There was one thing 15-year-old Frank knew for sure.
He wanted no part of his father’s life as a farmer.
Beyond that, however, it was all ambiguous.
He really had no idea what he did want to do with his life. Instead of giving the matter careful study and thought, however, Frank yielded to apathy and discouragement, spent too much time in his room, and gradually retreated into himself. He became an introvert—or what they called in those days, “a bump on a log.”
Since he couldn’t summon the initiative and drive on his own, his concerned father imposed on a friend, Mr. Miller, to hire Frank at the local general store. The job wasn’t difficult. Miller asked Frank to wait on customers at the counter, locating the merchandise they requested.
But it wasn’t working. Frank had become so withdrawn that he couldn’t face people over the counter. When a customer approached him, he would walk the other way. Miller tried several approaches to help Frank do his job, but the young man showed no indication that he could be trained.
That night at home, the store manager told his wife that he had just hired the most worthless employee of his career. “I should have let him go at the end of the day,” he groused, “but now I’ll have to deal with him again tomorrow.”
Sometime during the course of that evening, however, Miller began to have an uncomfortable feeling about his use of the word “worthless” to describe his friend’s troubled son. If it’s true that everyone has some hidden talent or redeeming capacity, he reasoned, isn’t it up to me to uncover that? If I’m a worthy manager, isn’t it my obligation to find that talent and try to bring the best out of this young man?
Given the circumstances, it was a charitable idea.
And it turned out to be an idea that would change the world.
In the days that followed, Miller kept an inconspicuous eye on Frank. He kept the boy busy washing windows and doing odd jobs, all the time looking for…something. Some spark. Some natural inclination. Some glimmer of talent.
And will I recognize it when I see it? he asked himself.
The moment came in the midst of some routine shelf stocking. Miller asked Frank to make a floor display of some of the extra merchandise he hand on hand. A simple job—and one with the advantage of requiring very little personal interaction with customers.
To Miller’s surprise, Frank seemed to have a knack for the task. The young man’s normally stoic countenance even showed a brief flash of interest. Immediately, Miller knew he needed to seize on this opportunity.
“Frank,” he said, “I want you to bring out some large tables from the storeroom. Then I would like you to collect all the small and inexpensive items in the store, and make a display of them. I’d like you to be in charge of that display, and I’m counting on you to mingle with the customers, too. Would you consent to do that?”
A transformation took place right before Miller’s eyes. That was sheer enthusiasm he saw on Frank’s normally dead-pan face. With a lilt in his voice, the young man gave a definite “Yes!” And then he added, “Can I start on it right now, Mr. Miller?”
The next day became a most significant day at the general store—and in the life of a previously aimless young man named Frank. Right from the start, customers were drawn to Frank’s display. It was attractive and innovative. What’s more, people began to buy the merchandise. The most momentous change, however, was in Frank himself. As customers began buying the goods, the young man’s confidence soared. His “likability,” which had certainly been hidden for years, came into full view. It wasn’t long before people entering the store began “looking for Frank.”
It was if Frank’s pent-up natural skills had suddenly been released. The dam was broken, and the resulting flow of energy never stopped again. Rather than a “worthless” worker, he was becoming a very valuable employee indeed. Mr. Miller’s small but strategic investment into Frank’s life was paying off a hundredfold.
Eventually, in years to come (and after many intervening baby steps), several men would join Frank in building a store of his own—and then a chain of stores. The stores were named for Frank.
F. W. (Frank Winfield) Woolworth.
They would become known across America as the original “five and dime stores.” They were among the first stores in the world to merchandise their goods out where the customers could see and handle them—rather than hiding them behind a counter or in a back room. Woolworth’s also originated the idea of a soda fountain, another great American institution. You could sit at the counter on a stool and get a quick meal—or an ice cream soda.
All kinds of innovative concepts came bubbling up out of Frank’s imagination, in fields as varied as financing, banking, and marketing. Woolworth’s became the first international store chain in history, with outlets in almost every town and city in America and across the sea. As time went by, Frank Woolworth built one of New York’s early skyscrapers for 27 million dollars—for which he deliberately paid hard cash. In fact, he paid in nickels and dimes, in honor of founding America’s beloved “five and dime stores.”
It’s a great story, but it makes a person wonder. What if Mr. Miller had followed his first inclination and quietly let Frank go after the introverted teenager’s first day on the job? What if he had not taken the time and risk to look a little deeper for a “hidden talent”?
For that matter…what if Barnabas in the book of Acts had never taken the time, expense, and personal risk of hunting down Saul of Tarsus, encouraging the man’s heart, and personally vouching for him before the leaders of the young church? The point is, we need the guidance of God’s Spirit to look for positive qualities in the people who cross our path each day.
As the saying goes, when you see something, say something.
Take every opportunity to encourage, build up, challenge, and speak kindly to the people you encounter today. Without knowing it, you may have the privilege of turning the very direction of someone’s life.
And by the way, don’t overlook the people under your own roof. Even on the most ordinary of days, you will probably never know the God-given, life-shaping power in your words.