Webster Art

There is a feel good article in the WaPo this morning about Jewish grandma’s setting up shop on the sidewalks of New York and offering free advice to random passerby’s. It reminded me of how much I miss my dad. At 32 we had a one year old and I was stuck in a dead end blue collar printing job.

I’d worked there 11 years running simple machines and needed a change. Imagine an oil change guy who wants to move up to repairing engines for more pay. The shop was so small there was no where to go up. It was a family run business and they had the administrative jobs. Not that I wanted them, I enjoyed working with my hands. But I knew I was capable of a lot more.

Through one of the visiting ink salesman I heard of a job 30 miles aways where I’d grown up and my parents still lived in the old family home. I knew the company was on shaky ground but it was a bigger machine and I desperately needed a change. I took the job and six months later they fired me and promptly went bankrupt.

I got let go at noon and went for a walk around my old teenage stomping grounds. I ended up at the State Supreme Court where dad worked as the bailiff, a job he’d had since ’65. When court wasn’t in session his job was pretty chill and he could take breaks whenever.

Ever since I was a stoned out hippy I knew he was always there and happy to see me. I could have easily dropped by to see mom up the hill, but I gravitated toward dad. He knew I was supposed to be at work and was surprised to see me walk into his office.

I got fired dad.

Ah, I’m sorry to hear that, I knew you had high hopes for your new job.

Yeah, they said I was too slow and I was hurting their profits.

Well I’m sure it was more than that. They have been in trouble for years.

Hey, did you know I got fired more than a dozen times?

What!! No way. I’ve never heard that. You only had two jobs in the last 30 years.

Yup, it’s true. Before I got that city desk job at the newspaper where you kids were born I bounced around reporting jobs for years. I’d work for a while, make the editor mad or the paper would close and I’d get fired. It happened over and over. The newspaper business is much more volatile than the printing trade. I had jobs at papers up and down the west coast from Sitka to San Francisco.

Geez dad, I had no idea. You were a rock as long as I can remember.

It took me years to learn how to keep a job. I reported on some hot button issues and would get all worked up.

Well, I feel better now. This is the first time I’ve been fired. I had that cushy job for 11 years. I was the foreman there and they loved me.

It won’t be your last if you are anything like me. There is always another job out there. You are a smart, honest young man with a lot of skills, you’ll be fine.

I walked out of there feeling much better and began pounding the pavement. I developed a routine where I’d hit as many print shops in day as possible. I even developed some subterfuges to get past the front desk. I quickly realized that I had to get past the desk to the foreman who could hire and fire. If I walked in and asked for the foreman the secretary would say he was busy.

I learned to call first and ask for the foreman’s name, saying I wanted to mail him a resume. Then I’d walk in the front door with a big smile and ask for Bob. Many times the desk lady thought I was a personal friend, otherwise why would I be smiling and know his name?

Other times I’d walk straight in the back entrance. Shops back then always kept the alley door open for ventilation and deliveries. Printing uses a lot of solvents and creates clouds of paper dust, air circulation is critical. I’d circulate in and talk shop with the pressmen, resume in hand. That particular time I got a job in ten days.

I found a shop up in Silverdale whose pressman had quit. The guy was desperate. I heard about the job from another boss nearby who didn’t need help but knew someone who did.

I meant this to be a blog post about grandmas. I’m married to one now. The kids and their kids come over regularly, or we drop by their houses. We just hang out. Sue does a lot of babysitting when they get in a pinch. Neither has a sitter. They both take turns with their spouses watching the kids, and rely on grandparents for un-avoidable complications. Both of my kids spouses have parents within an hours drive. Unlike a lot of people, our kids never left the state, or even the county, for college. So there is no need to ask advice of a bubbe on the sidewalk. They just come home. We are very fortunate.

I made my first YouTube short!