A Cardboard Man Can Be Enticing

Have any of you ever accepted a position for a job only to realize the first day of your new employment, you wonder if your eager acceptance was in your best interest? My parents did try to cultivate in me the traits of perseverance and commitment to a job well done, along with a good work ethic. Unfortunately, for one summer job I accepted, it was quite difficult to uphold their philosophies. Sorry, Mom and Dad.

It all began innocently enough when, as a college student, I accepted a summer position with a company that manufactured miniature cardboard concession stands. They were brimming with delightful mouthwatering snacks expressly for businesses owners and their customers. I was under the impression that the businesses wait with baited breath for the salesperson's arrival with the box of delectable delights. It is based on the honor system and the hungry, but, of course, honest (?) people drop money in the "golden money box."

I was told that I didn't even have to do a sales pitch because I was essentially giving the boxes away to open welcoming arms. If I did this successfully, I would make a whopping eight dollars a box. This most certain road to financial security seemed obvious to me. Just think of the money I could make by just "giving away" boxes of scrumptious snacks. Why, if I could "hit and give" a mere fifty businesses a day that would be four hundred dollars per day. I could practically envision the dream house I would be able to afford as a college girl, no less. Just imagine. I could hardly wait to get started!

Next scene -- now envision this -- a pitiful "giving away" peddler woman trudging along the street awkwardly balancing boxes brimming over with snacks, as I beg and plead with business owners to take them off my hands. There was no "giving away" in this scenario. I was getting an earful of all of its negative aspects. They had, obviously, accepted the initial donation from the "giving away" salesperson before me. Apparently, the goods became rancid, the honor system worked poorly and let's not even talk about the ant problem. I heard it all as my dream house was dissipating in my mind. Images of a letter that my father wrote me in college flashed before my eyes. He had said, "Your mother and I are so glad you are having the opportunity to be on your own and take care of yourself (as we know you can)." It was that last little parenthetical part that was plaguing me. Was there, perhaps, some doubt? Hmmm -- .I must think about the work ethic concept he had tried to instill in me. I thought to myself, '˜Alright then, I'm going to "beg" for someone to take this "box of junk" off my hands one more time and if that doesn't work, this job is history!"

I located one more potential business. As I was getting out of my car, I glanced up to see what kind of a place I would be "giving" the snacks. Much to my amazement and delight there was a man standing inside smiling and waving at -- could it be...why, yes, he was waving at me! I was about to make eight dollars I sensed. My father was right after all. I could take care of myself. I was about to make money for my supper.

I flashed my biggest smile and waved enthusiastically back at him! I entered the business with excited anticipation. But, of course, judging from his brilliant, accommodating smile, I knew "he" was the one anticipating me and my "box of junk."

Now -- here comes the ending that has become fodder over the years for my friend's entertainment purposes while pointing and laughing at me as they retell it time and time again. It's okay. I'm laughing with them'"anything for the healing power of laughing pleasure makes it all worthwhile.

Here's the ending. Get ready to laugh. As I eagerly rushed into the business, I saw standing before me a cardboard man with a giant smile and a waving hand. You know the ending -- -- .