Let's see if I can string a few magic moments together and make a wee story ... this is one of several related posts so advance apologies for any unnecessary redundancies ... just scroll right past them!
Daddy told me more than once "Some people could make a good living selling ice to Eskimos in the Arctic Circle ... you'd starve to death trying to sell refrigerators on the Equator"
With such such sage advice, why would I want to do something crazy like open up a fancy home furnishing center in a small town?
Well, Mama always said "Bobby, you'll never know what you can't do unless you try" ... guess I wanted to prove both of them right ... and I did!
Years later, Miss Carol came up with the real answer ... "Mister Bobby, you're a crazy person!!"
Well, regardless of the reason for doing it, we did
... and though it might have been better done, we gave it our best and were proud of what we did!
The first salesperson we hired was named Mildred, recognized by most everyone in town as its best Interior Decorator ... Miss Mildred was a spinster. She had her own successful business and a rather large following. She explained that Father Time was catching up with her and that the rigors of running a business like her's had become too much ... she wanted to slow down a bit, a change of pace, she said.
"I thought it might be nice if I could help you kids get started ... help with the buying, and sell some too, mostly working with my current clients", she offered. It sounded a bit too good to be true, but we eagerly agreed with the understanding that her involvement in the buying would be limited to assisting with the accessories and under my wife's control ... "fine by me" ... so we agreed to a six month trial run.
She was a Godsend ... most of those visiting the store during the first two weeks were clients or former clients of hers and a great help to Ann, when she made her first trips to the Furniture Mart in Atlanta ... as expected, Miss Mildred sure seemed to knew her way around the Mart ... especially the parts devoted to accessories and introduced her to many of the right people too.
Too good to be true? Well, I guess it's a matter of perspective ... we were lucky to have her in those early days, a familiar face for folks and someone who knew the ropes to help Ann but to my way of thinking, Miss Mildred had two fatal flaws ... one first surfaced during her third trip to Atlanta ... at least that was the first time it was really noticed. It seemed like her open mind had long ago closed and was now frozen shut. Her attitude was that she knew what was best for clients, and us too! She was an experienced professional while we were rookies, just learning the game. Well intended perhaps, but she was too assertive and it became increasingly apparent that in her mind, there was only one way ... her way!
We appreciated her input but not her increasing assertiveness ... and Ann went along with some of her "suggestions" on that trip, but she wasn't happy ... 
"I know you like her but that woman is driving me crazy ... she's not interested in what we're trying to do, it's her way or no way! I bet she'd try to put her favorite lamp in every grouping we had if we gave her half a chance. 
I bought some of the stuff she wanted but she doesn't know real quality when it's staring her in the face ... wanted to buy junk and cheap prints to go with our Henredon. I showed her ... bought two oils and an oriental rug, and then we were outta there!"
Ann was right, she didn't understand what we were about. It was as if she had anticipated that everyone would unquestionably accept and implement all of her ideas and suggestions and when that wasn't happening, she became increasingly assertive so as to assure it did!
"My guess is that Miss Mildred could have found the perfect Mercury for you, a nice well equipped Marquis or a cool little Cougar, probably better than most anyone else ... get you a sweetheart deal too, her focus was on price.
Well, Miss Mildred, what about the Lincoln Continental or maybe that new Mark III folks are talking about? I understand they're Ford's Finest and really think they'd be better for us! 
"No, you don't want a Lincoln, the Mercury is well made, looks good, runs nice and costs a lot less! You'll find them in all my clients' garages ... ask them!"
No, Miss Mildred just didn't understand ... one couple, customers who came in specifically to buy a certain oil, were shocked and complained that she tried to influence them not to buy the painting ... "Fox has several prints that look just as good ... you can't tell the difference, and for a lot less money!"
Like I said, her reputation as the town's best preceded her and had we been looking, it revealed that second and truly fatal flaw.
Everyone had said the same thing "She's great! You can go into any of her clients' homes and somehow just know Miss Mildred did the decorating, she's special!" Had we noticed that flaw, there probably would have been no story. To me, the good Interior Decorator is one whose work reflects their client and leaves no evidence of the decorator's hand, She may have been a nice lady with good taste who could charm her clients, but not a good Interior Decorator, and not one I would have selected to work at Regency Galleries.
