wanted to answer Nick’s question honestly. He wanted to get off the subject. “You look like you’ve been out in the sun all afternoon. Can I get you something to drink? You know we sell soft drinks in glasses here as well as bottles and cans.” Michael picked up the king size cup behind him. “These are only fifty five cents.”
Nick looked vaguely uncomfortable. He pulled a couple of silver dollars out of his pocket and laid them on the counter. “These are good, aren’t they?”
Michael picked one up. “Yeah, sure. Though you don’t see many of them around. Did you get them at the bank?”
“No. At the Italian market.”
“In the mall? Man, I love the smell in that place.”
“Their warehouse in the back don’t smell so good.”
“What were you doing back there?”
“They needed some boxes moved.”
Michael knew the owner of the market. He had probably worked Nick to death for a couple of hours and then given him the two silver dollars, probably thinking Nick would imagine they were worth more or something.
Michael was looking for a new employee. The owners had told him to hire whomever he wanted. They trusted his judgment.
“Was it a temporary job?” he asked, knowing it was. Who would hire a black with bloody hair?
“Yeah. I’ll have one of those big Cokes for fiftyfive cents.”
“Sure.” Michael reached over, scooped some ice into the paper cup. “Have you done enough work for one day?”
Nick seemed interested. “I could do more.”
“I’m rearranging our storeroom. But because I have to keep coming back up front to handle the register, it’s taking me forever. It’s backbreaking work—all you’re doing is lifting—but someone like you could probably finish most of it in a few hours. I could give you thirty bucks under the table, no tax taken out?”
Nick accepted his Coke, took a deep swallow. “Show me where to start.”
Michael led Nick to the rear of the store and gave him an overview of how disorganized things were. Nick grasped immediately what had to be done. After a couple minutes of discussion, Michael left Nick alone. He needed help with the storeroom, true, but Michael was also using the chore as a test. If Nick did good work, he would offer him a permanent parttime job. It would be handy having someone around who could reach the top shelves without a ladder.
Two hours later, as it began to get dark outside and the faint sounds of Tabb High’s band drifted through the open door from the direction of the school stadium, Nick reappeared and announced he had finished. One look in the back and Michael was astounded. Not only was everything neatly arranged, Nick had obviously used his own initiative—and used it wisely—in setting up certain sections. This meant a lot to Michael. He’d previously had a couple of employees who had been fine workers except that they had required constant supervision. Obviously Nick had common sense as well as powerful biceps.
Getting three tens out of the cash register, Michael made his offer. He could guarantee him at least twenty hours a week, although some weeks he’d need Nick close to thirty. He gave him a brief summary of what his responsibilities would be, and what he would start at. Nick listened patiently, and from his stoic expression, it was impossible to tell what was going on in his head. He asked only two questions.
“Will I be working with you all the time?”
“Most of the time,” Michael said.
Nick thought for a moment. “Why are you doing this for me?”
“I’m offering you the job because you’ve proven to me you know how to work. I’m not doing anything for you.”
Nick nodded. “I appreciate it, anyway. The only one who would even talk to me at the mall was that Italian guy, and I know he just ripped me off.” He put his thirty dollars in his pocket. “Can I just keep working now?”
Michael smiled. “You’ll take it then?”
Nick smiled, too, finally letting his pleasure show. “Yeah.
Nick looked vaguely uncomfortable. He pulled a couple of silver dollars out of his pocket and laid them on the counter. “These are good, aren’t they?”
Michael picked one up. “Yeah, sure. Though you don’t see many of them around. Did you get them at the bank?”
“No. At the Italian market.”
“In the mall? Man, I love the smell in that place.”
“Their warehouse in the back don’t smell so good.”
“What were you doing back there?”
“They needed some boxes moved.”
Michael knew the owner of the market. He had probably worked Nick to death for a couple of hours and then given him the two silver dollars, probably thinking Nick would imagine they were worth more or something.
Michael was looking for a new employee. The owners had told him to hire whomever he wanted. They trusted his judgment.
“Was it a temporary job?” he asked, knowing it was. Who would hire a black with bloody hair?
“Yeah. I’ll have one of those big Cokes for fiftyfive cents.”
“Sure.” Michael reached over, scooped some ice into the paper cup. “Have you done enough work for one day?”
Nick seemed interested. “I could do more.”
“I’m rearranging our storeroom. But because I have to keep coming back up front to handle the register, it’s taking me forever. It’s backbreaking work—all you’re doing is lifting—but someone like you could probably finish most of it in a few hours. I could give you thirty bucks under the table, no tax taken out?”
Nick accepted his Coke, took a deep swallow. “Show me where to start.”
Michael led Nick to the rear of the store and gave him an overview of how disorganized things were. Nick grasped immediately what had to be done. After a couple minutes of discussion, Michael left Nick alone. He needed help with the storeroom, true, but Michael was also using the chore as a test. If Nick did good work, he would offer him a permanent parttime job. It would be handy having someone around who could reach the top shelves without a ladder.
Two hours later, as it began to get dark outside and the faint sounds of Tabb High’s band drifted through the open door from the direction of the school stadium, Nick reappeared and announced he had finished. One look in the back and Michael was astounded. Not only was everything neatly arranged, Nick had obviously used his own initiative—and used it wisely—in setting up certain sections. This meant a lot to Michael. He’d previously had a couple of employees who had been fine workers except that they had required constant supervision. Obviously Nick had common sense as well as powerful biceps.
Getting three tens out of the cash register, Michael made his offer. He could guarantee him at least twenty hours a week, although some weeks he’d need Nick close to thirty. He gave him a brief summary of what his responsibilities would be, and what he would start at. Nick listened patiently, and from his stoic expression, it was impossible to tell what was going on in his head. He asked only two questions.
“Will I be working with you all the time?”
“Most of the time,” Michael said.
Nick thought for a moment. “Why are you doing this for me?”
“I’m offering you the job because you’ve proven to me you know how to work. I’m not doing anything for you.”
Nick nodded. “I appreciate it, anyway. The only one who would even talk to me at the mall was that Italian guy, and I know he just ripped me off.” He put his thirty dollars in his pocket. “Can I just keep working now?”
Michael smiled. “You’ll take it then?”
Nick smiled, too, finally letting his pleasure show. “Yeah.
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