Silver Linings.

When I was in high school, my Grandfather got me a job at a dime store on the South Side of St. Louis. In those days not many black folks lived or worked on that side of town.

I really didn't want the job. It interfered with my high school social life. On Saturdays, instead of going to the football games, I had to be at work. I resented that. I also resented the all white staff, especially the head woman who insisted on calling me Denny. I wouldn't respond until she called me by my right name.

It was a really old fashioned 5 and Dime. Bare wooden floors. Fabric by the yard. Thankfully no soda fountain. I would have gained a ton of weight had that been so.

My hands would be stained with purple and black ink after hours of rolling and banding the store's sales flyers. That kept me busy between customers at the check out. The boss lady did not like to see me idle. If there had been cell phones back then I would have been on mine, taking selfies of my bored self. Bitching about how much I hated my job.

My pay checks were very small as I only worked the weekends. The only thing I liked about this job was that in the basement there were discarded paper back books. The covers were ripped off and they would be sent back to the distributor. They were free to us employees if we wanted them. I wanted them. I would bring home 4 or 5 books every weekend. Some of them I still have today. There is always a silver lining.