A deal's a deal, but when the run was over, everybody seemed glad Miss Mildred's Regency Galleries Days were at an end, perhaps most especially Miss Mildred.
She had come to us, but we knew that if we wanted to attract good people, we needed a good benefit package, including life and health insurance, paid sick days and paid annual vacations ... our insurance agent was Charles Brown of New York Life, whose father worked many years for my father ... Charlie was mild mannered, very professional, sympathetic and had a great sense of humor. We became good friends ... golfing buddies.
He came by one day, all perplexed ... his company wanted him to take on a partner. He thought it might cost him his job if he refused, his business and professional reputation if he agreed!
It seems that several months before, he had hired a young man from a prominent family in hopes of gaining better access to the town's wealthy and influential country club crowd, being he wasn't himself yet a member. It started off well, the fellow went through the company's training ans easily got his license.
Unfortunately, he turned out to be almost all form and no substance, learned the music, 
but couldn't carry a tune ... Charlie called him a "putz!" He drew a salary during the first six months and they had many lunches at the Club ... seemed everybody knew and liked him.
The end of his six months was just about over and the young man's efforts had produced no sales though he kept insisting that he was doing just fine ... Charlie felt otherwise and completed the paperwork, required for termination. He suggested lunch at the Club, where he would let him down gently when he broke the news.
As they were being seated, a friend spotted them and called the young man over "Hey Jon, come over here, I want you to meet somebody!" Charlie said he was thankful for the interruption as he could use the time to decide exactly what he was going to say ... before long, the young fellow was back.
"Let's eat, lunch is on me!" ... handing Charlie an envelope as he did.
The envelope contained a completed life insurance application for a $250,000 Twenty Pay Life policy on a 50 year old man, and a blank check made payable to New York Life!
Charlie said his head was spinning and he was almost afraid to ask for an explanation of what happened but he did ... "well, I don't rightly know. When I got to the table Bill introduced, me and said the man needed some insurance ... some kind of business deal I think, anyway, he wants another policy for his partner and I'm going to meet him tomorrow, if that's okay. Turned out he knew my father, it's a small world."
Charlie was dumbfounded buy managed to ask "but, your supplies are back in the office, where did you get the application?" ... "Oh, I always carry one in my breast pocket, just in case ... never needed one until now. He wanted to pay an annual premium but I didn't have my ratebook so he gave me a blank check"
Needless to say, he didn't get fired that day ... and three months later, they wanted Charlie to add the "putz" as a partner!
Charlie was a pretty good golfer, about a six handicap, and we enjoyed an occasional round. but one time early on, 
before I really knew him well, he had a round of 100.
He pared the first two holes but on the third, a short par 3, his tee shot wound up in a bunker, buried! His next shot caught the bunker's lip and the ball rolled back, ending almost exactly in its originating spot. When his third shot remained in the bunker, he saw red and whiffed ... then he started beating the ball with his club, three, maybe four times. It was a sight to behold as he tried to get his emotions under control and finish the hole, but that's exactly what he did!
During his ordeal, I said nothing, out of fear for my safety. When he finally putted out, I managed a one word question "score?" ... he responded with a one word answer "twenty-seven" ... he had counted every stroke! I recorded his score and we went to the next tee.
The rest of the round wasn't noteworthy, what was done was did. Driving home, he ventured, "that was one hell of a sandtrap, thought I was never going to get out!" but that was all that was ever said. He had a had a good sense of humor and loved to tell that story on himself, usually when recommending me as a golfing partner ... or asking others to join us "Nothing fazes Bob, he just asked for my score, and we went to the next hole as if nothing had happened" he'd say with grin.
In addition an insurance agent and salespeople, we found we also needed someone to take care of our warehouse, accept incoming freight, handle the deliveries and maintenance activities. We naturally wanted my long time friend Little Joe, but he had those same duties working for my uncles and we were surprised when he volunteered for the job!
