Work Ethics

When I was a girl of fourteen my mother died. My dad owned a country gas station in Southern Minnesota where our house also stood. I had two younger brothers, eleven and five. Since my dad was literally at home every day he could carry on his business and be there for us kids. We had a housekeeper but I didn’t like her much and told my father that I’d like to take over her job. Mother had taught me well how to keep house, do the laundry, and cook. Daddy agreed and gave me the job. I missed my mother but kept her near in thought as an angel. As for me, I had a job!

Daddy wasn’t one to give us allowances. The country was still in the Great Depression and money was tight, but we had an agreement. He would leave a few bills under the scarf on top of the piano. When I needed money for any reason I’d go there. (The boys didn’t know about that!) Soon I was old enough to drive and felt proud that I could shop for the family and still have enough to treat myself to a few girly purchases. That was the beginning of my work ethic and it served me well all my life. When I married at nineteen it was quite the same. Through the years I rarely worked outside the home but family finances were worked out between my husband and me. I may have looked longingly at the Help Wanted section of the paper once in a while but found home and children to be quite enough to handle. I developed hobbies along the way, did some reading, and gardening. All in all, I was quite content to be my own boss at home and my home was my castle. I loved it. Still do.

My husband had worked as a bus boy in a famous Minneapolis restaurant when he went to high school and college but the war drew him into the service and he became a career Marine officer and fighter pilot. He took great pride in being “One of a Few Good Men” and retired after 23 years to go into a twenty year second career as a minister for the armed forces.

Wally G., as we called him, had a bit of the private enterprise bug in him that showed up in his fatherly advice to the children. His policy, when they asked for things that cost money, was this: “Sure, you can have it. Just as soon as you earn the money to pay for it.” He was not being stingy. It was a matter of making ends meet on retired pay and the minimal pay he got for his ministerial work. But he was delighted to help the kids get started working and even set them up in a little business that eventually grew to provide most of their college expenses.

I’ll never forget the time Wally K. wanted to mow the lawn. He was about ten then and we lived on a country estate which we’d got for the bargain sum of $150. a month. It was a big house put together with two other houses during the building halt during the war. The landlord had let us have it with this stipulation: “You treat it like your own. I want the rent, but you pay for all the upkeep, fix-its, and lawn care." The latter was quite a deal because the “lawn” was about two acres! Still, the job was made palatable by the fact that the owner provided a sit-down mower.

At breakfast one morning, Wally K. said, “Dad, can I drive the mower by myself today?” Wally G. had been letting our elder son ride with him and even steer the mower, but he could barely reach the gas pedal and hadn’t done the job alone.

Wally G. took a sip of coffee and said. “Do you think you’re ready, son?” The little boy’s eyes lit up and he practically popped out of his chair. “You bet, Dad!”

“Would you be willing to pay me 10 cents to do it?”

“Sure!” There hadn’t been a moment’s hesitation.

“OK,” Wally G. said, “but here’s the deal: 1. once you start you don’t get off the mower until you’ve finished. 2. you do a good job, no fooling around going in circles and such. 3. you pay me 10 cents out of your allowance for the first five times and then, if you want to keep the job, I’ll give you back your 50 cents and fifty cents to boot. After that you get one dollar per job so long as you abide by the rules.”

“Wow! Can I start today?” Thus began an exemplary career ending in a six figure salary, but starting with jobs like taking orders in a hamburger stand, bell hop at a high class hotel, renting binoculars business, college, a 28 year career as an Air Force pilot, several more years in commercial piloting, and finally as an official in the FAA.

Second son, David, always tried the one-up-man-ship game with Wally K. but soon proved himself by becoming a Naval officer, an inventor, and a high tech computer designer. He’s still at it and doing exceedingly well.

Our daughter, Robin, wanted to be an artist. “Well,” her dad said, “You may learn that a lot of artists are what they call ‘starving artists,’ but if that’s what you want to do, go for it, and be one of the best!” Robin, too, had her share of menial jobs, like cleaning out horse stalls, sweeping the floor at a beauty shop, and a short stint as a chamber maid at a hotel. When she got fired from that, her boss said, “Robin, you are made for better things than this. You are a natural artist. Give it a try.” And she did. She is today a well-known water colorist and she’s not starving!

Others I’ve known have given their kids all they want, or as much as they can afford. It’s one way, and I’m not saying it’s wrong. Had we had the money, we may have gone that route too, but as it was, we and our children have done things the good old American way, by hard work, humility, imagination and ambition. So much for “Work “Ethics, 101.”