How It All Ties Together

I don't know much about my grand parents. I know more about Mom's folks because she had her parents for longer than my dad did. My Dad lost his family when he was very young. My understanding is that his baby sister, and his mom, and then his dad all died within just a few years of one another. I have written stories about that back in the day when I did things like this with pen and paper and I may publish them here some time down the road.

But there is one story about my grandfather that Dad told me about when I was just a kid that came in really useful. It saved me about $18,000.00. Hard to believe that a story told to me 30 years ago about a man I never met could have that kind of impact. But it did.

My dad was not blind to his father's faults. He did not idolize the man at all. I remember him once telling me that he only loved him because he was "Daddy". I say this so that you will understand, like I did at the time, that this was an honest assessment of my grandfather.

Grandpa was basically a handy-man. He was a bit of a painter, carpenter, plumber, mechanic, and all around laborer. If it needed doing, and you were willing to pay, Grandpa could hook you up.

He was a big man - apparently over six feet tall (why couldn't that gene have made the journey to my chromosomes?) And he was a proud man. I heard a story from a peer of his that as young men, they were part of a group making bets about who was stronger. They were using 50 pound bags of horse feed and carrying it as far as they could. I have heard a couple of different versions of this story and in some cases the bags weighed 100 pounds and in one telling they were 200. But the one constant was the distance traveled by Grandpa and the number of bags he carried.

After a couple of the guys had gone down the street and back with a bag in each hand, it came time for Grandpa to make his attempt. The guys started to laugh when Grandpa threw a bag over each shoulder and then pulled another two under each arm. He then walked the length of the street. And then he turned the corner. He walked the block with the other guys catching up to him once they saw him clear the corner. He walked away with a sore back but with their cash. And a story that old men would tell me before I had even seen my 10th birthday.

My dad and I would have these great talks late on Saturday nights before I was licensed to drive. We would sit up and discuss the finer points of his Sunday school lessons or girls he had dated when he was a teenager. Politics and philosophy were fair game and on some nights, when he was wistful or maybe just lonely for people and places of long ago, he would tell me stories of his childhood.

One night we sat in a haze of his cigarette smoke and I really have no idea what brought this story to light. He just started talking about a time when he was around four or five and having to help his dad load up fire wood for the winter. I have always pictured the scene to be by a pond that would be perfect for fishing in spring time but I realize that Dad never said so.

Apparently the owner of the land had wanted the trees cleared out and cut for firewood. Grandpa had agreed to do the job with payment being a truck load of firewood. All of the trees had been cut and sawed into fireplace size logs by the time my dad was on the scene loading. Dad said that the land owner had come up to the truck and had made what Dad thought was an innocent comment. At least it could have been innocent. Dad was not altogether sure.

The man asked, "About got enough fire wood, there?" That was all he said. But it hit Grandpa the wrong way.

Dad stopped in his telling of the story to say that he did not know for sure if the man was implying that they were taking more than their fair share or if he was just impressed with how well they had stacked the truck. And, as dad pointed out, it was a big truck. "But," Dad said, "the guy knew what kind of truck we had. It was a big, half ton truck with wood panels on the side. He knew that before they ever made the deal."

As I said, the question hit Grandpa wrong. He paused, sat down the log he was about to pass up to my dad, turned, and said, "boy, roll that last one back to me." Dad did as he was told and still had not grasped the situation because he just stood there with what he thought later must have been a blank stare. "And the next one," said Grandpa as he reached his hand back for it.

They proceeded to unload the whole truck log by log just as they had loaded it. I don't know what the land owner was doing or saying during what must have been an extended amount of time. Dad never said and I find it hard to believe as I type this that I never asked. I would really like to know now but will have to wait until I am re-united with the stars of this little drama to find out.

Once the truck was empty, Dad told me that it was not enough for Grandpa. Dad said that he stripped a limb from one of the nearby trees that had not been cut and used it as a brush to sweep the bark and chips out of the back of the truck. I remember my dad sweeping his arm back and forth in sync with this decades old memory of his dad.

Grandpa looked the man in the eye and said," You don't owe me a damn thing."

I remember my jaw tightening at this part of the story. I felt Grandpa's anger at having been slighted and was PROUD of the fact that I was related to a man who would not tolerate any insult or slight no matter how small.

My dad must have seen that in me. He must have. He said," There is something in that story that brings out pride and defiance and stubbornness that is really appealing. There is something about the idea of going through life without bowing your head to any man that is appealing to us."

I nodded my head but did not say anything. There was something in my Dad's voice that I had already learned meant that the negative was coming. That there was something wrong with this story and I stayed quiet because I could not see it. I knew I was on the wrong side of this but I just could not see how.

Dad said," What Daddy did was prideful and tough. And he kept his self-respect. Hell, he made no compromise to his pride. But it was cold that winter. Damn cold. And he had a two year old daughter and a four year old son and a young wife and they eventually ran out of furniture to burn because he couldn't have simply said, 'You better believe that is a lot of firewood,' and gone about his business."

