Some People Never Grow Up

 

 When I was fifteen, I got a job working down the street at Mac's Trading Post. It was the only sporting goods store in town. The work wasn't hard, but the pay was pathetic. The minimum wage at the time was $1.60 an hour, and yet somehow Mac and his wife got away with paying me only half that. My friend, Don, got a job a year later at Super Duper, a local supermarket located at the Southland Shopping Mall. He was pulling in the required minimum wage bagging groceries. After awhile I came to my senses and decided to join him. We got to spend time together at the front counter, bagging groceries and helping ladies out to their cars. Afterwards we would compare tips and make comments about the customers we'd helped. In time we both went to work at the store next door, Twin Fair. It was similar to Wal-Mart, only not as large. It had all the normal departments that you would expect, including hardware, paint, sporting goods and toys. Don worked in the paint department and I ended up in sporting goods. Don was a natural born comedian. He could imitate all manner of sounds and once even produced a tape of a man walking through the tall grass hunting for pheasants. He imitated the sound of the wings as a bird burst forth from the brush and then proceeded for three full minutes to replicate every gun known to man, from the lowly shotgun, to a machine gun to a howitzer. In the end you heard the pheasant continue on its merry way, unaffected by the volumes of lead that were thrown at it. Frequently, when I was working, the counter person had to call on the intercom for checkers to come to the front. There would be a lineup of customers wanting to check out, but no one to wait on them. A trip back to the paint department would reveal fifteen or twenty store employees gathered around Don laughing as he entertained them. My older brother, Mark, came home one day after making a trip to Twin Fair, laughing about something Don had done. It so happened that Mark passed by the toy department where there were a number of toy models on display. The store was putting on a contest to see who could make the best model. On the shelf was a "57" Chevy built by Billy, age 7. Next to it was a model of a WWII destroyer put together by Jimmy, age 11. Next to the ship was an airplane, a P51 Mustang fighter assembled by William, age 10. Amongst the finely constructed models was a vehicle that was supposed to be a hot rod. The door on the passenger side was falling off, the flame decals were on crooked, one front light was missing, the paint was smeared and the rear bumper was lying behind the car on the shelf. The model was put together by Don, age 18. Of course it became an instant laughing stock, but I believe Don did the best he could. Obviously he didn't win any prizes, but once again he had entertained the masses without even trying.