As he stood there in his crisp white button-up shirt and pointed cap with matching orange-striped apron, Jimmy knew he was going to be fired. Sweat beaded on his temple. The ice cream scoop slipped from his trembling hand and clanged to the floor. He adjusted his orange necktie, which had suddenly tightened, and walked toward the mob of angry customers. Is my first day gonna be my last?
At fifteen years old, Jimmy hadn’t done much more than mow neighborhood lawns and run a brief paper route. Sure, he’d reshelved canned goods and helped with deliveries at the corner store over Christmas break. But this was different. This was a real job with a uniform and everything. And what’s more, he’d have to serve people. Real people. Adults, too.
Old man Otis had noticed Jimmy’s hard work stocking the back rooms of his store. Jimmy had noticed him noticing. He hadn’t really thought anything of it. He’s probably just missing his son since the war. So, when Otis asked Jimmy on full-time as a soda jerk, Jimmy had no words. He just stood there.
“Well, boy. Wha’d’ya think?”
“Uhhhh … yeah.” Jimmy stammered finally.
“Good. You start tomorrow. Be here at 8am.”
“Yuh yuh, yes sir.”
Jimmy parked his bike near the back entrance at 7:58 the next morning. Phew, just in time. Otis opened the back door.
“Good. You made it on time. That’s a good start. Come on.”
Otis took Jimmy through the hallway and showed him how to clock in before giving him a nickel tour of the soda shop’s back rooms. He showed him the employee restroom, the stockroom, and the break room. He talked him through the day’s operations, not giving Jimmy any room to ask questions or make even so much as a head nod. By the time he finished, it was only 8:15, but with all the new information swimming in Jimmy’s head, it felt more like noon.
“Jack will be here in about half an hour. He’ll be takin’ orders and managin’ the register today. You’ll be at the counter. You can scoop ice cream and make sandwiches and coffee, can’t ya?”
“Sh-sh-sh-sure,” Jimmy stammered.
“Of course you can.” Otis slapped Jimmy’s back. Jimmy stumbled forward from the force. “Well, let’s get goin’!”
Jimmy followed Otis to the end of the hall and out into the front store. Otis buzzed around flicking on all the shop lights and machines. Jimmy just stood in amazement. The shop was beautiful. He’d been by before, of course, on his way home from school, but he wasn’t allowed to stop in. He’d never had money for frivolities—he was saving for college. To be on the inside felt like stepping into a Norman Rockwell painting. Actually, he’d just seen such a picture thumbing through the latest issue of Time while waiting for his mother to finish her shift at the beauty parlor. This soda shop looked quite like that one. How about that! The chrome malt mixers and syrup rails gleamed. The scalloped glass sundae cups glistened. The air was cold and sugary.
Jimmy breathed it in.
“Don’t just stand there, boy!” Otis’s voice made Jimmy jolt. “Put your apron and hat on and acquaint yourself with the back bar area. Jack’ll show you the ropes.”
He waved a hand and Jimmy turned to see another boy, who seemed to be just a couple years older, standing in the hallway behind him.
“Jack, this is Jimmy. He’s going to help out this summer. I’ll open shop in ten minutes, boys.”
“Yes, sir,” Jack replied with a nod.
Otis went up the stairs to the left of the register to his office.
“Hey, Jimmy.” Jack finished tying his apron strings and popped on his hat. He held out his hand. “I’m Jack. Nice to meet ya.” His handshake was firmer than Jimmy’s.
“Uh, hi. Nice to … meet you, too.” Jimmy put his hand behind his back and wiggled his fingers to loosen them up out of Jack’s sight.
“You ever work at a soda shop before?”
“Nuh uh, no.” Jimmy shook his head.
“Oh, well, it’s a cinch! You’ll get the hang of it in no time. Just ask if you need anything.” Jack grabbed his pad and pencil near the register.
The first hour was pretty slow. The boys only had a handful of customers who ordered simple things—coffee, orange juice, toast, and one cheese sandwich, which Jimmy thought odd for 10:00 in the morning, but what did he know? He had once eaten a pickle for breakfast. Who was he to judge?
Jack had made the first batch of coffee while Jimmy was busy stocking shelves, but it was starting to run low.
“Hey, can you start another batch of coffee, Jimmy?”
“Oh, uh, sure.”
“It’s gonna pick up here pretty soon the closer we get to lunch.” Jack wiped down the counter.
“Ok.”
So far the pace had been comfortable. The thought of a lunch rush tightened Jimmy’s chest a bit. Still, he wasn’t alone. Jack was there. Jack was confident. Jack would help if something went wrong.
