Thursday, January 28, 2016

Installment # 47

I used to earn some money caddying, but it started interfering with my lost weekends, so I took my first real job stocking shelves at the local A&P grocery store during the week.  I started at $1.05 per hour, which I didn’t realize was minimum wage until they raised it to $1.25 per hour a month or so later, because the minimum wage was raised.  Actually, I had worked from age 12 (paper route) to age 17 when I joined the Army.  I caddied from age 14 to 17 and worked at the A&P for a few months before enlisting.  When we lived in Massapequa and later rented in Bethpage, I caddied at the Bethpage public golf course.  When we moved to Inwood I caddied at a nearby private country club.  I guess only the pros use caddies these days.  In my day we had a few “cart pullers,” as we derisively called them; hardly anybody used an electric cart.  I don’t recall whether they did not exist or were just too expensive compared to using a caddy. 

At Bethpage I think the minimum was $2.50 or so for one bag.  I do recall that $3 for a single and $6 for a double, including tip, was on the low side, while $4 and $8 was considered good.  Between waiting around in the caddy yard to get out, and then caddying 18 holes, I basically spent all day to earn $6 to $8.  But for a kid with no bills and no responsibilities, that was good.  Cigarettes cost 25 cents a pack in those days, a cheeseburger was 35 cents, and beer was $1.25 a six-pack, so two days of caddying on the weekend set me up pretty good for the week ahead.  The other point, though, is that when some speaker brags that he has worked since he was 12 years old, I can truthfully say, “Well, so did I.”

When I enlisted, I indicated I wanted to be assigned to the Corp of Engineers, where I might learn something useful for eventual civilian employment.  The draft sergeant was of course very accommodating – there was just this minor matter of passing the aptitude test.  What a joke!  A lack of common sense shows up glaringly in an engineering aptitude test.  For some reason, I always remembered one question that I got wrong (out of many):  There was a drawing of a river flowing in a certain direction, going around a bend, and they asked which bank of the river would erode quicker from the constant flow of the water, the one on the inside of the turn, or the outside.  Even if I had never heard of centrifugal force, intuition probably should have led me to see that the outer bank would receive the most force and erosion (“wear and tear” in my vocabulary).  I was probably visualizing rounding first base, heading for second, where you want to keep the turn sharp and not drift out toward the outfield grass.  It slows you down if you allow yourself to drift to the right.  Actually, I don’t know what I was thinking.  Long story short, I was assigned to the infantry (common foot soldier).

I wonder how many Christmas mornings Bobby went ahead and assembled a complex toy while I was still trying to understand the instructions.  When I read instructions, evidently written by a technical person, I get hung up on some of the nomenclature that seems deliberately vague or subject to more than one interpretation.  Just this past weekend I was trying to light a barbeque where the instructions said to light the main one first.  But there were three knobs, all the same size, and none of them labeled “Main.”  I can only guess they meant the middle one.  (I also suspect it doesn’t matter which one you light first).  But why don’t they say “middle one” or else label the correct one “Main”?   And then there are assembly instruction words like “grommet.”  Where in the world did they come up with a word like that to describe some little thing?  Even a word like “washer” can distract me.  We know what it means to wash something.  We have washing machines and washrooms, but why would a little round thingy be called a washer?  What were they thinking?  Then the instructions say that before starting, I should match the pictures and descriptions of all of the parts against the bag of parts that came in the box.  I have to go by the pictures, since none of the words were included in my high school reading assignments.

When I first saw the wide-spread, out-in-the-open use of “the male end” and “the female end” to describe various hardware items, I was scandalized.  I glanced around the store to see if there were women and children in the same aisles as me.  (There were!). I’m pretty sure this would never have been allowed back in my parents’ day.  Women probably don’t even blush now when they take such items to the checkout counter, or when they ask for help finding the “male/female adapter.” The instructions also tell me to read all of the warnings, and to read all the instructions all the way through before beginning.  I suspect that if something goes wrong and I have to return the product, they are going to look me in the eye and ask, “Well, did you read the instructions all the way through to the end, including the safety warnings?”  If I say “Yes,” they may test me on the spot and know that I am lying.  Alas, the world of inanimate objects always had it in for me. I am much more comfortable in the world of ideas than in the world of physical objects. 

A little off the subject but in a similar vein, it really bugs me that so many written advertisements have what I call “undefined asterisks.”  A recent one was a cruise with “from $7,899* double occupancy.”  Nowhere was this * defined or discussed.  This is so common place that I suspect we have all come to accept that it is like a ‘wink’ that says something like: “We, the advertiser, and you, the consumer, both know that the conditions under which this price applies are so onerous and unlikely that you can count on paying more than this.  Our lawyers insisted that we put this * in to avoid legal exposure caused by anyone who actually believes that this price has meaning.”

