My mother received a telephone call from a woman who owned a neighborhood grocery store. They talked for a period of time and my ears perked up when I heard my mother say, “I believe Adele would be happy to help you out."

I was thirteen years old and was excited to think I might get a real job. I was to meet Mrs. Jones (not her real name) the following day at her store to discuss what the job involved and how much money I would be making if I accepted the position.


Mrs. Jones had just recently been in a car accident and had broken her collar bone. She and her husband and two children lived in the back of the grocery store. She needed someone to help with housework and the care of her children. After talking with her, I felt I was up to the challenge and accepted the position for twenty-five cents an hour.

Now Mrs. Jones was not what you call a pleasant person. I realized that she was going through a trying time, and I tried to be very nice to her. We sat in her kitchen and she began to explain to me what she wanted done. I was to do the dishes and put them away. I was to fix the children’s lunches when they were home. I was to clean the house and pick up after the children. I was to put laundry away, make up the beds, and change sheets weekly. She led me through her home and showed me where everything was.

My first task was to do her dishes. There were quite a few piled up by the sink. She began to tell me about the china she had. The dishes were a present from a friend and she decided to use them every day. She explained that not one of the dishes had been broken since she began using them and to be very careful when I washed them. I carefully started washing her china, with her watching every move I made. There wasn’t much room on the counter-top, so I decided to pile the dishes I had so carefully washed and dried. To this day I don’t know how it happened, but I somehow knocked them over and down they went on the floor! The sound of breaking china was loud. Mrs. Jones was in a state of shock as I frantically tried to pick up the pieces. How I felt cannot be described. My first job, my first task, was a total failure. I knew I was going to be fired and I would have to go home and tell my mother. Of course, I repeatedly told Mrs. Jones how terribly sorry I was and that I would pay for the damage I had done. I don’t remember her saying anything for some time. Finally she curtly instructed me to get the broom and dust pan and to make sure that all the glass was off the kitchen floor. Now that task I knew how to do without doing damage to anything, and I quickly and adequately swept the floor.

I couldn’t believe that Mrs. Jones didn’t fire me. In the weeks that followed she became quite a mentor to me. Now my mother showed me very early in my life how to clean a house, but Mrs. Jones went a step farther. She showed me how to make square corners when changing sheets. She showed me how important it was to move every piece of furniture when cleaning the house, mopping behind everything and wiping down the baseboards. She had a place for everything and taught me the importance of organization. If you didn’t do as she asked, she would let you know by hollering at you. Despite Mrs. Jones’ disagreeable temperament I appreciated her.

I remember the time when she left instructions for me to open a can of vegetable soup for the children. Her request was to give them soup with milk. I fixed the soup, using a can of water, and gave the children a glass of milk. Somehow, I believe one of the children told her, she found out that I didn’t mix the soup with milk. Can you believe that even today, every time I open a can of vegetable soup, I think about how the soup would taste if I mixed it with milk instead of water.

Mrs. Jones made a deal with me. She said that if I did a good job for her, dismissing the broken dishes episode, she would hire me to work in the store when I got older. That was exciting for me. I shall tell you what happened in my next little story.