by Ted Sherman

Created on: March 01, 2010

My first job was stuffing mattresses. It was actually the first time I worked for pay as a civilian, because I had just spent two World War II years in the Navy. I had been an anti-aircraft crew member on a troop transport, and I knew there were few civilian jobs that required those skills.

Anyhow, I needed a temporary job, because as soon as I was discharged from the Navy in May, I enrolled in college as a GI Bill student. My dilemma was: what could I do all summer until classes started in September? When I first began looking, I always admitted I wanted a temporary job. That got me nowhere, so then I told interviewers with as much sincerity as I could muster that I was looking for a permanent job. Finally, I saw a newspaper want ad that offered a job with the magical words: potential for promotion to management.

Hey, that was for me! Didn't I work myself up from boot camp recruit to first-class petty officer by age 19, and manage a bunch of guys on gun mounts? And didn't we manage to shoot down several Kamikaze bombers that were attacking our ship during the Okinawa campaign? I was now a grown-up age 20, and ready for all the management challenges the job entailed.

When I got the call to come in for an interview, I knew I could ace the job, no matter how difficult the management tasks were. However, when I saw the building, it was nothing like the Wall Street high-rise I had expected. It was on an alley in a seedy part of town, but I found my way in, hoping the inside would be a bit more businesslike. What I saw was a large, dusty warehouse with about a hundred guys stuffing mattresses.

I coughed my way through the thick cotton dust in the air to the office, and listened to the boss make his offer. It was only 90 cents an hour to start, he explained, but if I worked real hard, I could do better. In fact, four of his best men had recently been promoted and were now making a dollar twenty an hour. He said it took real skill to poke those little holes in the sides of the mattresses and sew in metal grommets. Maybe, if I applied myself for six months or a year, he promised, I could learn to do that advanced job.

I had arrived at the warehouse in my new civilian suit for the interview, but the boss said I could start working right away. So, I took off my coat and tie and pitched in. I worked very hard, and by the time noon arrived, I and my cotton-filled lungs were grateful to be able to go out into the fresh air to a local beanery for lunch. I never went back, and to this day, I regret that I lost the $2.70 in pay for my one morning's work.   

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