This is a story about a very unique poem that I learned many years ago when I first started working. It has stayed with me for over thirty years and to this day still makes me smile and brings perspective to difficult situations and people.

During my last two years of high school and first few years of college, I worked at our neighborhood drug store, where my dad was a pharmacist for most of his career. This little family-owned, town-staple was called Goldin Pharmacy. The owner was a very intelligent, unique, warm and friendly character named Bernard Goldin.

This was back in the day way before Walgreen’s, Rite Aid, Eckerd’s and CVS took over the industry. During this time your neighborhood pharmacy was part of your local culture. The pharmacists were well respected and treated like doctors. Everyone knew their pharmacists by name, and many loyal customers even called them doc. Frequently, patients would ask for a private conference with a pharmacist before they even went to a doctor.

Like today, you could find just about anything at these stores like: cosmetics, over the counter medications, candy, gifts, greeting cards, cigarettes etc. However, back then, there seemed to be something much more friendly and warm about local pharmacies as compared to today. Part of the reason for that is stores are no longer individually owned and the passion for the industry, which included knowledgeable, one-on-one customer service, is disappearing.

Back then, every employee had a responsibility to connect with the customers and residents of the area. You were accountable for knowing as much about the store, the products and the patrons as humanly possible. The job included giving service consistently with warmth, kindness and patience no matter how difficult the situation or the customer. Most people came in expecting to feel better, and it was your job to help make that happen.

At times the profession and field were thankless because the expression of gratitude from customers came few and far between. The gratification came from within, by knowing you helped someone who was not feeling well. Although sometimes no matter what you did, it did not feel like enough, you never portrayed that to paying customers.

Work ethic like this starts at the top, and Bernard Goldin was no exception. He did not only talk the talk, he walked the walk. In his mid sixties at the time, Bernie stood about five foot six and had a full head of completely white hair. He carried with him an aura of respect, not only because he was the boss, but also because he treated his customers the way he wanted you to treat them, with a consistent grace and goodness that you could only admire and hope to emulate.

Don’t get me wrong. Bernie had his limits and faults, but customers would never know that. He kept his frustrations private. For instance, when he had a bad day, and his patience wore thin, he would wait until all of the customers were out of the store and then he would disappear into the back room or the bathroom. You wouldn’t hear a sound for a few seconds. Then suddenly out of no where, he would let out a blood curling scream. It sounded quite scary, but we all knew it was his way of releasing his tension. Actually, those episodes became quite comical because after a while we would know when he was about to blow. But, when he was done he’d come out smiling and laughing again.

To say he was a tad eccentric would be an understatement, but that was part of his charm and what for sure helped keep him sane during very difficult days. At times he would walk around mumbling to himself. No one had any idea what he was saying. Other times he would sing or whistle and not care who was listening. He’d even randomly point at something in the air, known only to himself.

Bernie had an incredibly funny and unique personality. He would often say that in order to make a living at this profession you needed a good sense of humor, because if you didn’t you would go home most days ready to pull your hair out.

He would always find something to laugh at or make fun of, but he would do it in a polite manner. For example, he walked in one day and said to me, “Good morning young man. I have one question for you. Are you, you?”

Being sixteen years old, I wanted to answer this question respectfully and correctly. I paused and could not come up with anything original or of value, so I offered, “ I guess so.”

Bernie grinned ear to ear. “No. Really. Are you, you?”

I gave a puzzled look, took a deep breath and tried to figure out if I had been given a trick question. “If you say so.” I offered.

Bernie slapped his hand on the counter and started cracking up. “Are you, you is on your license plate!” He began to howl with laughter. “The letters R U U are on your license plate, so I just figured I’d ask! Ha ha ha! Ahhhh, that was a good one!”

I shook my head and laughed along with him.

No matter how menial a task seemed, Bernie would always regard it as important, which made the person doing it feel valued instead of degraded. Part of his management style, which I emulate today, is he would never ask someone to do something he was not willing to do himself. One of those little jobs was breaking down cardboard boxes so they could fit in the garbage.

On one particular day, I had been assigned this task. I really didn’t mind it because it gave me a break from the customers. However, the pile of boxes stood about six feet high. I knew I would be there forever doing it. Bernie came sauntering in whistling and singing. “How’s that going young man?”

