A STORY WORTH TELLING
“ Every bad situation will have something positive to offer if you look for it. Even a broken clock has the right time twice a day.”
— Author unknown.
“You’re the newspaper guy, aren’t you?”
That question came at a social function last week.
“I used to be … who wants to know?” I said, smiling and turning to face my questioner.
“I read your column every week,” the kind soul said. “It’s the best thing in the paper.”
“Bless you,” I responded, clutching her hand in both of mine. “You are too kind.”
“Everybody knows you,” commented a friend in the conversation. “That’s the second person here who has complimented your newspaper work.”
“I’ve done nothing,” I said. “I owe much to many, those who oiled the hinges for me when doors of opportunity opened. I learned what to do from some great people. But I also had learning experiences from some individuals better avoided.”
Later that evening, I reflected on those thoughts and experiences.
Good fortune smiled on me decades ago when I met Morris Craig at The Naples Monitor in Northeast Texas. He took a chance on me when I was at a crossroads in my life. He taught me how to produce a profitable hometown newspaper with a faithful following and we became lifelong friends along the way.
A few years later, Jim Chionsini in Center challenged me to use that knowledge and grow it into something larger than my dreams.
Likewise, we too forged a lasting friendship.
Even with good mentors, however, there are always potholes and risky detours, including times when hearing “you’re that newspaper guy, aren’t you” made me look for the nearest exit.
Like the time long ago when I found myself up to my newspaper assets in shady alligators at a small weekly. I took the job as a young editor because the one hiring me promised “financial gain and professional growth.”
It seemed unusual at first when the owner was rarely around during business hours.
“He’s just busy selling advertising,” I assumed.
Turns out he was busy all right. He was “working” at night — playing cards, partaking of spirits with friends after hours at the newspaper office and hiding from bill collectors.
“Hey, buddy,” he called out the night I popped in to get my camera. “Sit down, we’ll deal you in.”
“Pass,” I said. “Got pictures to take.”
Next, I noticed the day’s cash-box receipts shrank on game nights.
Deposits dwindled. And finally, employees came to me for help with our rubber paychecks.
One day before cardgame night, money in the cash box covered the paychecks. And thus, my plot to keep employees paid was devised.
Deciding I had learned all I needed to know there, I dropped my resignation letter in the cash box.
“Where ya’ going, buddy?” the owner called the next day. “I need you.” “Sorry,” I said calmly.
“You know … seekin’ that financial gain and professional growth.”
“Just give me time to find somebody else,” he said.
Two weeks later, I heard, “Give me just a couple more weeks.”
That scenario was repeated until the afternoon a lady walked into the office wearing business attire and carrying a briefcase.
“May I speak to the owner?” she asked, presenting her business card.
It said IRS.
“What is your position?” she said to me.
“Editor,” I stuttered.
“But I’ve submitted my resignation, waiting on the owner to find a replacement.”
“Do you sign checks?” “Just paychecks to ensure employees are paid out of the cash box,” I stammered, beads of sweat breaking on my brow.
“I advise you to stop immediately,” she said.
“No problem,” rolled off my lips. A quick call found the owner at one of his known hideouts.
“Hey buddy,” he started. “I’m still looking … just a couple more weeks.”
“That’s not why I called,” I said. “Someone here wants to talk to you. But since you brought it up, I’ll be leaving as soon as I hand her the phone. Oh … and thanks for the learning experience.”
I asked the IRS agent if she needed anything else from me.
“No, but thank you,” she said with a smile.
“Better luck in your next job.”
Yes, I’m that newspaper guy. The one with “broken-clock moment” stories on my road to success.
Contact Aldridge at leonaldridge@ gmail. com. Other Aldridge columns are archived at leonaldridge. com.
