Friday was payday!

Today’s story is from David Vogt.

David Vogt with dad Bill, his model in life.

I had just turned 6.
I was building a barn in rural Illinois.
I was working for Dad.
I was paid 50 cents an hour.
Dad was a factory worker. He made screws for telephones.

Back then, he needed to moonlight construction to support our family. He eventually rose into management, a high paying job. That week, he was pouring a concrete floor for a barn. It was backbreaking labor.  

I was Dad’s little helper, a “gofer,” he said. For a 6-year old, the worksite was full of temptation, like furrowing dirt “roads” for the toy trucks I brought along.

As Dad worked on the barn, my imaginary “crew” zoomed over my miniature roads. I had a ball. Dad was so nice. He said not a word.

As we wrapped up on Friday, I tallied my pay at eight bucks. Sixteen hours of “kind-of” hard work. I watched as Dad slapped down my bills.

Oops, only $6 I thought. He owed me two more.

“Dad,” I said, (feeling rather proud to show off my advanced math), “I worked 16 hours this week. That’s eight bucks, not six.” The boss didn’t blink.

“David,” he said, “You spent 4 hours on roads, 12 on the barn. You don’t get paid for work you don’t do.”

I pouted a lot, but knew he was right. That day impacted my life.

It was the best 2 bucks I never earned.

Today, I’m an HR Business Partner in the People Department for Southwest Airlines. My charge: the development of strong leaders, teams, and organizations. I have a family of my own, and still look to my dad as my model in life.

I’ve long since put away my toy trucks, but I’ll never forget the lesson I learned.