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cents an hour!
    Late Sunday evening, before we went home, the workers would pick up their
     cheques at the office. Mr. Pettis called out to me while I was mopping up the
     floor.
    “Come to the office, Brian.” He passed me an envelope. “Open it,” he
     said.
    I tore open the envelope and looked at the cheque. “Mr. Pettis, you have made a
     mistake—this looks like it is too much,” I exclaimed.
    “My boy,” said Pettis, “you sure can work, and we have decided to break our
     deal. We want to pay you for last week.”
    I was shocked—it had never entered my mind, I was so consumed with trying to
     get that job.
    “Thank you, Mr. Pettis,” I said.
    “Back to the floor,” Pettis responded.
    In four weeks I was the highest-paid temporary worker in the store. And my
     countryman was still at the bottom of the pay scale.
    Much later, when I became a teacher, I would tell this story to
     my students many, many times. And it remains one of my most precious memories.
     There is no replacement for hard work.
    Of course, this lower area of Parliament Street had its own problems, like many
     inner-city areas. I experienced this first-hand. I almost lost one of my first
     paycheques.
    Walking home on Parliament Street after twelve one night, I encountered a
     surprise attack from three boys around my own age. Two of them jumped out from
     an alleyway and threw me to the ground, savagely kicking me in the groin.
     Somehow I got to my feet and struck one of them to the ground and began to hit
     the second one. A third boy sprang from the alleyway, and I caught him leaping
     and struck at him. He staggered backwards—the first boy was still on the ground,
     being helped by the second—and as quick as the incident started, the boys fled.
     They were good with their feet, and as I stumbled home I felt the pain from my
     waist to my knees. I was at home a few days to recuperate, but I was content
     that the scoundrels did not get my cheque.
    The months passed, the family adjusted as best it could, Father was doing well,
     my older brother was relatively happy at his work and night school, the younger
     siblings were happy, and Mother shouldered her responsibilities with stoic
     determination. But I think we were all relieved when the time came to return
     home. I had to stay on a little while longer to do my school exams.
    So I was back in Lewisporte, Newfoundland, for the summer of 1960. I needed a
     job before school began in the fall, but few were available. I managed to get a
     few weeks at the new vocational school that had just been constructed. Some
     students were needed to check inventory on the new equipment that was arriving.
     But this only got me to the end of July. I then parked myself at a plumbing and
     heating store that was also involved in subcontracting, installing plumbing and
     heating in new buildings. I would get up early in the morning and go to the
     premises before it opened so that I would create the right impression—that I had
     no problem getting up in the morning and that I was really serious about getting
     a job. The first few morningsthe answer was no, we have no
     opportunities right now. I kept going each morning. I knew the owner of the
     business; his son was a friend of mine. A few mornings later, the company won a
     contract to install the plumbing in a new school that was being constructed in a
     nearby town. I was there early in the morning when the chief plumber was talking
     to the owner about the contract. He suggested to the owner that he would need a
     helper for the job. Given that I was the only person who had presented himself
     each morning, and here I was again, the job was mine. The days were sunny and
     warm that August, and my boss (Mr. Val Tucker) was an excellent worker and
     teacher. I learned a lot from him in just thirty days. It’s funny that I clearly
     remember this brief thirty-day job forty-nine years later. I remember mentioning
     this man’s name at a