 My son and I were coming back from Starbucks on a Saturday morning recently, and out of the blue he asked me, "Dad, what's a boss?"
 I gave a pretty basic answer. I said that the boss was the person who told you what to do at a company. If the boss needed someone to do a job, he or she would interview people, and pick the person they liked and hire that person. After that, the boss would tell you what to do every day. I gave my son a little more detail about how people report in an organization, talking about managers, owners, and CEOs. I said a few things about private and public companies. Now, I know that is a horrible explanation of what a good boss really is, but he's 9, so he wasn't looking for a long explanation.
A few minutes later we passed a neighborhood with a sign out on the street that said HUGE GARAGE SALE! 9-4!
Under that, the sign said, "Power tools, tons of books, and everything else."
This sounded like more than your average dud garage sale, and the sign teased me with a few things I might actually be interested in, so we pulled in to check it out.
At first the outlook was not so promising. A woman sat at a chair at the entry to her garage, and I saw a handful of old rusty pieces of junk lined up on a card table or two. But once I got further into the garage and looked closer, I saw that it extended back into several other rooms, and that every possible space of the floor, walls, and tables was packed with tools, nails, plumbing fixtures, dozens of books stacked on shelves, electrical supplies, brooms, widgets, and every manner of thing you would expect in a well-stocked handyman's workspace after about 50 years of tinkering. It was a mini Home Depot of used tools. Every item, large and small, down to the smallest nail, had a price sticker on it. I could spend an hour in there.
"You must be moving," I said to the woman by way of conversation.
"No, my husband died," she said. "These were his things."
 Insert foot in mouth. Feeling a little awkward, I said a few more cordial words and moved in for a serious look.
In the very back, hanging over an old work bench filled with dozens of wrenches, screwdrivers, clamps, and whatnot, was a small picture frame with a letter inside that said "Dear Kid."
Intrigued, I took a closer look.
"Dear Kid," it began with a tone of disdain, "Today you asked me for a job. From the look of your shoulders as you walked out, I suspect you've been turned down before."
Ok, I was hooked. I had to see where this was going. And sure enough, it got preachy, fast.
"I hired a teenager today," it went on. "He was the one with the polished shoes and necktie. What was so special about him? Not experience, neither of you had any. It was his attitude that put him on the payroll instead of you. Attitude, son. A-T-T-I-T-U-D-E."
Oh, this was good stuff. You don't expect this on your drive back from Starbucks. I read on.
"You see, kid, many of the people who hire other people aren't 'with' a lot of things. We know more about foxtrots than discotheques, and we have some Stone-Age ideas about who owes whom a living."
This was the real deal. Good old-fashioned raw opinion.
"I couldn't care less that you needed 'bread for your pad.' How you pay your rent is your problem. What I needed was someone who'd go out in the plant, keep his eyes open, and work for me like he'd work for himself. Look kid: the only time jobs grew on trees was while most of our country's manpower was wearing GI's and pulling KP. Maybe jobs aren't as plentiful right now, but a lot of us can remember when master craftsman walked the streets."
By the way, the best part was that the picture frame had a big piece of blue tape stuck to it with "$1.25" scrawled on it in heavy marker. Did the garage sale lady really think this cheap plastic frame and dime wisdom was worth $1.25?
I read on.
"You may not believe it, but all around you employers are looking for young men smart enough to go after a job in the old-fashioned way. When they find a fellow like that, they can't wait to unload some of their worries on him."
My son was not interested in standing around while I read some old curmudgeon’s guiding principles, so it was time to leave. But I took the picture off the wall and told the lady I would give her a dollar for it. The message, the frame and the location over the workbench all conjured a detailed picture of the man who put it there years ago -- a guy who believed in elbow grease and working long hours and who didn't expect the world to hand him anything on a silver platter. Who believed in "good old-fashioned American ideals." And who probably believed the country was going to hell in a handbasket. (As every generation believes.) He wore white tank top t-shirts. Was probably balding. Maybe hunted deer.
What would he think, if he were still alive, of our current economic mess? Probably something like this: "everyone wants a fancy TV with no cash up front, everyone wants more house than they can afford, everyone wants to be paid more for working less. Americans want it all without working for it," he'd complain, "and if we don't bring back the American work ethic, all the labor will go overseas." Or something like that.
 I'm not an economist so I am not in a position to either agree or disagree, but that's what I hear our old-fashioned curmudgeon saying. Those conclusions, which I have heard many people voice, might be a bit of an overstatement. There are an enormous number of hard-working Americans, and the work ethic is still strong in many quarters. Plenty of people badly want a job. There were always ambitious people who knew it took a long time to be successful, who didn't expect a free ride or to get rich quick. And there have always been lazy people that expected something for nothing. And angry bosses who hounded them. To some extent, workers don't change, and bosses don't change.
But, in general, do Americans expect more for less these days? Do they have a sense of entitlement compared to the rest of the world? Well, one thing I know is that the times HAVE changed. The world is full of ambitious people in developing countries who want to improve their standard of living, making jobs in America more competitive every minute of every day. Now, more than ever, it's important to (paraphrasing the letter) "set yourself apart."
As we climbed into the car and my son got himself buckled into his car seat in the back, eager to get home to his Xbox, I handed the picture frame back to him.
"Remember you asked me about the boss?" I said. "Read this."
To view the full letter, click here.
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