I also pay way more attention than I should to advertising slogans partly because I am aware that the advertiser has paid an agency maybe millions of dollars for their ideas and for the air time and they come up with things like these actual advertising slogans from the 1950s: “Ivory Soap: 99 and 44 100th percent pure,” or “It floats.”  Cigarettes: “LSMFT – Lucky Strike means fine tobacco.”  Morton’s Salt: “When it rains it pours.”  That’s it?  Do these things mean anything?  The message I get is that they have no real value proposition or way to differentiate themselves from the competition, so they are saying something that is literally true, but makes no difference.  Are we supposed to make the mental leap that other brands of cigarettes do not use fine tobacco? By the way, does “fine” mean high quality or finely ground? 

Then there are advertisements for products like gasoline or detergents that say that there are “none better.”  That of course leaves the possibility (the literal probability) that there are several competing products that do equally well – just none that do better.  What about products that say they do “more” or “better”, but they never say more or better than what!  The implication is that they do more or better than their competition, but they are not saying that. (They probably would be sued or fined if they did).  I remember when Avis started advertising, “We are #2, but we try harder.”  Harder than who or what?  The implication, again, is that they try harder than whoever is #1 (and we all knew that Hertz was #1).  But of course they wouldn’t say that.  The targets of the advertising (us) brought our own assumptions to questions like: #1 or #2 as measured by what? In what way does Avis try harder?  Is it noticeable?  Does it benefit me?  Oh, the curse of having a literal mind!

Young people have never been bombarded with television ads encouraging them to smoke and drink.  In my day, TV presented these glamorous women and macho men enjoying their cigarettes and recommending that we do the same.  Smoking was made to seem not only acceptable, but highly desirable.  It was the same with whiskey.  These wealthy-looking, intelligent-looking, sophisticated-looking men and women made the drinking of hard liquor seem like a really smart thing to do.  The scene was as far away as possible from the image of the wino waking up in the gutter, which is where whiskey will lead some people.  In the 1950s and 1960s, cigarette brands were frequently sponsors of television programs that ran in prime time. One of the most famous television jingles of the era came from an advertisement for Winston cigarettes. The slogan "Winston tastes good like a cigarette should!" proved to be catchy. Another popular slogan from the 1960s was "Us Tareyton smokers would rather fight than switch!" which was used to advertise Tareyton cigarettes.

America's first regular television news program, Camel News Caravan, was sponsored by Camel Cigarettes and featured an ashtray on the desk in front of the newscaster and the Camel logo behind him. The show ran from 1949 to 1956. The ban on liquor advertisements is actually a voluntary ban by the major TV networks and their local affiliates.  Industry watchdogs are still saying that it would be a mistake to start treating distilled drinks as just another commodity to be sold on-screen, since they have a greater concentration of alcohol than beer or wine and pack a stronger punch. But we are seeing more and more exceptions creep in, such as for Jack Daniels Whiskey, Bailey’s Irish Cream, and Seagram products. 

There were about 250 “men” in boot camp with me in Fort Dix, New Jersey, in the fall of 1961 and winter of 1962. I say “men” because that is what they called us, but we looked and felt so young it was almost laughable.  I am very proud of the fact that I had the highest score in the PT (physical training) test among the 250 or so, and also that I earned the expert badge in the light machine gun.  In 2012 (fifty years later), I placed the PT high score trophy on Justin’s dresser in High River.  The expert badge seems to have disappeared. 

Looking back, I see that I won these things by listening to the instructors, understanding and internalizing what they were saying, mentally rehearsing my performances and, perhaps most importantly, not knowing that I couldn’t do it.  I never understood why others did not do the same thing.  I didn’t have the common sense to realize that most of them did not have the mental ability to do so.  It never occurred to me that maybe my high school guidance counselors were right, even after I learned that my IQ score had come in at 132 (not genius, by any means, but considered “gifted”).  Among that group of 250 young men, none of whom would have been considered college material, an IQ score of 132 may have been the highest.


Just to show off for a minute, I recall that there was a lengthy policy or regulation posted on the wall, and for some reason I bragged to one or two of the guys in my immediate bunk area that I could probably memorize the posting in a few minutes and recite it from memory.  They challenged me, and I did it.  They were amazed.  I can still do that, although I am generally too lazy to go to the effort.  I do not have a photographic memory, by any means.  I have to put my mind to it.  Just a few Christmas’ back I wanted to demonstrate to Brianna what our minds are capable of, so we read “The Night Before Christmas” together and I told her that on Christmas Eve I would recite the entire poem from memory.  I did that, and I think her Dad, Jim, was even more impressed than she was.

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