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> Holiday Story > ----------------- > > In the tradition of the Dilbert Newsletter, I include my holiday story with > no attempt at humor. > > Between the ages of twelve and fifteen I earned money by shoveling snow > during the frigid winter months in Windham, New York. My best customers > were a retired Greek couple -- Mr. and Mrs. Amanatides -- who lived half a > mile from my house. The standing agreement was that on any morning after a > snowfall I would arrive at their house at 6 a.m. and shovel the sidewalk > prior to Mr. Amanatides' morning walk to town. > > This was no small task for a 95-pound kid. It was challenge enough to > reach their house through the snow. Usually the roads weren't plowed yet, > so I'd take the back way, often crawling through waist-high snowdrifts. > I'd be exhausted before the shoveling even began. > > As sidewalks go, this was a big job. The Amanatides' walkway went around > the entire perimeter of the house and included a patio area and several > sets of steps. I was instructed to shovel four inches past the edge of the > sidewalk on each side to allow for proper drainage when the snow melted. I > had to shovel like a crazed beaver to finish in time for school. After > school, I would return and do the driveway. > > It was hard work, but it paid embarrassingly well. At a time when five > dollars would have been fair pay for an hour of work, Mr. Amanatides > volunteered twenty. I was so uncomfortable with that amount that one day I > decided to convince him to pay me less. I didn't mind the hard work, but I > couldn't bear taking so much money from this nice man. > > Normally we didn't talk much. I was always in a hurry and he was a man of > few words. Maybe that's why I remember the conversation so well. > > After the shoveling was done, I tried my reverse-negotiating technique. I > insisted he pay me less from now on. Mr. Amanatides did a quick read on > the situation and told me to put my shovel down and listen. He explained > his thinking in simple terms, distilled from seventy years of living. When > he was done, I thanked him for the money and never brought up the topic > again. > > Mr. Amanatides passed away some years ago. He didn't get to see that his > overpaid snow-shoveler turned out okay. Although he's gone physically, he > bought a bit of immortality that cold winter morning, when he looked at the > skinny kid from Windham and told him something that many people never hear > in their lives. He said, in his thick Greek accent, "You're worth it." > > This holiday season, make yourself immortal. Let someone know how much > they're worth. You'll be surprised how long they remember it. > > Thanks to all of you for making this a great year for me. Have a great > holiday and a great 1999.