Early in our marriage Suzanne bought a Wilton cake decorating course and then went to a cake decorating class at Tri-County Technical College. She did very well with it and was making several cakes per day.
Each morning, I would bring a cake or two to the store and we would give slices of cake to the employees and to customers who came in regularly every morning for a free cup of coffee.
At that time, we were in the process of redecorating the Western Auto Store with the official Western Auto Flag logo. Suzanne had decided to recreate that logo on a cake. So, she copied it and the next morning I took the cake to the store.
Now, my father was always trying to impress the people at the People’s Bank of Iva. He especially valued the opinion of Yvonne McGee and her husband J. R.
Papa Bruce took one look at the cake and decided it was so perfect that he had to share it with the people at the bank. So, he took our cake and presented it to the people at the bank. He said they thought it was great.
We did not get our cake that morning, but Suzanne was given the highest honor that my father could have paid her.
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I had been away at college for nearly four years. While in college, I was sometimes home on the weekends, but most of my weekends were taken up visiting with friends. I did work at the store on Saturdays, but some people had not seen me in years.
Suzanne and I had just gotten married. We had a break-in at the store soon after Suzanne and I got married and we were trying to find a way to stop them. We had a new, ultra high-tech alarm installed at the store. I had a C. B. radio in the Galaxy and I also had a C. B. walkie-talkie that I left at the house with Suzanne.
The Western Auto was just outside of the city limits of Iva. This meant that the Iva Police Department had no jurisdiction to respond. We had to rely on the Anderson County Sheriff’s Department, which was not much more than useless.
There was an old joke that was more truth than joke that a Sheriff’s Department investigation ended when the deputy taking the report said, “Call us if you hear anything.”
In their defense, the sheriff’s deputies were spread very thin. We had a county that was approximately 1,000 square miles with only a small handful of deputies to cover it all. We knew that if anyone was going to catch anyone breaking into the store, we would have to be the ones to do it.
My father and I had decided that when the alarm company called us, I would go around the back of the store (a road ran behind the store) and he would go around front of the store. This way maybe we would catch them in between. Or, so we hoped.
One night the alarm went off and I went to the back of the store and started looking with the flashlight to see if I saw any obvious points of entry. I did not, so I started to go around front. To do this, I had to cross an old railroad right-of-way, which still had some ballast and ties. There were steep hills on either side of this right-of-way.
There is a bar across the street from the Western Auto called Snuffy’s Tavern. Now, this is about as rough a bar as you can imagine. If you read my story about the pool cue, you will get a little glimpse at what I am talking about.
One of the bar patrons yelled to my father “You ain’t going in there by yourself, are you, Bruce?” It appears that the good old boy patrol was going to provide back up for my father. Weapons of all kinds, from nunchucks to AK-47s, were quickly produced. The Secret Service assault wagon had nothing on these guys. In fact, if there was a standoff between a highly armed and trained SWAT team and these guys, the SWAT team better just go home.
About that time, I rounded the corner of the store and I heard the unmistakable sound of shotgun slides being racked. The sound was deafening. I heard what seemed like a hundred or so pump shotguns each racking a shell.
Then, it happened. Rusty was a Vietnam veteran and had been attached to the 82nd Airborne and, I think, was also a Green Beret. Rusty had about a million and five jumps to his credit.
I don’t know where he came from or how he managed to do it but, I was Rusty’s one million and sixth jump.
As I laid there with Rusty’s knee in my back and a face full of gravel, I yelled, “I am David. I am Junior. I am Bird. I am supposed to be here.”
My father yelled to the crowd, “That is David!” We had a posse go in the store and walk with my father around the back of the store.
While Doc, a former army medic, tended to my wounds, the posse searched the building from top to bottom and found nothing. They were all hoping to find someone they could beat up. Each one said, “He better hope I ain’t the one to find him”.
When Doc was done with me, I resembled someone who was an extra for Michael Jackson's Thriller video.