Jimmy took the coffee pot and rinsed it out in the sink. He didn’t think he was supposed to use sink water to make the coffee, so he took it over to the soda fountain where there was a handle labeled “water.” He put the pot under the spout and pulled the lever. He thought the bubbles in the water were funny, but maybe it made sense they were there. The fountain water must just be more purified. He poured the bubbly water into the coffee machine reservoir, filled the coffee filter with ground coffee, and flipped the “on” switch. The machine purred. Jimmy smiled, relieved.
The bell above the shop door dinged and with it came the lunch rush.
Jack took order after order. Jimmy made two ham and cheese sandwiches and a chocolate malt. Ding! Ding! The boys couldn’t tell the register bell from the door bell for all the ringing. Sodas, sundaes, and sandwiches. And then coffee. Cup after cup. The boys were flying to keep up pace. All of Jack’s coffee had been served, and the customers began asking for refills. When the delivery boy came in from the back door and motioned for help, Jack stepped back from the register.
“I’ll go get that,” said Jack. “We’re expecting a big delivery today, but don’t worry, I’ll be back in a flash!”
Balancing two plates, Jimmy panted but smiled. He was getting the hang of it. Maybe this job would be alright after all. Besides, Jack would be right back. What could go wrong “in a flash”? Jimmy started refilling the customers mugs with the coffee he made. His confidence was building.
And then it happened.
Crash!
Jimmy looked up and saw a customer in a double-breasted suit spit out his coffee, wipe his wet chin, and glare down at the broken coffee mug on the floor.
“This coffee is terrible!” yelled the man.
“So is mine!” echoed a woman in a pillbox hat.
One after the other, the customers who had ordered coffee grimaced and sputtered, each slamming down their coffee cups onto their saucers. The clinking and clanging echoed through the entire store. They all rose from their seats and approached the counter in front of Jimmy.
“Who made this coffee?”said a man with a mob of customers behind him.
Jimmy’s face flushed. His heart pounded in his hot ears.
“It was YOU, wasn’t it, boy?” the man pointed at Jimmy.
“Yes, it was! This young man tried to poison us!” echoed the woman.
Jimmy tried to speak. “Uh … I … I …” But he didn’t know what to say.
“I want a refund, young man!” said another man.
“Yes! A refund!” said another. They all demanded their money back.
Jimmy didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t just open the register and repay their dimes without asking Otis first, and he was ashamed to ask Jack. His hands went numb. He dropped the ice cream scoop. Reached to loosen his necktie. It was his first day, and it was going to be his last. They need their money back. He fiddled around in his pockets for dimes to repay them, but his hands came out empty.
“Well, what have you to say for yourself, young man?”
“Are you going to give us our money back?”
“Where is your manager?”
Jimmy hung his head. He was done for.
Clink!
Something hit the marble countertop.
Jimmy looked up and saw Otis standing between him and the customers with his hand down on the counter. It was covering something. He lifted it up to reveal a quarter.
“My apologies, ladies and gentlemen,” said Otis. “This here coffee machine goes on the fritz sometimes. Guess I should’ve serviced it sooner. Please accept a quarter as refund for the coffee plus inconvenience.”
One by one the customers accepted their quarters and sat back down.
Jimmy watched helplessly as Otis discreetly dipped a finger into the coffee pot and touched it to his tongue, then dumped the liquid in the sink. “I … I don’t know what happened …”
Otis snorted. “I do.” He tipped his head toward the faucet. “Tap water.” Then toward the soda fountain. “Soda water.”
Jimmy’s face flushed, and he dropped his head. What a dope! I’m done for.
But Otis put his hand on Jimmy’s shoulder and said something Jimmy did not expect. “The first mistake doesn’t count.” He squeezed Jimmy’s shoulder and then walked off and back up to his office.
Otis lost money that day. But that’s the only thing that was lost. Jimmy kept his job.
Every summer, Jimmy kept his eyes peeled for a boy like he had been before he met Otis. And every summer when each new soda jerk messed up on his first day by scooping the wrong ice cream flavor or giving back incorrect change or making bad coffee, Jimmy would put his hand on his shoulder and say something he didn’t expect: “The first mistake doesn’t count.”
The featured image, “Brambleberries Holywell Cemetery,” is courtesy of Lancia E. Smith and is used with her glad permission for Cultivating.
Melody Trowell is a wife, mother, published children’s book author and poet, college professor, and amateur
gardener. She holds degrees in English and Linguistics and has taught middle school, high school, and college
English since 2004. During her time as a stay-at-home mom, she built a small business doing photography and
sewing children’s clothing and goods. She and her husband live in Texas with their three children in a little home
with big bookshelves and even bigger ideas. She has been writing stories and poetry since childhood and believes
language is one of God’s most beautiful gifts. Her desire is to show others how childlike faith and wonder lift the
veil between the spiritual and physical realms to help them see the evidence of Christ and His creation. Find her
online at www.melodytrowell.com.
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