My First Real Boss
Photo Credit: Michael Coghlan, Flickr Creative Commons

My First Real Boss

While there’s plenty of venting about poor leadership skills and awful bosses, I was fortunate that my very first “real” boss (someone I wasn’t related to) at age sixteen was not one of those. Instead, R.H. proved to be one of the best individuals that I ever worked for.

R.H. was (may still be, although he’d be getting on in years) a framing carpenter, specializing in residential builds and remodels out on Eastern Long Island. He didn’t necessarily have the patience of a truly artistic finish carpenter, but when it came to framing, he was rock solid and highly efficient.

While I initially wanted to work for R.H. when I turned 13, NY State Law did not allow that, so for my first 3 working summers I was employed doing handyman work by my family. Ever pragmatic, I had been taught certain skills from the age of 7, and was expected to learn to “work with my hands” and develop accountability and responsibility from a young age.

Working with R.H. took those skills to another level. I’ve always loved the smell of freshly cut wood, and the ability to envision and create something through an investment and application of skills. R.H. was an imposing man, well over 6 feet tall with enormous biceps and a rangy build and bushy moustache that reminded me of a western gunfighter. The Army must have thought the same; when R.H. was drafted, they made him an MP, probably figuring even drunken soldiers might think twice before taking him on in a fight.

He loved telling the story about how he nearly killed his drill instructor and several other soldiers during training; he was "uncomfortable" with the M79 grenade launcher (the “Blooper” or “Thumper”), which resembles an oversized break-action shotgun and fires a 40mm grenade. Now one of the fortunate designs on this particular weapons system is that the grenade needs to spin a certain number of revolutions to arm, and thus has a minimum distance for employment. R.H. was nervous handling the weapon, and despite repeated instructions, when he fired the live round over a barricade intended to provide some blast protection, he didn’t aim high enough and the grenade hit the top of the barrier, changing its intended trajectory and sending it careening directly overhead what should have been a “safe” position. Everyone ran for their lives, and miraculously, the grenade dropped harmlessly to the ground. Apparently, when it pinged off of the barricade, the necessary spin was interrupted, and the round tumbled straight upwards and the fuse never armed.

R.H., as you may infer, was a patient teacher, and unless provoked, a gentle giant, and the two summers that I was able to work for him were challenging and rewarding. For the most part, I lost my fear of heights – working on sloped roofs and walking on beams 20 or 30 feet off the ground with a sharpened straight claw framing hammer the only real means to self-arrest if one started falling (pretty much the same technique used with an ice axe in mountaineering) tends to do that. My hands blistered, and then calloused and hardened. I learned what it meant to keep to a schedule, and that with the right leverage, two of us (R.H. and myself) could really move a steel I-beam that others had said wasn’t possible to do. And as an added bonus, I learned to drive a manual transmission, cutting my teeth on a fully kitted out ? ton Ram pickup. R.H. wasn’t too worried about me stalling it out in traffic. As he pointed out, “What kind of idiot would want to hit us?”

Much as I wanted to work for R.H. in my 18th summer following high school graduation, before starting college, he had teamed up with a new business partner and they had agreed that they would initially take on jobs without a crew, so I took my skills and “Get it done” ethic to work in a boatyard. It wasn’t until I was 21 that I actually held an office job interning for a then quite famous (or infamous, depending on certain people’s perspective) Hollywood producer, between junior and senior years of my undergraduate education. But that’s another story for a different time.

Years later, I still look back on that time in my life with fondness, and I still love the smell of freshly cut timber. 


Photo Credit: Michael Coghlan, Flickr Creative Commons

Alan Culler

Author: Writer of stories about consulting, leading, and living wisely and songs about joy and woe

2 年

Jonathan First jobs and first bosses have a huge impact. From a morning paper route at 11 I learned that 4;30 am is not my ideal start time. From caddy camp at 13 and 14 I observed that their were people in the world who had more money than I dreamed of and learned the basics of customer service. At 15 I was a counter waiter at Howard Johnson's the first job I got myself. There I learned more about customer service and tips, but really learned the value a a good group of coworkers, a team that supported each other. From my father and projects around our house I learned what I know of carpentry, which helped me in tech theatre in college and I still love the smell of fresh cut lumber and carved hardwood.

Melinda Arnson, MBA

Manager, Ferris Printing Services at Ferris State University

6 年

This was a great read.? Reminds my of my Grandfather.? He came from literally nothing.? His mother passed when he was young &they lost their house so G-G loaded up the boys in a wagon and walked 15-20 miles into 'town' where they found lodgings in an unused chicken house.? This was during the great depression.? He had to proceed carefully because if any found out he was a single father with children, the county would take the children away.? Grandfather used to tell me about walking a long ways to work each day.? They'd pick berries to eat and have milk someone would let them get from a cow and that was their food.? Grandfather had a curious way of eating and I later understood it was due to being without much food as a youngster.? Fast forward to when I grew up close with him.? He was a residential builder of great respect in the community.? His houses still stand.? He was a perfectionist and had trouble dealing with people who didn't want to pick up and work.? He worked hard and long.? My father (Grandfather's son-in-law)? worked for him doing everything but specialized in finish work and things like tile.? Between my Dad,? Grandfather and my Mother,? I think that's where I get the hard work ethic and perfectionism from.

thom h. boehm

chicken whisperer?voice-in-the-wilderness?the thinking man's circular knitting machine mechanic

6 年

My first real boss was Cal Los.? I got the job in junior high at "The Corral" restaurant, first as a busboy at 13 working for cash under the table, and then the next year working as a short-order cook at 14!? Anyway.? This was in Grand Rapids, Mi, and we had Pine Rest, a mental hospital, just down the road from us.? Many patients would come in and have coffee, and at times customers would complain. Cal was always patient, understanding, and accommodating to them when they came to the restaurant.? As a first boss, I will always remember him for his patience, kindness, and willingness to possibly lose a little revenue in order to do what was right.

Thomas Jackson

Speak Truth to Power

6 年

Early jobs can build a foundation and purpose. It makes me wonder if you worked for Rutger Hauer. Keeping with the Blade Runner motif: Harrison Ford was a carpenter and a pretty good one before becoming an iconic actor.

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