My dad had a mechanical mind. I assuredly did not. So, the only thing he taught me as a kid about auto mechanics was to hold the flashlight for him while he adjusted the timing of the spark plugs…or something. And I was of little use at that meager job, apparently, because it seemed that the beam was seldom pointed at the right spot, which I was reminded of often. Thus my distaste for all things auto mechanical. But I am, at least to this day, handy with a flashlight.
When I was within the acceptable age of corporal punishment, my dad could strike fear after I misbehaved. He used only two words to signal my fate. “Turn around!” That meant only one thing. A spanking. But Dad was never abusive with his punishments. A firm, somewhat temporarily painful but harmless swat on the pants-padded butt with his hand followed by, “Let that be a lesson to you!” was enough to teach me a lesson.
He, apparently, had learned his own lesson about how not to discipline a child from his own dad – by doing the opposite. His dad was physically abusive and had a terrible temper. My dad used to tell the story of how he and his big brother snuck out of bed one Christmas Eve to catch Santa in the act.
“Santa” caught them, chased them to their room, and beat Dad’s big brother. Dad said he didn’t really know why only his brother and not he got beat. But suffice it to say, he never physically abused us. He could be intimidating to be sure, but he deeply loved us and showed it in many ways. Which may explain why I never wanted to disappoint him. But I did disappoint him when I went off to college.
My freshman year was a massive paradigm shift for me. I’d gone from a structured high school and home environment, where accountability and attendance were expected, to a college environment where professors did not take attendance, there was no mandatory bedtime, but there were endless distractions from studying. At the end of the first quarter my grades, which were sent to my parents, unmasked my folly. Along with my grades, which were an astoundingly dismal 2.0, came a letter from the dean stating that if my grades did not improve, I would be disinvited to the party that was college. Okay, the dean didn’t call it a party, but it was to me. Except now I would have to mix study with fun to remain at the party.
When I went home for Christmas break my dad called me into his office to let me know in no uncertain terms that the free room, board, and tuition would be drying up at the end of the next quarter if my grades didn’t improve. I was lazy my freshman year in college, but I was no fool. My grades did improve.
I met my future wife Jeannie at college at the beginning of my sophomore year. That was an additional incentive to “get my poop in a group” regarding my grades. During the summer after my sophomore year, we were still dating. She was living at home in Ohio. I was living with my parents in Indiana while I worked construction for a man named Kenny Ford. It was my practice at the end of the work week, Friday afternoon, to jump in my 1965 Oldsmobile and drive like a bat outta hell breaking numerous speed laws to get to West Liberty, Ohio in record-breaking time. A minute not spent with Jeannie was a minute wasted in my book. Then, Sunday evening, I would beat it back to Indiana in time for a bit of sleep before Monday morning work.
One Sunday evening I decided to skip work the next day to stay in Ohio all day Monday just so I could spend more time with Jeannie. At least I had the decency to let my parents know that I wouldn’t be home Sunday night, at which point my dad informed me that Kenny, my employer, was counting on me and I would, in fact, be at work promptly Monday morning. I got up very early Monday morning, jumped in the Olds, broke several more speed limit laws, and went straight to work. It was a valuable lesson in responsibility that served me well.
Throughout my 40 year career in broadcasting and executive leadership and later as an entertainer and public speaker, I never forgot that lesson that was wrapped up in one invaluable maxim: Never take for granted those who rely on you for your services. Give them the value they are paying for…and more.
Doing that one thing will help light the way as you travel your career path.
Rod Robison is an Arizona based mentalist, magician, author and speaker who helps companies and organizations throughout Arizona and beyond create unforgettable events for their employees and clients. Visit www.TucsonMentalist.com
