As a very young child, I recall hearing the phrase \u201cDo what you love\u201d. Growing up in the 70\u2019s, my generation had the notion work shouldn\u2019t be \u2018hard\u2019. If you do the kind of work you love, it won\u2019t be drudgery. That\u2019s a great idea, but let\u2019s be real: How many of us are doing something we love to earn a living? If everyone had the career of their dreams, who would flip burgers, dig ditches, or clean up nuclear contamination? Most of the jobs I had in the past were closer to nightmares. Probably the best example is the cable installer job, which ended the evening I crawled under a trailer and put my hand down on a nice, large, warm, soft dog turd. There wasn\u2019t a lot of personal satisfaction in that line of work. Of course, I could tell myself \u2018You are helping people stay connected\u2019 to boost my self-esteem but it wasn\u2019t enough to make me feel as if I was making a positive difference in the world, especially after the dog turd incident. Somewhere, there was a person who would love that cable installers\u2019 job, in spite of the dog turds, homeowners wielding butcher knives, and hoarders\u2019 houses. I decided to let that someone have the job.<\/p>\n

Several years ago, I began a job as a teacher at a proprietary vocational school (such as ITT Tech, but not as reputable). Rewards were replete. Seeing the light of understanding in the eyes of someone who was all but paralyzed by fear of failure \u2013 it was the greatest self-esteem builder of my life. It nurtured me in a way that a paycheck can\u2019t and I will never forget those years. I was making a difference at that job. The results of my work were clear to see.<\/p>\n

This brings me to my current job, operating Wisethrift.com, or Artifacts. Before I got into this line of work, I had stopped expecting to make a difference. I thought money was the only satisfaction I would get in the Antique Glassware and Collectibles field. Instead of making a difference, I tried to placate myself by believing I was saving bits of history from the garbage dump, saving our tangible past for future generations to appreciate. That was a nice, warm feeling but it didn\u2019t compare to teaching until one day last summer.<\/p>\n

<\/a>I was awakened by a phone call one morning, shortly after we moved into this townhouse in \u2018the hood\u2019. An articulate, excited gentleman was on the line. I will refer to the caller as \u2018Ron\u2019.\u00a0 He lived in the St. Louis area and he was excited about a pair of tiny tea cups I had listed for sale on wisethrift.com. The cups bore the logo for GM&O Railroad (Gulf, Mobile, and Ohio), which used to run through the St. Louis area. They were demitasse size or possibly from a child\u2019s tea set. I assume they were sold as souvenirs by the railroad company. They probably held less than 4 ounces. Ron wanted to be reassured that I still had the cups and he could buy them.<\/p>\n

Down to the basement I went to search through 40 or more cartons. Fortunately, it didn\u2019t take long to find them. After placing them in a nice little box with packing paper, I called the customer and gave him directions to come pick them up. When he came to get the cups, he told me why he wanted the cups so urgently. His father worked for the GM&O and recalled that time on the railroad with fondness. The father was in his 90\u2019s, frail and in poor health. Ron expected his father would die soon, so he set about doing his best to make his fathers\u2019 last days joyful. Ron told me that his father would drink his morning coffee from one of these cups and enjoy the pleasant memories it brought him. He said it was also providence that there were 2 cups because \u2018dad\u2019s hands were a bit shaky\u2019.<\/p>\n

After he told me this, I added, \u201cYou can tell your dad you bought these cups from the daughter of another railroad man.” That should make his eyes twinkle even more. It was a bit spooky, this serendipitous meeting. My dad worked for Southern Railway for over 40 years<\/p>\n

When Ron arrived, he shook my hand warmly, once \u2013 twice \u2013 three times, maybe more. He thanked me profusely as though I had done something wonderful. I wasn\u2019t expecting that kind of emotional reward for simply buying some cups and listing them on the internet. It never occurred to me that something I had listed for sale could have that kind of positive impact on the buyer. If Ron had shook my hand one more time, I think I would\u2019ve started crying.<\/p>\n

I had no more doubt after that day. I knew I had done something small that made a difference for one railroad man and his son. Sometimes it’s the little things we do, without thinking about their consequences or effect on others. I think my Dad would’ve liked this story. Here’s an old song he liked, it was played at his funeral.<\/p>\n