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A Lesson from My Father
We come by business naturally in our family. Each of
the seven children in our family worked in our father's
store, "Our Own Hardware-Furniture Store," in Mott, North
Dakota, a small town on the prairies. We started working by
doing odd jobs like dusting, arranging shelves and wrapping,
and later graduated to serving customers. As we worked and
watched, we learned that work was about more than survival
and making a sale.
One lesson stands out in my mind. It was shortly before
Christmas. I was in the eighth grade and was working
evenings, straightening the toy section. A little boy, five
or six years old, came in. He was wearing a brown tattered
coat with dirty worn cuffs. His hair was straggly, except
for a cowlick that stood straight up from the crown of his
head. His shoes were scuffed and his one shoelace was torn.
The little boy looked poor to me--too poor to afford to buy
anything. He looked around the toy section, picked up this
item and that, and carefully put them back in their place.
Dad came down the stairs and walked over to the boy.
His steel blue eyes smiled and the dimple in his cheek stood
out as he asked the boy what he could do for him. The boy
said he was looking for a Christmas present to buy his
brother. I was impressed that Dad treated him with the same
respect as any adult. Dad told him to take his time and look
around. He did.
After about 20 minutes, the little boy carefully picked
up a toy plane, walked up to my dad and said, "How much for
this, Mister?"
"How much you got?" Dad asked.
The little boy held out his hand and opened it. His
hand was creased with wet lines of dirt from clutching his
money. In his hand lay two dimes, a nickel and two pennies--
27 cents. The price on the toy plane he'd picked out was
$3.98.
"That'll just about do it," Dad said as he closed the
sale. Dad's reply still rings in my ears. I thought about
what I'd seen as I wrapped the present. When the little boy
walked out of the store, I didn't notice the dirty, worn
coat, the straggly hair, or the single torn shoelace. What I
saw was a radiant child with a treasure.
By: LaVonn Steiner
In Chicken Soup for the Soul at Work
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