Thirty years later I am sitting in a room with the Senior Director for Sam's Club Logistics and our regional HR manager. I have been with Walmart 18 and a half years at this point. I have traveled around the company learning new things and learning how to help a building get better.

I got involved in management because, since I started out on the floor, I knew just how hard the work can be. I wanted to help make the job better for folks by trying to make sure we followed common sense as much as possible. I also brought the idea that most folks want to do the right thing most of the time. If you give them a structure where success is rewarded and you hold accountable those folks that make life harder on the rest, them people will do great things no matter what the profession.

I had a good run and was part of some really good teams. The last team I was a part of in Alabama was named Distribution Center of the Year just before I transferred out. And the building before that went from being one of the worst general merchandise warehouses to one of the company's best. I take a great deal of pride in being a part of those teams.

And then I decided to see what the Sam's side of the business was like. I got there and within a couple of months our General Manager was fired for some reason. I was named the Operations manager in charge until a replacement GM could be found. We spent almost 3 months without a GM and there were still huge chunks of the Sams business that I had not had any kind of training.

We get a new GM and I requested to be sent to an existing Sams DC for training. We could not do that at the time. We have another GM who comes out to see how we do things and he is shocked at the things I don't know about concerning the resources and systems in Sams. Our GM is out with a health issue for a couple of months. Our GM comes back for a month and then resigns.

Three months later I am in the meeting with the Regional Director and the HR manager. I am asked to justify why I still have a job. What have I done to deserve to continue with this company? I point out recent improvements and massive changes that have been made in our DC over the past year. Absolutely none of that matters. I am told again and again that each of my examples are simply the bare minimum of expectations.

I am told that they were hoping that I would have some kind of answer to these questions. That based on the building's performance, I could very well have been fired if I don't have some sort of justification. I am told that I have not answered the question. I tell them that I have answered the question but that this meeting is not about answers.

I am then told that they will be coming back in a few months and if our building is not performing at a certain level, that managers will not have jobs. I am further told that normal protocol of write ups and such will not be followed. People will just be shown the door.

I sat there in that meeting and realized that this meeting was to make me afraid. This meeting was to shame me. This meeting was to humiliate me.

And I have my pride. There was a time in my life when there was no way I would have tolerated this.

I sat there and fought against what I desperately wanted to tell them. To keep this a family blog, I wanted to tell them off, throw my discount card and badge on the desk with my work keys and walk out. There is a time in my life when I would have done just that.

But my wife and I were so close to being completely out of debt. And I was due a bonus at the end of the year worth about 12 grand and then stock rights in March worth almost another six. I so wanted to look at those two men and tell them they didn't owe me a damn thing and then shake the dust off my shoes as I walked out the door.

Instead, I kept saying to myself, "It was cold that winter. It was cold that winter. It was cold that winter. It was cold that winter."

And I took it. I just took it. And I started looking for another job knowing that as soon as the bonus and the stock hit, I was out of there. And it is funny how God looks after us.

When the Lord led me back to him when I was at the very lowest point in my life, he used a friend of mine out in Texas. A few months back, my wife's uncle took seriously ill. We went out to Texas to say our good-byes and one night that week I had dinner with my old friend and his family.

I told him about the meeting and my decision to leave the company. He used to work for Walmart as well and understood the stress of leaving a position and a place where you had spent so many years. The conversation shifted to his job and how well he was doing and just how good things were with his new company.

I quipped that, "If things are that good, do they have a branch in Indy?"

He said, "We do but it ain't in Indianapolis. Its in some place called Plainfield."

My jaw dropped since Plainfield is 20 minutes from where I live. The plant is actually 22 minutes with traffic. My brother loves the fact that I went all the way out to Texas to find a job 20 minutes from my house. He says," Non-Christian people call that a coincidence."

So all is well. I still like Walmart and may even work for them again some time in the future. The day I gave my notice, a former boss of mine called me up about an opening in his DC and wanted to know if I was interested in relocating again. I laughed and told him I was just going in to work to give my notice. He was shocked and when he heard the story, he was a little angry.

Priscilla and I are very happy in Indy, but if we ever do relocate to his current city, I have been instructed to send him my resume. That felt good as I went in to end my employment with a company that I had given over 18 years of my life.

If my dad had not told me the story of the cold winter, I don't know if I would have held my tongue. I don't know if I would have put my pride secondary to my family's security. And it has worked out great. I am happy. The new job is great. Priscilla and I are saving for a house and planning out our retirement.

But I am my Grandfather's grandson. I feel the same pride and anger over the same slights that he would and I so want to lash out. I would love to make the grand, symbolic gesture that amounts to a righteously extended middle finger. I didn't do it. But I would really like to have done it. Maybe the next generation will not even feel the need to respond to such pettiness.

But man, he swept the freaking bark out of the back! Who does that?