When Miguel slashed Franky's tires in the parking lot he wasn't thinking. He was after all a fairly typical 15 year old Tex-Mex borderline delinquent with a chip on his shoulder and Franky was a fairly typical 40 year old West Texas Good
Ol'Boy with a bad attitude. Miguel also wasn't paying attention to the great big fellow in the oil company pick-up truck who grabbed him by the collar and dragged him into the restaurant where Miguel worked and Franky was a corporate officer on a restaurant visit.
It got pretty exciting for a few minutes . . . the good
Samaritan roustabout dragged Miguel into the restaurant and after not so kindly convincing Miguel to be quiet he asked who owned the Lincoln with 4 now flat tires. He told the story and Frank exploded with curse words and threats of arrest and violence and promises of
devastating retribution. Franky wasn't thinking much either.
I worked for Franky as the manager of that little West Texas Taco Restaurant- actually all 66 of our managers worked for District managers who answered to Regional Managers who answered to Franky. Franky was important. Just ask him and he would tell you.
Miguel worked for me. He was the morning prep cook. As he had been kicked out of high school for a variety of behavior problems he had taken one of the few jobs available to an uneducated 15 year old Mexican Kid with a bad attitude in West Texas. He had signed up for night school to prepare for his GED and occasionally tried to work the
occasional weekend evening shift for extra cash. Miguel had worked for me for several months and I liked the kid. Too much attitude, too much testosterone, too big of a chip on his shoulder but I really liked him! Like most 15 year
olds he forgot to think sometimes but he was smart, he was stunningly efficient, and he learned! Whatever I showed him, stuck. As we worked together to help him understand performance and quality standards he got it! The idea of benchmarking performance and clear expectations made sense to him and he thrived. Like I said, I liked him- smart mouth and all.
Did I mention
Miguels cute little 14 year old girl friend? She was wonderful! She came to see Miguel for his lunch break and was there for him when he got off work. They were adorable and she was starting to show the evidence of their coming family. She apparently wasn't thinking much either.
Franky lived near the store and visited often. He made it clear from the first time he met Miguel that he thought he as a lost cause. Couldn't see past the accent and the quasi gangster outfits and the low-rider Pontiac. One more example that Franky didn't think. He saw Miguel as a
delinquent and I saw him as a young man who understood the standards and expectations and was determined to exceed them. He loved the objectivity of those standards. I loved that fact that he understood them.
A few months into
Miguel's time with the company Fred came in and found Miguel smoking a cigarette while he was cleaning the waste area behind the restaurant and went ballistic. It was 6:40 in the morning, Miguel was way ahead on his work schedule and had taken it upon himself to clean up the area but all Fred could see was the fact that Miguel was sneaking a cigarette. Rather than calling the shift manager or me or anyone, Franky sent Miguel home in a fit of anger. Five days off without pay! No conversation or investigation. Like I said. Not a lot of thinking.
It was two nights later that Franky was visiting the store with his wife and kids when Miguel was driving by and noticed the car- swung into the parking lot, stepped out of his Bonneville low-rider and put his knife to work. Not a lot of thinking.
Later that night after I recovered Miguel from the
oilmans grip and got him to talk to me, (he was starting to think then . . .), I talked to Franky at length. Having him arrested would satisfy a need for punishment but wouldn't replace the tires and Franky wanted his tires replaced. And he wanted Miguel to pay for them. I had everyone write down what had
happened and finally Franky left with the understanding that we would meet the following day to determine
Miguel's fate. Somehow in the process I had become in Franky's mind a part of the problem- I had hired Miguel after all. Franky was angry, Miguel was scared, and I was thinking.
The next afternoon Franky came by after the lunch rush and we all sat down. I asked it I could make a proposal that might help his tire problem and teach Miguel a lesson he would not forget. That morning Miguel had gone to see a cousin who ran a tire shop in the area. The cousin, Miguel, and I had worked out a plan. The cousin would dispatch a truck that afternoon to replace all four tires on the Lincoln with identical brand new tires. It would be billed to Miguel. Miguel wrote a note to us requesting that until he paid the entire cost, we should direct payroll to pay him with two checks each week- both halves made out to him. On each payday, he or I would deliver one half of
Miguel's pay to his cousin until the debt was paid. Fred would get a weekly report of the declining balance. Fred was concerned that Miguel was getting off easy because he got to keep his job and didn't get arrested. I pointed out that working from 5am to 3pm every day for the effective rate of $2 an hour or many months was pretty serious punishment-
In the end, Franky's desire for the tires outweighed his desire for retribution and we all agreed.
Early in Miguel's 16
th year he paid the debt off.
When he made the final payment he sent a note to Franky thanking him for allowing him to take responsibility for what he had done. In the note he also expressed a respect for his job, his company, for me, and for Franky.
By the time Miguel was 17 he was a father and also had become a morning supervisor at the restaurant. He took and passed his GED with ease.
I had become the training manager for the company and right after he turned 18 Miguel was promoted to assistant manager of one of the stores. Now he and his new wife were able to move into an apartment of their own.
I was transferred out of the area and my contact with Miguel became less and less frequent- but I still loved to see the reports of his success. He became a restaurant manager and performed very well. His employees loved his combination of hard nosed standards with objective compassion. He was a good man.
Years after I left the company I was driving through West Texas and stopped into one of the company restaurants for lunch. While I was eating I heard a familiar voice in the kitchen and when I poked my head in it was Miguel! A few years older and a few pounds heavier but the swagger and the grin were still there- He was on a tour of the area as he had just been promoted to regional manager for parts of New Mexico and West Texas.
Miguel had just moved back to Odessa with his wife and their now 3 kids (he had thought about it and three was enough!), had a nice home with a pool, loved his work, had started taking some college classes on the side, was happy and enthusiastic.
We talked for a few minutes before I got back on the road- we laughed at the stories of friends and family and associates around West Texas and now spread across the US. When I was leaving we shook hands and he held on to get my attention. Looking straight at me he asked me if I remembered when he and Franky met and of course I did. He told me that they work well together but that Franky still looked sideways at him and that it was OK because he knew he couldn't undo what he had done. Then he thanked me. For helping him not be arrested and for helping him keep his job and for helping him to focus on what he could do and be. He wanted me to know that he was who he was because I had stood with him and held him accountable while giving him a chance.
When I think about what I do and what I have enjoyed and what I am most proud of, there are a handful of stories like that one that top the list. Working in fast food can be a demeaning, exhausting, mentally and physically draining experience. Your friends and
acquaintances won't tell you how they wish they had a job like yours as it sounds so exciting. More likely they will say something along the lines of "well, I guess someone has to do it."
They are right. Someone has to. I am not sorry I am no longer doing that today but I am forever proud and grateful that I was the one who got to do it all those years ago in the oil patch. I like to think that whether anyone remembers me or the role I played, there are people whose lives are different and hopefully better because I was there.
