Smokey's and Tests of Integrity (Kid Stuff)

The streamlet swirled a cobalt black as it bisected the small forest meadow.  Laying calm amongst the green pastures it lingered as if basking in God's presence before resuming its hurried destiny along its rocky pathway a mere stone's throw further downstream.  Mighty Douglas Fir rose from the perimeter straight arrow into the mountain air only to part high above and declare homage to heaven cloaked in purest blue.  Each tree immovable.  Each tree towering at strict attention as though standing guard over this place - a place that only the mind of God could imagine, much less create.  

Now maybe it was the quiet tranquility of the moment or perhaps the hypnotic movement of the water that forced the mind to slow and recall times most cherished.  Possibly the crisp, thin air rejuvenated the mind and triggered thoughts long dormant.  Maybe it was the simple fact that the trout weren't biting.  But for whatever reason, my brother-in-law David interrupted the solitude and an anamnesis of my own:

"I remember my first dinner with your family.  It seemed really strange because in my family everyone talks and nobody listens.  But here I was sitting with all of you and it hit me that in your family everyone listens but nobody talks."

The reminiscence was shared and knowing smiles exchanged.  Then the quiet resumed and the fish upstream were offered the opportunity to mock us.

Dave recollected that dinner revelation with me any number of times over the years.  Even now I can't speak to the accuracy of Dave's comment in regards to his family, but I can say that he was pretty much spot on when it came to mine.  As a very young boy I would climb into the passenger seat of the family Chevy and Dad would turn the key.  No seat belts in those days.  And off we went with nary a word spoken for somewhat of a ritual - the Saturday morning haircut.  Our destination was simply known as Smokey's.  

Smokey was both a man and an institution.  First off, Smokey was called Smokey because the instances were rare when he didn't have a cigarette dangling from his mouth.  I think he had a personal competition with himself to see how long he could get burnt ashes to hang on the end of the cigarette before they all fell on the floor.  Either that or he needed two hands to cut hair and there was too much going on to use an ash tray.  The concept of secondhand smoke had yet to be discovered.  Retired Navy, I feel certain that he had a tattoo on the inside of his left forearm but for the life of me my mind can't see it.  When he adjusted my position or the angle of my head his hands were always firm yet kind, as were his eyes.  Regardless any of that, Dad always said that he was the best barber in town.  

Smokey's two-chair shop resided in a single room on the side of his house residence.  There was a separate entrance for customers.  A gum-ball machine resided on the inside next to the door and the outside of the building was complete with a rotating helix of red, white, and blue stripes.  That barber pole was magical.  How did those stripes continue to move up the canister?  Where did they come from? Where did they go?  Next to the door was a big, bay view window with the words SMOKEY'S Barbershop hand painted on the glass in big red letters.

It was our tradition that I would go first for my haircut and then Dad would get his.  Scrambling off the "booster seat" (a board laid across the two arm rests of the massive, red barber chair), I would usually meet Dad as he was getting up from the waiting bench and ask him for a penny to buy a gum-ball.  Like clockwork, he would dig into a pocket, give me a smile, and hand me the coin.

One time, I went over to the machine, dropped the penny in the slot and turned the chrome plated dial.  The brightly colored gum-balls in the glass container above all shimmied and moved imperceptibly lower as I heard my gum-ball drop to the dispenser below.  I always wondered what color it would be.  But this day, when the metal cap to the dispenser was lifted I was surprised to find not one gum-ball but two.  Well, the innocence of youth is a wonderful thing.  Something instinctive told me that I should take only what I paid for and without a second thought I took the first ball and left the second one in the dispenser.  Back to the bench I went, quite content.  A short time later, another father and son came in for their haircuts, and as fate would have it, that boy put his penny in the gum-ball machine as I had minutes before.  When he found two gum-balls he was quite happy and told his Dad in excited tones for all to hear.  I must say that I may have felt my first twinges of buyer's remorse right then and there when I heard that one of the balls was cherry red.

As I clambered into the Chevy for the ride home, Dad was already seated behind the wheel.  There was a brief instant of bewilderment when he didn't start the car right up.  Instead, he turned and asked:  "There were two gum-balls in the machine when you put your money in, weren't there?"

"Yes." I replied as my mind raced to understand how he could possibly know.

"You did the right thing.  I'm proud of you."  And with that, on we went with nary a word spoken. 

Some four decades thereafter found me firmly in the grip of corporate America.  Having worked for the same company for fourteen years, the grass looked greener at an office just uptown.  Tedium was taking a toll but midnight on-call was the real culprit.  My friend and co-worker Kandy had recently resigned and gone to work at the new concern.  So, I gave Kandy a couple weeks to settle in and then gave her a call to see what she thought of her new employer.  She gave a glowing review filled with terms such as "hiring like crazy", "wonderful benefits", "their new project is a perfect fit", and "great place to work".  But at the end of our conversation as she realized I was hooked, she added almost as an afterthought: "Oh.....right up front in the interview process they'll give you an Integrity Test.  You'll do great.....just don't do too good.  Like telling a lie.  If you say you have never lied, are you lying now?"

A few days later I found myself sitting across the table from a lady in the Human Resources Department.  Her demeanor was beyond cordial and she too used the terms "perfect fit" and "wonderful benefits" as she perused my resume.  Then just as Kandy had promised, she handed me the Integrity Test - two pages of maybe 20 questions related to ethics with multiple choice answers following each.  The first two questions blew right by as one of the options presented was obviously better than the others.  But question #3 struck a cord:

3)    You go to buy a candy bar in a vending machine and find that the one you want is already in the               dispenser.  What would you do?

a) Shake the machine violently to see if more will fall out.

b) Take the candy that is already in the dispenser.

c) Buy a second candy with your money and leave the first.  

d) Call the vending machine company and report a malfunction. 

At the time I was pretty sure that the best answer, the expected answer, was (b).  There is no doubt in my mind about that today.  Nevertheless, perhaps you can understand why I answered (c).  Then came another question regarding the taking of company pencils although one of my many lovable quirks is that I only use pens.  Followed by something about punching in late on the time clock although I had been salaried for the past twenty years.  No - question #3 set the tone if not my fate.  When the Human Resources lady returned from grading my test, her manner had gone stern and I was summarily dispatched out the door......"We'll give you a call if a position opens up."  No doubt the woman feared that she had stumbled across a modern day Flambeau.

Six decades plus have flowed past much too rapidly since those bi-weekly trips to Smokey's.  There have been tests of many flavors during that span but those involving integrity are the most enduring.  I hesitate to report that I've failed my fair share.  Sadly, that moment standing in front of Smokey's gum-ball machine may have been my finest hour.  Nonetheless, lessons have been learned.

The spoken word matters.  Every word possesses consequence which may manifest itself years later.  But only if the words are not merely heard but truly listened upon.  The unspoken word, the implied meaning(s) may be equally consequential but all too often they are negated by the listener's own silent bias resulting in an inference unintended.  Finally, our society has somehow learned to speak and listen within the context of good/bad when issues involving integrity need to be examined within the framework of right/wrong.