Maybe it had something to to with the fact that Little Joe was black ... he often warned me about my behavior around black people, concerned that I might get into trouble, carrying on, telling them ethnic stories, jokes and such ... "Mister Bobby, you know White boys shouldn't do that, it's plum dangerous," he'd say. "It's okay, Little Joe, they all know I'm colorblind! ... to which he'd usually say, "Oh Mister Bobby, I'm so sorry." ... like I said, we were good friends!
In addition to being a good and trusted friend, Joe was a good, trusted and reliable employee, always on time, worked late, never missed a day, and never complained ... six months after he joined us, we gave him a raise but I wanted to do more... 
so I gave presented him with his own personalized cards, with the title of "Building Manager" and made him an officer of Regency Galleries, Inc. ... but, bis duties and responsibilities remained totally unchanged.
Come Tuesday, Little Joe had Monday's off ... something strange happened, without any notification, he was missing in action! This was not like like Joe and I was worried, but we wasn't at home and we couldn't reach him. The same thing Tuesday and Wednesday, but on Thursday, I received a call from his brother James, a Major in the army "Bob, I think we have a problem!"
James went on to tell me that Joe's promotion has bothered him to distraction ... he knew he could the work, but the added responsibility of being an officer with a title was more of a burden than he could bear. 
James said he probably made matters worse by teasing that Joe had to become a gentleman too, like him. Joe and his mother had driven down to Macon, south of Atlanta and met with her old spiritual advisor, who said Joe had "the vapors" as a result of a spell he put on himself. She told them the only solution was to quit his job or refuse the promotion.
James said Joe didn't want to quit his job but he didn't want to refuse the promotion either because we were friends and I wanted him to have it! The problem was tossed back into my lap ... I contacted Little Joe, apologized and said that I was sorry but due to a foul up with the paperwork, we couldn't process the promotion and it would have to be postponed until the next year's board annual meeting, sometime next Spring.
He was back next day, bright and early!
Daddy told me more than once "Some people could make a good living selling ice to Eskimos in the Arctic Circle ... you'd starve to death trying to sell refrigerators on the Equator"
With such such sage advice, why would I want to do something crazy like open up a fancy home furnishing center in a small town?
Well, Mama always said "Bobby, you'll never know what you can't do unless you try" ... guess I wanted to prove both of them right ... and I did!
Years later, Miss Carol came up with the real answer ... "Mister Bobby, you're a crazy person!!"
Well, regardless of the reason for doing it, we did... and though it might have been better done, we gave it our best and were proud of what we did!
The first salesperson we hired was named Mildred, recognized by most everyone in town as its best Interior Decorator ... Miss Mildred was a spinster. She had her own successful business and a rather large following. She explained that Father Time was catching up with her and that the rigors of running a business like her's had become too much ... she wanted to slow down a bit, a change of pace, she said.
"I thought it might be nice if I could help you kids get started ... help with the buying, and sell some too, mostly working with my current clients", she offered. It sounded a bit too good to be true, but we eagerly agreed with the understanding that her involvement in the buying would be limited to assisting with the accessories and under my wife's control ... "fine by me" ... so we agreed to a six month trial run.
She was a Godsend ... most of those visiting the store during the first two weeks were clients or former clients of hers and a great help to Ann, when she made her first trips to the Furniture Mart in Atlanta ... as expected, Miss Mildred sure seemed to knew her way around the Mart ... especially the parts devoted to accessories and introduced her to many of the right people too.
Too good to be true? Well, I guess it's a matter of perspective ... we were lucky to have her in those early days, a familiar face for folks and someone who knew the ropes to help Ann but to my way of thinking, Miss Mildred had two fatal flaws ... one first surfaced during her third trip to Atlanta ... at least that was the first time it was really noticed. It seemed like her open mind had long ago closed and was now frozen shut. Her attitude was that she knew what was best for clients, and us too! She was an experienced professional while we were rookies, just learning the game. Well intended perhaps, but she was too assertive and it became increasingly apparent that in her mind, there was only one way ... her way!
