I did it, so it's not a big deal
An accident is a big deal and surely is a reason to be angry and upset. That is, if someone else caused it. If you are responsible, it is nothing to worry about and why don’t we just forget about it. A mistake only counts when you are not the one making it.
Many years ago, my boss rushed into the office telling us in a loud tone of voice that an administrative error had caused the company to lose several hundred dollars.
“Mistakes like that should not be made,” he said. “We cannot afford it and it is totally unnecessary.”
He went on ranting and raving for a while and he wanted me to find out what had happened and who was responsible.
“And?” he asked when I came in to report.
He still had this angry tone of voice and I could hardly suppress a smile since I knew what was coming next.
The book seller
He must have been in his mid-fifties when I met him, and I only knew his last name. I doubt if anyone knew his first name.
Let’s call him Mr. N. He owned a small bookstore on the corner of a busy street. It was an old building and you had to go up two steps to the entrance.
He specialized in antique and vintage books with emphasis on local art and history. It was the to-go place for people who were looking for something specific.
The place used to be a house, and as such it still had different areas which used to be the living room, bedrooms, and such. The small kitchen was still there, with just enough space left for the coffee maker.
Moving from one section to the next could be a challenge. The place was always jam packed. There were not enough shelves to hold all the books and tall stacks of them were all over the floor. One wrong move and you would topple one of those piles.
There was an old oak kitchen table in the front and one my first visits it was still clearly visible. Over time the space on the top grew smaller and smaller and eventually the table disappeared into the sea of books. One tiny corner of the top was left clear, so he had space for the coffee mug.
Two chairs were available, one for Mr. N. himself of course, the other for a customer or someone who just stopped by to talk.
Mr. N was talkative, but only to people he liked. If you were not on his list of favorites he could be hard to deal with.
On one of my (business) visits he offered me coffee and I had to clear the seat of the second chair so I could sit down. Then the door opened and a man came in, that was also the store limit. There was no room in the entire place for more than two visitors.
It was just too tight
Our commercial property had two driveways that were connected in the back by a short turn, only suitable for cars and vans. The area in between had just been landscaped by my dad with shrubs and small trees.
We made sure to tell all delivery drivers that they should take the wide driveway, otherwise they would get stuck in the bend. The second driveway was just for cars. Most truckers didn’t need to be told though; from their cabin they could clearly see which one to back into.
One of them, the driver for a mattress company, was not that smart. He pulled in forward with his sizable box truck and when he couldn’t make the curve he just plowed through the bushes causing considerable damage.
My dad saw it coming but didn’t get there in time to prevent it from happening. The driver got out like it was no big deal. “Why on earth did you do that,” my dad yelled. “Didn’t you see that you couldn’t make the turn?”
The driver shrugged his shoulders. “It couldn’t help it; it is just too tight there.”
Apparently it hadn’t occurred to him that he should have backed out and gone in the other driveway.
A few minutes later my dad was on the phone with the owner of the company, who also happened to be the older brother of the driver. He didn’t seem at all surprised, he clearly knew what his brother was capable of. “Just get if fixed and send me the bill,” he said. That is what happened, and the bill was promptly paid.
A few months later the same driver made another delivery. It happened when our business was closed, and we were not there to help with the unloading and check the merchandise.
Free software
Everybody likes free stuff, right?
Every now and then I do a search for free software. May be something pops up that can be useful for me.
Most times, however, the search results are somewhat misleading. They show up with the notion: ‘free download.’ If you don’t know any better you would think that’s a great deal.
Look further and you’ll notice that the actual download is free, but you have to pay to use the software.
That’s like physical stores saying that entering and looking around is free, silly isn’t it?
Another annoyance is that some software developers offer a free version. Great, but soon you will see that in this version so many options are disabled that it is basically unusable. Or every two minutes popup tells you that you should upgrade to the full version.
Have you ever tried software that can find and restore files that you deleted by mistake? Some of them do find these files after scanning the drives for a while but then it tells you that in order to restore them, you need the paid version of the software. Frustrating and a waste of time. It should be clear before installing it that the free version does not actually restore the files.
It’s not all bad though, There are some wonderful programs that works great and are completely free with no strings attached. Just check closely before you install it and never, ever download from a questionable source. The last thing you want to do is to introduce viruses and malware to your system.
After all this time
In the weeks leading up to the written exams, one of our teachers made us come back on our regular free Wednesday afternoons and made us complete extra tests.
We weren’t happy about it; didn’t we spend enough hours in the classroom already?
“It’s for your own good,” he said. “You will benefit from it, trust me.”
He sounded like my mother. Whenever she said that something was for my own good it usually meant I had to do something that I hated.
So, while we could see the sunshine through the windows, and other students having fun in the park adjacent to the school, we were slaving away doing our bookkeeping assignment. Trying to finish as fast as possible didn’t make a difference. We were not to leave until the last student had finished. And the slowest ones were always subjects of frustration.
It usually took two long hours before we were dismissed and the sighs of relief could be heard in the other classrooms, I’m sure.
The exams rolled around and every one of us passed. The extra work had paid off, just as the teacher had promised. But we were too oblivious to give credit where credit was due.
Many years later it still comes to mind every now and then, and it still bothers me that I didn’t thank him personally for his effort. He did not just do his job; he went the extra mile because he really cared.
Here is a late “Thank you Mr. Duyker.” Not that it makes a difference. He must have passed away decades ago, but I still wanted to get it off my chest.