The alarm company automatically called the sheriff’s office so, once they were called, someone had to be there to fill out a report. I called Suzanne, and Papa and I waited for over an hour before the deputy arrived to take the report.
By the time the deputy arrived, all the guns were out of sight but very close by.
The deputy looked at me and noticed my wounds. Doc had bandaged me up pretty good, but I still had some blood on me. He asked if I had anything further to add to the report. I said, “No.”
The deputy asked how I got the injuries I had. Rusty looked at me with anticipation. He was wondering if I was going to rat him out or not. I told the deputy I fell into the railroad right-of-way. This seemed logical and he accepted it.
As the deputy left, he said, “Call us if you hear anything.”
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A finance company hired me away from another finance company. One of the main reasons they hired me was because they had purchased many credit accounts from the Western Auto Store in Iva and were having a hard time collecting them.
They had hired a new assistant manager just after they purchased the accounts with the idea that he would collect those accounts.
When I started working at this finance company, it was plain to see that this new assistant manager had a serious dislike for the town of Iva.
The assistant manager would complain whenever he was assigned to chase Iva. Chase is the term we used when we went to collect face-to-face with someone in the field by going to their house or place of employment, or wherever.
Our manager would send me to Iva most of the time. And, most of the time I would come back with money.
The assistant manager could not understand how I did this. Our supervisor assigned the assistant manager to go with me to Iva to meet the sheriff’s deputy to go serve Claim and Delivery papers and pick up some items. We were to meet the deputy in the parking lot at the now closed Western Auto Store.
While we sat and waited, I got thirsty. I decided to go across the street to Snuffy’s Tavern and get a Diet Coke.
I asked the assistant manager if he wanted one. He went berserk. He said that those people would kill me and that he would not have my blood on his hands.
I went anyway. I went in, got my drink, and ran into an old friend from Iva and talked in the doorway of Snuffy’s.
We walked towards the car and the guy asked where I worked now. I told him "X" Finance. He said, "Oh yeah, I owe ya’ll a little money. I would have paid it, too, except they sent a little jerk to collect it."
He asked how much he owed. I had his card in the car because we were supposed to look him up while we were in Iva. I asked the assistant manager to hand me the card. He shook as he handed it to me.
The man I was talking to recognized the assistant manager as being the little jerk who had tried to collect from him. I explained that the assistant manager was a city boy and did not know how to act around people. The man handed me the money to pay off his account. I gave him a receipt.
The deputy came and we served the papers. Then, the assistant manager and I went to see some different people who had past due accounts. I knew all of them and where they lived.
We went to one house and I was invited in to supper. The assistant manager and I sat at the table sipping tea while they ate and the subject came up about where I was working.
I told them "X" Finance and the man said, “Oh yeah, I owe them some money. How much do I owe them?”
I looked at his card and told him and he gave me the money. He then realized who the assistant manager was and said that he was the reason he did not pay. I told the man that the assistant manager just did not understand people from Iva.
We went to two more houses. Each time the story was the same. People paid and then recognized the assistant manager as being the little jerk who told them they had to pay or else.
When we got back to the office, the assistant manager told everyone that he could not believe what he had seen.
People were begging me to take their money. We collected more than we went after and I did not have to raise my voice or threaten anyone. He went on to say he never heard me ask anyone for any money.
People respond when you treat them with respect. When you tell people they have to do something, they will do all they can to fight against you. The secret to handling people is to remember they are people. They are not “debtors” or “past dues” or something else impersonal. They are people just the same as everyone else.
Race doesn’t matter either. Everyone is a person. Years ago, some people would harass my father about selling to people of other races on credit. He said, “In my eyes, everyone is green.”
When I was a collection manager at several finance companies, I found the best way to let people know you were trying to help is to ask, “What can we do to help you get caught up on your bill?”
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Early in our marriage Suzanne bought a Wilton cake decorating course and then went to a cake decorating class at Tri-County Technical College. She did very well with it and was making several cakes per day.