We appreciated her input but not her increasing assertiveness ... and Ann went along with some of her "suggestions" on that trip, but she wasn't happy ... "I know you like her but that woman is driving me crazy ... she's not interested in what we're trying to do, it's her way or no way! I bet she'd try to put her favorite lamp in every grouping we had if we gave her half a chance.
I bought some of the stuff she wanted but she doesn't know real quality when it's staring her in the face ... wanted to buy junk and cheap prints to go with our Henredon. I showed her ... bought two oils and an oriental rug, and then we were outta there!"
Ann was right, she didn't understand what we were about. It was as if she had anticipated that everyone would unquestionably accept and implement all of her ideas and suggestions and when that wasn't happening, she became increasingly assertive so as to assure it did!
"My guess is that Miss Mildred could have found the perfect Mercury for you, a nice well equipped Marquis or a cool little Cougar, probably better than most anyone else ... get you a sweetheart deal too, her focus was on price.
Well, Miss Mildred, what about the Lincoln Continental or maybe that new Mark III folks are talking about? I understand they're Ford's Finest and really think they'd be better for us!
"No, you don't want a Lincoln, the Mercury is well made, looks good, runs nice and costs a lot less! You'll find them in all my clients' garages ... ask them!"
No, Miss Mildred just didn't understand ... one couple, customers who came in specifically to buy a certain oil, were shocked and complained that she tried to influence them not to buy the painting ... "Fox has several prints that look just as good ... you can't tell the difference, and for a lot less money!"
Like I said, her reputation as the town's best preceded her and had we been looking, it revealed that second and truly fatal flaw.
Everyone had said the same thing "She's great! You can go into any of her clients' homes and somehow just know Miss Mildred did the decorating, she's special!" Had we noticed that flaw, there probably would have been no story. To me, the good Interior Decorator is one whose work reflects their client and leaves no evidence of the decorator's hand, She may have been a nice lady with good taste who could charm her clients, but not a good Interior Decorator, and not one I would have selected to work at Regency Galleries.
A deal's a deal, but when the run was over, everybody seemed glad Miss Mildred's Regency Galleries Days were at an end, perhaps most especially Miss Mildred.
She had come to us, but we knew that if we wanted to attract good people, we needed a good benefit package, including life and health insurance, paid sick days and paid annual vacations ... our insurance agent was Charles Brown of New York Life, whose father worked many years for my father ... Charlie was mild mannered, very professional, sympathetic and had a great sense of humor. We became good friends ... golfing buddies.
He came by one day, all perplexed ... his company wanted him to take on a partner. He thought it might cost him his job if he refused, his business and professional reputation if he agreed!
It seems that several months before, he had hired a young man from a prominent family in hopes of gaining better access to the town's wealthy and influential country club crowd, being he wasn't himself yet a member. It started off well, the fellow went through the company's training ans easily got his license.
Unfortunately, he turned out to be almost all form and no substance, learned the music, but couldn't carry a tune ... Charlie called him a "putz!" He drew a salary during the first six months and they had many lunches at the Club ... seemed everybody knew and liked him.
The end of his six months was just about over and the young man's efforts had produced no sales though he kept insisting that he was doing just fine ... Charlie felt otherwise and completed the paperwork, required for termination. He suggested lunch at the Club, where he would let him down gently when he broke the news.
As they were being seated, a friend spotted them and called the young man over "Hey Jon, come over here, I want you to meet somebody!" Charlie said he was thankful for the interruption as he could use the time to decide exactly what he was going to say ... before long, the young fellow was back.
"Let's eat, lunch is on me!" ... handing Charlie an envelope as he did.
The envelope contained a completed life insurance application for a $250,000 Twenty Pay Life policy on a 50 year old man, and a blank check made payable to New York Life!
Charlie said his head was spinning and he was almost afraid to ask for an explanation of what happened but he did ... "well, I don't rightly know. When I got to the table Bill introduced, me and said the man needed some insurance ... some kind of business deal I think, anyway, he wants another policy for his partner and I'm going to meet him tomorrow, if that's okay. Turned out he knew my father, it's a small world."
