by David Duncan

Created on: June 21, 2009

Often, the people who have an incredible impact on your life cross your path when you are most in need of inspiration. It was January, 1980. I was unemployed and living in a new town with my fiance, Renee. After two months of searching for a job as an auto body technician, I was desperate to take any work until I could find work in my chosen field.

One day, while walking downtown, I saw an ad for help in a local restaurant window. The place was called, Tinkler's Restaurant. As I walked into the restaurant, I thought about the week I spent working as a waiter at our hometown church's fair stand. I hesitated for a moment. Whatever the position was, I knew it was going to be hard work and long hours on my feet. But, at this point, I feared being unemployed more than any nightmares I could conjure up from my past about working in the our church's food stand.

I was warmly greeted by a host and handed a menu. I politely refused the menu, but asked if I could get an application. He smiled and walked back toward the kitchen. I stood there for a few minutes, admiring the beautiful interior design of the place. Before it was a restaurant, it served as one of the town's most prominent banks.

The place had been gutted to remove office cubicles and counters. But, what had been left was hand-carved wood railings, decorative glass, a flowing staircase to the second floor dining area, and the original bank vault. With the addition of long, hanging ceiling fans over the bar, a few potted palm trees, tall-back wooden booths, and nostalgic photos, this place look like a scene from the movie, Casablanca.

I was shaken out of my trance by catching a glance of the host returning with my application. He escorted me over to a corner booth near the kitchen. Before I could finish the application, I tall, graying man stepped around the corner and approached my booth. Hi, I'm Rich Davy, the owner. Can I get you something to drink? he said, reaching out his hand. With about a dollar in change in my pocket, I suddenly felt cheap and embarrassed. Still, I decided to accept. Sure, a coke would be fine, I replied, hoping I wasn't going to have to work it off.

He returned with the soda and sat down across from me. He sat quietly until I finished the application. I handed it to him. He quickly glanced over it, then sat it aside. He looked up at me, asking, So, when can you start work? A bit startled by his response, I took a moment to think about what he asked me. The answer had been

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