A few years ago I worked for a company that informed us they had volunteered us to ring the bell for one 12-hour period of time during the holidays at a local department store.
They needed 12 people to agree to guard the kettle for one hour. This was not met with great enthusiasm, so they got six to agree to a two hour stint.
I was to stand my watch, as it were, from 6 until 8 in the evening. At 3:30, a friend at work, we’ll call Bill, who is an ex-Marine, left to take the shift before mine. At 4:30, my manager approached me — I could tell from his body language he was about to ask me to do something I might not want to do.
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“The store just called, they need you to come on over now and start your turn a little early. Can you do that?"
I scanned my desk to make sure there was nothing that couldn’t wait until after Christmas and nodded affirmatively. Jumping up, I moved out and arrived at the department store within 30 minutes. As I approached I noticed one customer frantically digging in his pockets and dropping the change in the kettle before he moved inside quickly. Bill had another, kind of jack up against the wall, verbally at least, there were no hands involved. I went inside and spoke to the manager who would need to come out and empty the kettle before I started.
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“This guy is scaring the customers, I’ve had at least twenty complaints in an hour, he needs to go and you best not think of acting like he is.”
I said I understood and we went outside together to relieve Bill of his duties. The manger was evidently a little scared to confront Bill but found new courage with my presence. He was not kind as he removed Bill from his post. Bill, for his part, was hurt and confused, like everything he was asked to do he’d attacked the job with gusto. Bill may have been the only person ever fired from ringing the bell, in history.
I stood my three hours and rang the bell the best I could, my natural enthusiasm possibly dimmed by the manager’s threats. Christmas came and went, which meant we had the hard part left to do. You know, the go-back-to-work part. We started each week with a sales meeting on Monday morning and we were in the middle of it. Our management was very informal, so one of the managers did a little stand-up routine about the phone call about Bill. I followed with another about the conversation and threats I’d received because of Bill.
Bill, for his part, was laughing with the rest of us, but he was slightly hurt. In the middle of this our sales manager’s phone rang, since he only received important calls on it he excused himself and answered.
“Yeah, I got it, sure, send him up.” He hung up, shrugged his shoulders and said, “Hold that thought,” with his pinkie raised.
We waited wondering what in the world he was talking about and listened as the footsteps of someone climbing the stairs got closer.
I was shocked when that big bellied, crew cutted, big headed manager walked into the room.
He cleared his throat, “Hi my name is, it might as well been Billy Bob, I don’t remember, and I’m the manager of the Mega, Mindbender, Marvelous Mart. I guess I owe Bill an apology. It was two days before Christmas, the store was crazy and the customers were complaining. It wasn’t until the next day I realized they were simply complaining more this year than most. Someone called me this morning to tell me that more money was raised during Bill’s one hour than all the other eleven that your company manned the kettle. That in itself is striking, but they said it was almost the most productive hour throughout the season.” He cleared his throat and exited the room.
"Well, by God," Bill stated with a mulish grin. He was vindicated, but it didn’t last long. Bill was eventually fired for so effectively convincing his customers that his commission would be low on their deal that many wrote a separate check payable directly to him. He was making more under the table than he was making on it. Not a Christmas passes that I don’t think of Bill and wonder what he’s doing now.