Brotherhood

This is why I don’t buy the 'People are Terrible' narrative.

My early forays into the clothing business weren’t limited to selling shirts and sweaters out of my fraternity bedroom. (For context, read The Check That Should’ve Bounced.)

In the summer before my senior year at Rutgers, I was hired to move to Penn State's main campus in State College, Pennsylvania, to work at a store called Brotherhood. I was sent to run a “Going Out of Business Sale (GOB).”

Brotherhood was based in Pittsburgh and was akin to the newly founded Gap. Both stores sold primarily men’s and women’s jeans and tops—the not-so-small difference between the two was that Brotherhood also sold pipes, papers, and paraphernalia. This stoner vibe worked just dandy in Pittsburgh, where there were several very successful Brotherhood stores. Not so much in State College. Thus, the GOB sale.

It was a challenging gig, made even more difficult by the fact that students at Penn State left en masse in the summer, turning a college town into a ghost town in a matter of weeks.

Another challenge was the street in front of Brotherhood. It was closed to car traffic for repaving. Even foot traffic was impeded, as on any day, construction vehicles were parked on the sidewalk.

But I had a job and tried to keep my nose on that. I got to put my classroom marketing chops to the test in the real world by designing a newspaper ad.

One of the employees had access to a black 1930s DeSoto 4-door sedan that we commandeered. I asked the employees to dress up in their best Bonnie and Clyde getups (not a stretch for them), and we all posed in and around the car for a picture.

The headline above the photo read: We’re Leaving Town. Beneath it: And we can’t take it with us. To the right ran a list of merchandise and the sale prices. Cute, but as noted above, between the lack of students on campus and inaccessibility to the store, the ad didn’t move much product.

It was a slow crawl that summer, and there were days when I was the only employee in the store, enduring a daily customer count close to zero. Often, I would be bored silly and might have used a pipe or paper, or paraphernalia to help move the clock along.

On one exceptionally boring day, I needed a nap. An old church pew had been repurposed, painted purple and gold, and sat in the front window of the store.

The back of the pew faced the street and was used to hang bellbottom jeans, tie-dyed shirts, and maybe some pipes, papers, and paraphernalia. The front of the pew faced inside the store, and the faded brown cushion in that tired moment seemed as good a place as any to settle in.

Champion sleeper that I was, it didn’t take long. The store faded out. I remember “Whispering Pines” by The Band fading in as my slumber was interrupted by a guy pushing my shoulder, saying, “Hey man, sorry to wake you up. I found a pair of jeans I liked and left the money ($10) next to the register.” I rolled over, said “thanks,” and went back to sleep.

What was more outrageous—my sleeping in the store or his honesty? Having a few years to consider, it’s the latter.

That kid had carte blanche to do anything in the store, short of backing up a truck and leaving with everything. Probably could have cleaned out the cash register, too, since one didn’t need to be a gearhead to open it. But he didn’t. He went about his shopping, found what he wanted, and paid for it. Never bothered me to help find his size or locate a dressing room. What honesty.

Clearly, I’ve reflected and marveled at this for a long time. I’ve just now unpacked it more. Here goes:

I’ve thought about that kid—what he did…and what he didn’t do. And I’ve thought about it even more in recent years in light of the constant din of division that we are fed through the media every day. And then I think about people–so many people–just quietly doing the right thing every day.

Yes, politics is divisive. This isn’t a new phenomenon. Our country was founded because of division. We fought a Civil War over our division. And in the 60s and 70s, we were divided by the war in Vietnam.

Maybe what the media—then and now—fail to recognize is the basic goodness of people. After all, how newsworthy is it to talk about good things? Maybe the notion that most people want to do right by others is more woven into our ecosystems than we realize. That kid’s conscience told him to value honesty. Pure and simple.

Maybe this whole business about recognizing the good in people is spot on. Maybe even “on time.” 😉 Who knows?

Recognize the good. Focus on that.
If it sounds like another New Year’s resolution, fine.
I’ll call it rethinking. I’ve never trusted resolutions anyway.

TL;DR: Amid a slow summer and slower sales, one small act of honesty left a lasting mark. Maybe most people are doing the right thing quietly—and always have been.