Charlie was dumbfounded buy managed to ask "but, your supplies are back in the office, where did you get the application?" ... "Oh, I always carry one in my breast pocket, just in case ... never needed one until now. He wanted to pay an annual premium but I didn't have my ratebook so he gave me a blank check"
Needless to say, he didn't get fired that day ... and three months later, they wanted Charlie to add the "putz" as a partner!
Charlie was a pretty good golfer, about a six handicap, and we enjoyed an occasional round. but one time early on, before I really knew him well, he had a round of 100.
He pared the first two holes but on the third, a short par 3, his tee shot wound up in a bunker, buried! His next shot caught the bunker's lip and the ball rolled back, ending almost exactly in its originating spot. When his third shot remained in the bunker, he saw red and whiffed ... then he started beating the ball with his club, three, maybe four times. It was a sight to behold as he tried to get his emotions under control and finish the hole, but that's exactly what he did!
During his ordeal, I said nothing, out of fear for my safety. When he finally putted out, I managed a one word question "score?" ... he responded with a one word answer "twenty-seven" ... he had counted every stroke! I recorded his score and we went to the next tee.
The rest of the round wasn't noteworthy, what was done was did. Driving home, he ventured, "that was one hell of a sandtrap, thought I was never going to get out!" but that was all that was ever said. He had a had a good sense of humor and loved to tell that story on himself, usually when recommending me as a golfing partner ... or asking others to join us "Nothing fazes Bob, he just asked for my score, and we went to the next hole as if nothing had happened" he'd say with grin.
In addition an insurance agent and salespeople, we found we also needed someone to take care of our warehouse, accept incoming freight, handle the deliveries and maintenance activities. We naturally wanted my long time friend Little Joe, but he had those same duties working for my uncles and we were surprised when he volunteered for the job!
Maybe it had something to to with the fact that Little Joe was black ... he often warned me about my behavior around black people, concerned that I might get into trouble, carrying on, telling them ethnic stories, jokes and such ... "Mister Bobby, you know White boys shouldn't do that, it's plum dangerous," he'd say. "It's okay, Little Joe, they all know I'm colorblind! ... to which he'd usually say, "Oh Mister Bobby, I'm so sorry." ... like I said, we were good friends!
In addition to being a good and trusted friend, Joe was a good, trusted and reliable employee, always on time, worked late, never missed a day, and never complained ... six months after he joined us, we gave him a raise but I wanted to do more... so I gave presented him with his own personalized cards, with the title of "Building Manager" and made him an officer of Regency Galleries, Inc. ... but, bis duties and responsibilities remained totally unchanged.
Come Tuesday, Little Joe had Monday's off ... something strange happened, without any notification, he was missing in action! This was not like like Joe and I was worried, but we wasn't at home and we couldn't reach him. The same thing Tuesday and Wednesday, but on Thursday, I received a call from his brother James, a Major in the army "Bob, I think we have a problem!"
James went on to tell me that Joe's promotion has bothered him to distraction ... he knew he could the work, but the added responsibility of being an officer with a title was more of a burden than he could bear. James said he probably made matters worse by teasing that Joe had to become a gentleman too, like him. Joe and his mother had driven down to Macon, south of Atlanta and met with her old spiritual advisor, who said Joe had "the vapors" as a result of a spell he put on himself. She told them the only solution was to quit his job or refuse the promotion.
James said Joe didn't want to quit his job but he didn't want to refuse the promotion either because we were friends and I wanted him to have it! The problem was tossed back into my lap ... I contacted Little Joe, apologized and said that I was sorry but due to a foul up with the paperwork, we couldn't process the promotion and it would have to be postponed until the next year's board annual meeting, sometime next Spring.
He was back next day, bright and early! 
The Old Barbershop's archives are loaded with Magic Moment stories what done been writen ... my guess is that not many have read them all!
In addition to those housed in the "Magic Moment's" Archive, Mohammad has done went to the mountain and come back with a selection of some of his favorite "Magic Moment" stories that are archived elsewhere ... in other Special Feature locations and in the main Shop. One click and you'll be taken there, wherever it might be!