By Keith Robinson
While I can’t recall the year of my first “real” job, I clearly remember that the first legitimate paycheck I ever cashed was from Burger King in Lee. Yes, I did fail early in life in making sure my community was benefiting from home-grown labor, but one must stretch one’s legs, no?
Prior to my first, aforementioned legitimate paycheck, my main source of income was a combination of my parents’ generosity and an allowance. Said allowance would increase as I became more useful with tasks, such as mowing lawns with my parents. While the pay was modest, the meals were good and the rent was more than affordable.
Burger King was, and will always be, my first job. I met so many cool and different people through working there. The managers put me through my paces. Sandy Reynolds stands out in my mind. Every job station was a new challenge and the best was the register. The general public was now my playground. I could joke with people I would see often and also remind people of their regular orders when they forgot. But my favorite memory is instructing my dad to order a Whopper with heavy lettuce. Nobody orders heavy lettuce and that was our secret code to make a fresh (off the grill) Double Whopper with bacon, cheese, lettuce and tomato with light mayo and ketchup with no pickles. I heard one manager say, “I can’t even close the box on this.” It still makes me smile.
My next job would turn out to be the one to launch my career. My “application process” with Sid Van Orman consisted of my dad bringing me to the Sherwood Shoppe on a Saturday morning at 6:00 am. Sid brought me outside and the conversation went something like this:
“Are you willing to work?”
“Yes sir.”
“Okay, be here next Saturday at 6:00.”
The winter of 1988 was when I realized working with my parents and working for Burger King did not completely prepare me for the next step. There were lifts of lumber to sort and carry, snow to shovel and job sites to clean. But I loved it! My childhood friend Juston and I had music playing, and we had competitions on who could stack the most lumber or who could complete their task faster. In hind sight this is what made the job the most fun. We were enjoying ourselves in something that was not only helping us, but it helped our boss and the people who would, inevitably, live in the house.
In the summer of 1989 I was 17, with a license, and a pretty sweet 1978 Chevy Impala. That summer was all work. The construction with the Van Ormans was teaching me how to be humble (not easy for me) while encouraging me to build things properly. My ass was kicked, and then I kicked ass back. At that point, preparing for college was the goal. Making and saving money were a necessity. Enter Don O’Brien and Watch It Grow landscaping. My dad, once again acting as my personal headhunter, was repairing Don’s pickup truck. I was not privy to the initial conversation, but once again my application process went something like this:
“Are you willing to work?”
“Yes sir.”
“Okay, be at my house on Monday at 3pm, and don’t disappoint me.”
Lawns were mowed, lumber was stacked, construction was happening, and now I was learning how to sustain and cultivate the vegetation that surrounds all of us while listening and learning from everyone I came in contact with. As the times would demand, Don would change our work day so that we could watch General Hospital. His wife, Mickie, would make us an early dinner and we would go off into the sunset to breathe in dried leaves and powdered lime. It is disturbing how much General Hospital holds a prominence in my life. I saw Luke and Laura get married at a Cub Scout meeting in 1981. I digress.
In 1990 college happened. I saved a lot so I didn’t have to do much work. And as it happened, I didn’t do much work in college either, but I’ll save those tales for another story.
Circa 1993 I actually answered my phone one day and was asked if I wanted to work. I, of course, said “Duh” and that’s when my tenure with Preston Webb started. What we had worked and worked well. From small additions to garages to houses. This relationship not only helped me learn more about building, but more about the people we worked for. And like Burger King, a good manager put me in the game. Of course, construction work does not come without a cost. Many splinters were removed, some blood was shed, and my favorite injury was from Preston’s point of view, “You had a piece of plywood in your hands and were walking over the deck and I looked back and you were gone.” There was a slight bit of moisture on the floor joists at the Mahoneys’ soon-to-be-constructed house, and I stepped inappropriately. Back in those days, my body fit neatly between those joists, and I landed in the basement with construction adhesive all the way up the inside of my arms. A sticky situation, indeed. Luckily, I did not ruin the fingers I type with to this day.
Nowadays I work independently as a carpenter and still enjoy the challenges, occasional injuries, getting to know my customers, and helping to make their home dreams come alive. I credit all the experiences outlined above for allowing me to make a solid and satisfying career here in Becket.
Thank you for putting up with another long-winded soliloquy about my experiences in this town I, lovingly, call home. I am not a world-hopping global traveler, but this place is the best. As my former boss Don O’Brien would say, “Once you drink the water, you can’t leave.” Probably because the well is too close to the septic.
