Don't Bet On It

I helped close and lock up the Kroger store at Peachtree and 8th. Streets in Atlanta on Saturday night of the Fourth of July weekend the year John F. Kennedy was running for President of the United States. I got the job as a grocery sacker when my buddy Luther was promoted to produce clerk. I had all the right qualifications. First in line with my application because of insider knowledge that the job was even coming vacant, I was 16 years old and willing to work for 52-cents an hour, almost half the legal minimum wage. Many shoppers tipped “sack boys” just for loading the groceries into the car. When elderly ladies walked to the store, you carried their groceries all the way home for them, and they snapped open coin purses to dig around for a dime. I worked part-time, five hours on Friday till closing, then all day Saturday. My paycheck each week averaged just over $5, after taxes. I usually matched or doubled that amount in tips. The checkout Queen Bees cashed my paychecks and exchanged my nickels, dimes, quarters, and occasional half-dollar for folding money. Because of the busy holiday shopping crowd, I had more than $25 in my pocket that July Fourth, the most money I had ever earned or even seen at one time.

Four of us from the grocery store, headed over to Luther’s. He lived on Juniper, less than a block away. His mother was out of town for the weekend. I had told my mother I was spending the night at Luther’s, neglecting some of the details. Joining us was A. J., the senior sack boy, and the other produce clerk, Mark, age 19. None of us was old enough to get our hands on beer, but Luther said his mother would never miss a few shots from her liquor closet. We brought sodas and chips from the store, as well as two brand new decks of cards. I had played penny-ante card games after school since I was 12, draw poker, deuces and one-eyed- jacks wild, seven card stud, blackjack, dealer’s choice. I liked blackjack when it was my turn to deal. I could count to 21 and had developed a belief in luck smiling at me more often than not. Luther, A.J., Mark, and I played cards till dawn. I lost $25 and change. The next week Mark showed up at work wearing a new pair of Thom Mccanns. Shiny as dancing shoes. Probably cost $75.

I swore off gambling, the way some people swear off alcohol or other things that will get them in trouble. Never again. I’ve never been to the casinos of Las Vegas, Atlantic City, the Gulf Coast, Mississippi River, or Native American Reservations. I have never bought a lottery ticket, no matter how big the jackpot. Two different companies I have worked for awarded me stock bonuses, and I sold the stock immediately. I also cashed out my 401K’s the day I turned 59-and-one-half and could do so without tax penalty. I am not offering any financial advice. I am just telling what I did. Most people won’t tell you, even if you ask. Maybe they’ll say something they read somewhere or some salesman said. Someone at the workout center recently volunteered, “I came into this world with nothing, and I’ve still got some of it.” The stock market dropped like a rock down a hollow hole the day Congress voted against the current $700-billion bailout for Wall Street or Main Street in search of the sunny side of the street. Then Congress voted for the bailout. Stocks dropped some more. I have considered it a sure thing that I would never agree with Alabama Republican Senator Richard Shelby and two-thirds of the members of the House GOP caucus. Good money after bad. Don’t bet on it.

Copyright 2008 by William C. Cotter