Published: July 27, 2007 03:19 pm         

In me-first, win-at-all-cost world, respect, courtesy often seem forgotten

Long before Wal-Mart, there were small discount store chains in the land. One was based in Altoona, Pa., operating its stores as Tri-State Discount Center. One of those was located at 917 Gay St., a structure in the news recently as a possible site for residential development into loft apartments.

I began working at Tri-State Discount Center following my June 6, 1966, graduation from LaSalle High School. I graduated without honors in that ceremony held at Allegany High School. However, I did make the honor roll five out of six times, thus earning me an academic letter "L" - an achievement typically reserved in those days for our stellar athletes.

With the help of my cousin Glenn Rice, who already worked at Tri-State, I landed my first job, part time and minimum wage, but it looked promising to me. It was my first employment after my eight-year newspaper route career that ended with my high school graduation.

For me, the retail business was exciting from the beginning - working with people from various backgrounds and learning the fundamentals of retail operation ranging from checking in freight to checking out customers. Working the cash register, stocking shelves, setting up floor displays, and altering inventories with the change of seasons was simple and fun.

Eventually, I became a manager trainee. We dressed semiformal with sport coat, shirt and tie to present a professional appearance like the store managers. Sport coats were in plentiful supply since that had been part of the dress code for my four years at LaSalle High at the corner of North Centre and Hanover streets.

My workdays at Tri-State included a lot of work in the basement out of the view of the public, unloading freight trucks at the loading dock and pricing merchandise before taking it to the sales floor. Regular shipments of Quaker State oil, oil-additive STP, peat moss, fertilizer, 33 1/3 rpm records, and 12-by-12 and 12-by-15-foot carpets were routine deliveries. The freight truck drivers were lively and memorable for their gruff demeanor or easy laugh. They unloaded the trucks and I don't recall any of them ever complaining. Working with enthusiasm and a smile set a good example for an impressionable 18-year-old's first venture into the work force.

Huge volumes of merchandise flowed through the building week after week. We inventoried the entire store annually. It was a tedious task involving all the employees, hand-counting every item in each department.

My most enjoyable aspect of the department store operation was interacting with all the different personalities. They were colorful, confident individuals that were kind and considerate of one another. If a worker had a difference with someone, I didn't know about it.

Managers and assistant managers worked hard - as did all the other employees - and they were held accountable to corporate headquarters. They were respectful toward one another and to their employees, as well as customers, many of whom were known by their first names. These secure, comfortable, happy guys with strong backs that would roll up their sleeves and unload the tractor-trailers right with you. The ladies who worked there were classy, stylish hard workers who took pride in their jobs. Oftentimes, they wore skirts or dresses to work.

I worked at Tri-State Discount for four years and loved it. I made good money, had a good time, and grew as a person. Some of my co-workers included Bob and Tom Tomlinson, Raymond Nixon, Chuck Perry, Wayne Duckett, John Shirey, Bob Gross, Dick Kight, Lollie Winters, Betty Jean Stewart, Helen Bradshaw, Eileen Akers, Donna Parker, Tom Valentine, Donna Mellott, Billie Rosser, Ethel Milburn, Dick MacDonald, Marg Dixon, Jim Walters and custodian Tony Aquallo ... and many more whose names I regretfully cannot recall.

Every month the store featured "circular sales." Circulars were inserts included in the Times-News editions for three-day sales featuring "door busters" and hot dogs for a nickel. Various items sold at unusually low prices would, to no surprise, draw big crowds. And when the doors were opened at 9 a.m., a steady stream of customers rumbled the store's wooden floors, winding their way like a herd of cattle to the second floor where the hot items were typically placed next to the hardware department.

One memorable sale item was the 20-gallon galvanized garbage can. Month after month. It was a real hit and shameless people would go to extremes to snag one of the shiny cans for a mere 99 cents. I once saw two people fighting over the last can - one holding the metal container, the other clutching to the lid. The outcome I do not know since I exited before sparks began to fly.

Those special sales brought customers to the checkout counter non-stop for hours at a time. I remember working eight hours straight during one of the bargain bonanzas before finally getting a break.

With a constant background of pre-recorded Muzak throughout the building, the store was lively and usually crowded. Occasionally, local radio personality Dusty Shaver worked the public address system to pump sales. Everybody loved Dusty ("Jump, jump, jump to Gulick's"). Sometimes the sales created traffic jams outside the massive, two-story brick building located not far from the Rolling Mill ball field just off Maryland Avenue.

Looking back at my early years in the business world, I cherish my memories of the people whose life paths crossed briefly with my own. Forging and cultivating relationships, communicating, growing up, and learning from self-respecting, working-class people served me well.

Undoubtedly, such wholesome business environments still exist. But the day is different. Respect and courtesy seem rare. People can be nasty, hard and mean-spirited and think nothing of it. Some appear to be compassion-challenged. Aggressive driving is common.

So in a me-first, win-at-all-cost world, the person with a mind toward others stands out. It's all right to be kind. It's OK to say thanks.

There once was a time when people took time for one another. It's still not too late.

Jeffrey Alderton can be reached at jlalderton@times-news.com.