Chip's Quips
A tiny spark of wit for a highly flammable world

Chipping the web: January 30th

January 31st, 2009 6:00:47 am pst by Sterling Camden

Chipping the web

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Chipping the web: January 29th

January 30th, 2009 6:00:03 am pst by Sterling Camden

Chipping the web

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Chipping the web: January 28th

January 29th, 2009 7:00:09 am pst by Sterling Camden

Chipping the web

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Chipping the web: January 27th

January 28th, 2009 6:01:00 am pst by Sterling Camden

Chipping the web

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Chipping the web: January 26th

January 27th, 2009 6:00:32 am pst by Sterling Camden

Chipping the web

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Newspaper obituary

January 26th, 2009 2:07:25 pm pst by Sterling Camden

Seth Godin asked, “When newspapers are gone, what will you miss?“  Then he proceeded to dismiss the missing of everything about newspapers from content to delivery mechanisms, because the web does it all better.  You know what I’m going to miss?  A twelve-year-old’s only chance for a regular job: delivering the paper door to door.

My neighbor Phillip was getting tired of delivering the paper.  He paid me 50 cents to take his place for a day, and he even let me use his bicycle.  It was a Schwynn with high rise handlebars and a sissy bar, very much in style at the time.  My bike, on the other hand, was a Frankenstein’s monster that my Dad constructed out of parts from two bikes that had belonged to my mother and her sister — so besides being big and ugly, it was also a girl’s bike.  Man, I sure had fun riding Phillip’s new Schwynn all over the neighborhood that day!

When I told Phillip how much I had enjoyed delivering the papers, he asked me if I wanted to take over the route for good.  I checked with my parents, and they said I could — but I wouldn’t be able to use a bike.  They didn’t like the idea of me riding on US 29 (a four lane highway) with cars going 60 mph.  I’d have to do it on foot.  Phillip countered with how much money I could make — he collected more than $5 a week from customers!  I had rarely seen $5 all at the same time, so I agreed.  I discovered later that I hadn’t fully grasped the distinction between gross receipts and net income.  It hadn’t occurred to me that I would have to pay for the papers I delivered (albeit wholesale).  So $5 a week gross yielded only about a dollar net per month, if I could get everyone to pay on time.  It was obvious to me that I needed more customers.

My father had delivered newspapers in Queens, New York back in the early ’50s — and he had lots of advice on growing the business.

“The most important thing is Service with a Smile, Son,” he said.  “Don’t throw the paper at the house — walk up to the door and leave it inside the screen” (most houses had screen or storm doors back then).  “Always smile, wave, and say hello when you see your customers.  And don’t let them see you walking — run from house to house.  Impress them with your efforts.  Always collect on the same day of the week, so they don’t have an excuse for not having the money.  Once every couple of weeks or so, buy an extra paper – then go up to one of the houses that isn’t on your route and ring the doorbell.  Tell them that you have an extra copy that you’d like for them to have, free of charge.”  I got quite a few new customers that way.

These strategies eventually grew my route from the ten daily customers Phillip had (with only two Sunday deliveries) up to 24 dailies, with most of them receiving the Sunday paper as well.  This was in rural Virginia, so those customers were spread out over a four mile round trip.  Running that every day improved my health significantly, and led to later successes on the track team.

My money management skills being somewhat derelict, my mother took on the role of Chief Financial Officer of the business.  Times were often tight for us then, and my parents regularly borrowed from my profits to pay the bills.  But my Dad kept track of the amount owed, and when I was 18 he paid me back in full: $360, which I used to finance a trip to visit my college of choice.

I ran the paper route for a total of about four years, until I was sixteen.  It wasn’t much money for all that effort.  But it was a great lesson in business, and excellent exercise to boot.  That’s the part of the newspaper business that I’ll miss.

Actually, I miss it already — everyone I see delivering papers nowadays is an adult, driving a car (that’s got to cut into the profits).  The distribution areas are too large to do it on foot anymore, or even on a bike.  And the dangers for children out on the open road are too great to ignore these days.  The archetypal ”my first job” has already faded into the mists of our memories.  Today’s youth no longer have this opportunity to learn the value of working hard to build a business.

I guess they’ll have to become web entrepreneurs instead.

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Chipping the web: January 26th

January 26th, 2009 10:00:34 am pst by Sterling Camden

Chipping the web

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Chipping the web: January 22nd

January 22nd, 2009 11:01:10 am pst by Sterling Camden

Chipping the web

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Chipping the web: January 21st

January 21st, 2009 12:01:57 pm pst by Sterling Camden

Chipping the web

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Thoughts on MLK day

January 19th, 2009 5:24:17 pm pst by Sterling Camden

This morning we watched CNN’s airing of Dr. Martin Luther King’s 1963 speech at the Lincoln Memorial, popularly known as “I Have a Dream”.  CNN replayed the entire speech at noon Eastern time, which was 9AM here.

The children are off school for the MLK holiday, so I explained to our son that we would be watching this famous speech.  I don’t know what the public schools teach about this particular slice of history, but apparently none of it sunk in.  How would I briefly explain the significance of King’s life to a child who has never witnessed racial discrimination?

When I was a child in southern Virginia, almost everything was still segregated.  Not only the schools, but also the eating establishments and the churches were either black or white.  One bar at the edge of town was considered progressive because it had separate sections for both races.  About the only thing we shared were our surnames.  Probably more black people than white in our county bore my mother’s maiden name – because from the time of the revolution until the Civil War her family owned large tracts of land in that region, and they had many slaves whose families kept their last name even after they were freed.

My great-grandmother (whom we called “Nana”) told me about living on one of those family farms as a young girl in the late 1800′s.  Many of the former slave families still lived there, too — working the farm for their food, clothing and shelter.  Economically it was no different than slavery, except for the fact that they could leave if they wanted to.  But children have a way of simplifying relationships until grown-ups complicate them, so a little black girl that was her age became her best friend.  Nana always told me that there was really no difference between white and “colored” (the less objectionable term in those days).  “We’re all just people, and many a white person is just as bad or worse than any colored folk.”

My great-grandfather on my mother’s side fought for the Confederacy.  He was over 50 when he fathered my grandfather in 1890.  When my grandfather died in 1968, he was laid out in our church for the funeral service.  Along with the others attending came Mr. Callands.  The Callandses lived just up the road from my grandparent’s house, and Mr. Callands and my grandfather (who was called Joe) were great friends.  “I didn’t think Joe would mind if I came,” said Mr. Callands.  I believe he may have been the first black person ever to set foot inside that church since it was founded in 1800. 

That was just several months after Dr. King had been killed in Memphis.  Our school system had already taken tentative steps towards integration, swapping only a few students and teachers, some of whom received threats of harm.  But a couple of years later, full integration proceeded without any major incident.  I remember how strange it was to meet all these black children my age — some of them got on the school bus not far from my house, and I hadn’t even known that they existed before.  Yes, at first there was mistrustfulness — but it wasn’t long before friendships began to develop.

But my children don’t like to listen to any of my old stories, so I tried a different approach.

“Martin Luther King told people that they shouldn’t hate each other just because they’re different.  They should get along together and treat each other the same.”

“He sounds like the best person ever!” my son replied.

“I don’t know if he was the best person ever,” I replied, “but he was right about that.”

Posted in Get a Grip, Tempus fugit | 6 Comments » RSS 2.0