pack of Camels on Monday night...if any of the staff at F&S had seen him buy cigarettes, they would have been astonished, for it was generally known that Mr. Martin did not smoke and never had.” (212). However, as the story progresses, we are introduced to the dark, ominous, and minatory personality of Mr. Martin, one that he kept clandestine and internal, which fuels his hatred for Mrs. Barrows. With the fulfillment of Mr. Martin’s ploy to rid his workplace of the obnoxious and vexatious Mrs. Barrows, it thereby gives the reader a sense of realization of the true cynicism inherent in Mr. Martin, and that a displeasure of significant magnitude can spark his disclosed nefarious nature, and the result is oftentimes, as displayed with Mrs. Barrows aftermath,
Try and remember what it was like to be a teenager. The short story “A&P” tells the coming of age story of a nineteen year old boy named Sammy. Sammy has unknowingly placed himself into a situation that many small town adolescents often fall victim to. Sammy has a dead end job, and he feels as though he will be stuck working at the local “A&P” while life passes him by. This is until a chance encounter with three young female customers changes his course from mini vans and diapers to a welcomed new and uncertain future. After a close examination of the text, Sammy doesn’t quit his job because of the girls, he quits knowing that a dead end job is not what he is meant for.
While the other boys in the community played with slingshots and haunted neighbour’s windows, porch flowers pots, and the lights that shone near harm any animals and were considered good mannered. As the boy gets older he begins to get into trouble by stealing and drinking, he dropped out of school even though he was a topper of his class, after he spent a few days with a “better off family” during his hockey trip. But now he was stealing almost anything he could get his hands on and selling it to second hand shops and was continually getting caught.
Imagine waking up at five in the morning to walk over a mile to a factory where you work until noon where you get a half hour break for lunch, then it’s back to work until nine or ten at night, when you are finally allowed to go home and you are only eight years old. Today that seems unimaginable, but during the early 19th century it was the everyday life of thousands of children whose ages range from as young as five until you died. During the Industrial Revolution many children were required to work dangerous jobs to help their families.
I grew up knowing the value of a hard earned dollar. This past summer, I got to experience this personally. I received my first job, at Sky Zone Indoor Trampoline Park. The process went smoothly; I handed in my application, and an assistant manager said there was a group interview the next day. During the interview with 14 others, I acted professional and myself. At Sky Zone, big personalities are required, and I thought I was a good fit. Days later, the general manager of the Syracuse location called and offered me a job. I was excited and ready to start another chapter of my life.
I always wanted to be able to help provide for my family and our farm and have a sense of independence. I finally got an opportunity to do just this when I went to go work at the Lowell factory. I had numerous expectations of what it was going to be like, hoping for the best. I was mainly excited to get an education, as I had never done previously, and learn about other various informative topics. Of course the mill was not entirely as great as I desired, but it was a helpful way to make means for my family at the time.
When I was growing up, I was usually pretty shy and talking to people that I didn’t know was not my strong suit. My dad was always a very big conversation guy, and I don’t think we could ever leave the store in under 30 minutes due to him talking to people all the time. I was not like that, when he would be chatting away with some random person, I would always keep quiet. I knew that this had to change in order for me to succeed in life. With this in mind, I decided to take a job at our local Hy-Vee in Fairfield, Iowa. At first, I was still a little quiet when I started working, but after just a few weeks, I could see myself starting to meet a lot of new people. I opened up and relationships started to arise out of nowhere. Now, whenever I go almost anywhere around town, I will see someone that I have gotten to know through Hy-Vee, and a conversation will arise even outside of my workplace. Getting the job at Hy-Vee has helped spark a light in me to become more outgoing and charismatic.
It was a Saturday afternoon, when my friend Jalissa came over and wanted me to go to the mall with her. Jails had just gotten hired at the mall and hadn’t been on a shift since. On the car ride to the mall, she mentioned that she had gotten the job at Aeropostale and that the manager was still looking for employees. Being desperate for a job and money, I took it all in and as soon as we got to our destination, I was ready to put on my professional mask. Walking into the store, which I hadn’t shopped there in years because it was always so expensive. I noticed a tall, lean, and handsome guy in the back folding shirts,that guy was Cornell Brown, the store manager . I had spoken with him and mentioned that I wanted an opportunity to work for the company and he nonchalantly handed me an application and I quickly ran to a nearby store for a pen to fill it out. After about five minutes, I was back with the piece of paper that could be my golden ticket for a job. Cornell began to ask me questions, the question t...
Wills, P. (1977) Learning to Labour: How working Class Kids Get Working Class Jobs. Hampshire: Gower Publishing.