Promise Me
Sara Etgen-Baker
©
Copyright 2023 by Sara Etgen-Baker
|
Photo
property of Sara.
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“Promise
Me” is a memoir and a true, biographical account of my first
summer job and the time I spent with my supervisor, Nancy—a
‘crusty’ woman who changed the trajectory of my life for
the better.
The
folding doors opened; I clambered up the short set of stairs; dropped
my fare into the change receptacle; then inched my way down the
narrow aisle that divided the seats on either side of the city bus.
When it jerked into motion, I grabbed hold of one of the leather hand
loops that hung from the ceiling, swaying back and forth as the bus
buzzed down the freeway then zigzagged its way along the downtown
streets. From the smudged glass windows, I watched the lavender
early morning as it lit the faces of the steel-framed monoliths. Just
before my stop, I pulled the wire signaling the driver to stop
at the next corner. The bus bolted to a halt, and the folding doors
opened. I stepped down onto the sidewalk and stared up at the
glistening giant that now stood before me.
I
walked forward; but the sidewalk, damp from an earlier rainstorm,
forced me into a child’s game of leapfrog over small pools of
water. I smiled remembering when I was a little girl and the fun I
had after a rainstorm jumping in puddles and scattering water over my
red rain boots. But those days were long past. I was 17 going on
18, and today was the first day at my summer job working for an
insurance company in downtown Dallas.
I
checked my reflection in the huge plate glass window; adjusted my
dress; moistened my fingers; and smoothed my bangs. I slid through
the revolving glass door and took the elevator to the tenth floor
where Nancy, my supervisor, greeted me—her arms folded across
her chest.
“You
must be my new summer recruit,” she said in a wheezy voice. Nancy
twisted open her tattered cigarette case; retrieved a cigarette
from it; and positioned it in the corner of her mouth. She struck a
match then brought the tip of the match to the end of her cigarette
engulfing it in the match’s tiny flame. She inhaled then
flicked her match onto the floor extinguishing it underneath her
shoe. Nancy did an about face. “Follow me,” she
demanded, cigarette smoke billowing from her nostrils. She marched
in perfect rhythm across the scuffed-up, gray linoleum floor; I
obeyed and stepped behind her keeping my elbows tucked in as we
paraded down the narrow strip of tiles between row upon row of neatly
dressed, army-green file cabinets that appeared to be standing at
attention just waiting for her next command.
“We
use a color-coded, alpha-numeric filing system. It’s all
explained in here.” She handed me a rather crumpled,
weathered-looking booklet. “Understanding this system will
help you pull files for insureds whose policies are up for renewal.
You pull files every morning. Once the policies are rated, typed,
and mailed, then they’re refilled. Refiling is done every
afternoon. Don’t leave until you’ve refiled the files in
your section. This,” she pulled my time card from the clock
card machine, “is where you’ll punch in. Remember to
punch in every day or you won’t get paid. Be on time. No
dilly-dallying in my department,” she said with her lips
tightly pursed. “And remember, the work we do here is
important, so don’t be sloppy.”
Using
one of her yellowed fingers, Nancy tapped her cigarette ashes onto
the floor by my feet and handed me a piece of paper. “Here’s
your list of files to pull this morning. Bring ‘em to me once
you’re done. Lunch is from noon to 12:30; you can bring your
own lunch or eat in the cafeteria; it’s on the sixth floor. You
get all that, recruit?”
“Yes
ma’am.” I replied, resisting the urge to salute.
“Now,
get to work!” Nancy did another about face and marched toward
her office.
Thus
began my first summer job. Despite Nancy’s surly personality,
I liked working for her. Yes, she was direct. But she was clear and
to the point, and I always knew where I stood with her. During the
ensuing weeks, Nancy taught me some important office skills—typing,
filing, time management, answering the telephone, problem solving,
and handling conflict with strangers. As a result, I matured and
became more confident. I also developed a taste for earning my own
money and came to appreciate the value of hard work and an honest
day’s pay.
So
when summer came to an end, I contemplated quitting high school and
continuing to work. But when Nancy learned of my plan, she hailed me
into her office. “Look at me,” she huffed like a
cannon, her chest pushing out smoke in rapid, deliberate bursts. “I
don’t have a family. I don’t have a career. I don’t
have beauty or a man. I don’t have money, and I sure as hell
don’t have a future. Don’t settle for life here like I
did. Don’t sell yourself short. Don’t do it!” she
said with protest in her eyes. “You’re smart as a whip
and one of the smartest recruits I’ve ever had. You’re
sure as hell better than this place. Don’t be mediocre. You’ll trap
yourself and become cynical like me. Leave this
place! Graduate from high school. Go to college. Don’t come
back here. Promise me!” Nancy ground her smoldering cigarette
into her ashtray. “Promise me that!”
“Okay,
Nancy, okay!” I agreed, my face stiffening like iron and my
body tensing with shock. “Okay! I promise.”
And
was I true to that promise, never forgetting it nor the crusty woman
who steered me away from a dead-end job and down the path toward high
school graduation and later, college. College was difficult, though;
and I often doubted myself and my ability to continue. And on more
than one occasion, I wanted to quit. But in those moments when I
struggled, Nancy’s advice echoed in my mind encouraging me and
giving me the fortitude to carry on. I kept my promise to her and
graduated from college obtaining a teaching certificate with a major
in business, German, and English.
When
I walked across the stage on graduation day and received my diploma,
I looked out upon the crowd. For just a moment, I thought I saw
Nancy applauding from a front row seat. She wasn’t there, of
course; but she was there in spirit. To this day, I’m grateful
for Nancy; her advice altered the course of my life and forever
changed me. My college education strengthened me; broadened my
perspective; opened endless doors of opportunity; and afforded me a
life rich with possibilities and adventures that I wouldn’t
have experienced had Nancy not been passionate enough and brave
enough to challenge me to a promise—an agreement to claim a
life beyond mediocrity.
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