I walked out to where me and other guy would be working and sat atop a mound of soil that I had created the week before. I was fuming and just sat there in the early morning August sun, silent. The guy was working and he sensed my agitation, introduced himself, and asked what was wrong. We talked for a few minutes, but I didn’t really have much to say. I had no plan, and no prospects, and I was not only being cheated, but also taken advantage of. I had nothing. Knowing this I carried on for a few more days, and earned back the time to pay for the sessions, and earn enough time for another session, but the elderly southern gentleman, while old, was no dummy and quite an astute conniver. He knew I had no prospects and he kept sticking me up and holding the training hostage. It was starting to feel like indentured servitude, and pretty soon I would owe him more than he owed me according to his relative method of accounting.

After another couple weeks of this routine and horrific training, I had enough. I walked out of the training and into the office of the elderly southern gentleman. I didn’t know what I would say, or do, because I was young, and Detroit was a small town. Word in the A/V business could travel fast. I collected myself the best I could, and told him that I would be discontinuing the training. He gave me a lot of trouble, told me that he had set aside a place for me, and all this and that. I told him, that I would have to respectfully decline. I also told him that by my estimate he owed $50 and that I wanted to square up. He told me that he didn’t have any money and that I should be paying him for the privilege. I asked if he needed to go to the office or an ATM and get cash. He told me I would take a check for a lesser amount, I told him that I wouldn’t. He told me that I was ungrateful. I insisted that I be paid for my time. He told me I did a bad job and deserved nothing.

He tried every attempt at breaking me down. The elderly southern gentleman with his white suits and black cain, looking like some kind of senior knock-off, Leon Redbone kept up his act, until finally he told me that I was making a big mistake by leaving his employ and that word of my not completing things would catch up with me. He pulled two twenties and two fives from his wallet and threw them on the floor in front of me. I was broke. Not missing a beat, I picked them up and shot out his door in a single motion.

At the time, with no prospects and no opportunities, and also being young, I had no idea what I was doing. He may have been right for all I knew, but it didn’t matter. I had to make the choice. I had to do what was right for me. In the end, I never did break into A/V in Detroit, and not long after that I took a job as an administrative assistant. Work wasn’t great, but I did get to work with computers, pay was good, and I wasn’t sweating in the hot sun. While I don’t know how things would have turned out if I had stayed, things certainly have been better for leaving, even if it did take a long time to reconcile that.

Do you have any stories like this? I’d like start a featuring stories like this, contact me with your ideas.