“I’m fine Bernie.”

“You need some help?”

“Nah. I got it?”

I turned to see Bernie rolling up his sleeves and grinning. “I’m real good at this you know.” He bragged.

I moved over to give him some room. “Well if you insist.”

“Okay, hand me one of those.” With that he jumped right in and started tearing up boxes.

He kept whistling and tearing. “I took a course in this you know and did real well.” Bernie informed me.

“Took a class in tearing up boxes?” I asked.

“Sure, it was called BG.”

The only thing that popped in my head was his initials, B.G. for Bernie Goldin. I knew he had me again, but I just could not figure where he was going with this. “BG? What was it called?”

With a straight face he looked right into my eyes. “Breaking Garbage.”

He started laughing hysterically. “Gotcha again, didn’t I?”

One of Bernie’s favorite sayings was his own version of a famous Theodore Roosevelt quote. He some times would walk with a stick, cane or even an umbrella. He did not need one, but just liked it. One day, as he was getting ready to leave, he came over and asked me to do something special before I went home for the evening. I of course obliged.

He smiled at me and his bright blue eyes lit up. “Thank you young man. I will see you tomorrow.”

I waved as he began to walk down the aisle towards the door. “See you tomorrow Bernie!”

Suddenly he stopped, and turned around still holding his big grin. He began to wave his stick forcefully in the air high above his head and shouted, “Walk slowly and carry a big stick!” With that he busted out laughing again and practically danced out the door, giggling to himself. Everyone in the place started cracking up.

I turned to Dave one of the pharmacists and said, “Isn’t it speak softly and carry a big stick?”

Dave laughed. “For someone else it is, but not for Bernie!”

What I began to realize over time was that Bernie’s sense of humor and humility were large contributors to his success. These attributes allowed him to flourish in what can sometimes be described as an unappreciated field and profession. Back in the day, pharmacies were true problem centers and pharmacists were problem solvers. Most of the customers were of course sick and many you could not please no matter how hard you tried. Of course, there were many people who were very kind and grateful for the assistance. It is those people who made it worthwhile. However, Bernie regarded these folks as the easy wins.

It takes a special breed of person to work in any field that involves service to the sad, sick and sometimes ungrateful. It takes an even more special person to thrive in that environment and find a way to rise above their suffering, by working with them and discovering a silver lining of humor during the most difficult challenges. That is exactly what Bernie did.

The very first day I started working there Bernie pointed something out to me that he had hanging on the wall above the entrance to the pharmacy area and the back of the store. I will never forget it. As he led me to the back, he stopped and pointed up above his head. “Read that young man. Read it every day. Memorize it and appreciate it. That is the key.”

I stopped, looked up and read it very quickly. I did not catch on to its meaning right away. But he knew, he knew that between his leading by example and that poem, I would soon understand.

Before I knew it, I found myself looking up and reading that poem every single day that I worked. It did not take me long to memorize it. I worked there for almost five years and had no idea how much of an effect that poem would have on me and how I would never, ever forget it.

It has helped me in just about every job I ever had, and it still does today. I appreciate it more and more every time I recite it. Over thirty years later I not only appreciate the brilliance and humor of the man who hung it on his store wall, I appreciate the person who penned it. The problem is, to this day, we do not know who that is. At the bottom of the poster, it stated, Author Unknown.

I am in no way trying to plagiarize or take credit for this piece of work. On the contrary I would like to give credit to whomever wrote it. Not knowing who that is I can’t. All I can do is pass it along and help others enjoy it.

Being I cannot thank the author directly, I would like to thank Bernard Goldin. Bernie passed away quite a few years ago, but I am sure he is smiling right now. He is for sure one boss that I will never forget.

So, regardless of your walk of life or your profession I am sure you can relate to the message and humor involved with this little masterpiece. If you are constantly surrounded by people who do not appreciate what you do, what you give, or the service you provide, read this and keep reading it. I guarantee it will make you feel better. It works for me and has for many years. Here is the poem. It’s titled, “We the Willing…”

We the willing

Led by the unknowing

Are doing the impossible

For the ungrateful

And have done so much

For so long,

With so little

We are now qualified

To do anything with nothing