Each morning, I would bring a cake or two to the store and we would give slices of cake to the employees and to customers who came in regularly every morning for a free cup of coffee.
At that time, we were in the process of redecorating the Western Auto Store
with the official Western Auto Flag logo. Suzanne had decided to recreate that logo on a cake. So, she copied it and the next morning I took the cake to the store.
Now, my father was always trying to impress the people at the People’s Bank of Iva. He especially valued the opinion of Yvonne McGee and her husband J. R.
Papa Bruce took one look at the cake and decided it was so perfect that he had to share it with the people at the bank. So, he took our cake and presented it to the people at the bank. He said they thought it was great.
We did not get our cake that morning, but Suzanne was given the highest honor that my father could have paid her.
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Suzanne learned to drive from her cousin and me. I would take her out to try driving and Suzanne would be very uncomfortable with it. After a great deal of getting used to it, Suzanne was able to become one with the vehicle.
It always seemed like Suzanne had this extra sense that could feel that something was off with a car. She can get in a car and say that it feels like one of the tires is low. I’ll put the air gauge to the tires and find that one of them is about a pound low. When I inflate it, Suzanne will no longer have that feeling.
Throughout the years, Suzanne has driven many cars. Back when we had the Western Auto Store, we would often have to drive customers' cars. Suzanne could tell in an instant if something was wrong with a car.
Evidently, Suzanne inherited this knack for knowing cars from her Daddy. He was one of only two mechanics I would trust with my brakes. He was also one of the few mechanics who would come to the store when fixing a car who did not have to come back for more parts. He always knew what was wrong with the cars he was working on.
Papa Jim had once owned his own mechanic shop where he worked on cars as a side line. According to his friends, he always had more work than he could do and could have made a great business out of it, if he had wanted.
We had a team of great mechanics who worked for us. One had been a mechanic since he was knee high to a bullfrog. He was the only mechanic I would let work on Suzanne’s car if it was not under warranty and the other mechanic I would let work on my brakes.
He knew cars. He had that ear where he could hear from a mile away what was wrong with a car. Often Suzanne would pull up into the parking lot at the store and this mechanic would grab a service order and fill it in knowing Suzanne’s car would be in his shop shortly.
My father had a car dealership that he always dealt with. Claude Ray Ford in Elberton, Georgia, had earned Papa’s trust years ago and he bought all his cars from Mr. Ray. He bought many of these sight unseen.
Most of the cars in the store’s fleet of 13 cars and 13 trucks had been purchased from Claude Ray. Several of these were still in warranty, including Suzanne’s car.
Since it was in warranty, we would take Suzanne’s car to Claude Ray for service. We would leave the car with “Mr. Henry” who, I believe, was Claude Ray’s brother, Henry Ray. Mr. Henry would provide a loaner car for Suzanne since her car was “Mission Critical” to McClendon Company Incorporated and its affiliated business, Western Auto Associate Store-Iva and McClendon Rental.
Suzanne had the knack. Sometimes she would crank the loaner car and get out and go tell Mr. Henry that something was wrong with the loaner car. He would send his mechanic to get the car and low and behold, there was always something wrong with it.
One day we dropped off Suzanne’s car for service. We had an appointment in Atlanta, GA, later that day so I told Mr. Henry we needed to make sure we had a reliable car. Mr. Henry said, “I ALWAYS give you a reliable car”.
This car broke down in downtown Atlanta. A man, who looked like he had just killed his parents, approached and offered to help. We got the car "Redneck engineered” and he said, “Get your *** out of here. You got no business being in this part of town”. As it turns out, where we broke down was just minutes away from a minor riot.
On another occasion, Mr. Henry had three of his best mechanics go over a current year’s Ford Grenada. He told them to take it all the way apart if they had to so that the car would be in perfect shape for Suzanne.
Suzanne picked up the car and then later Suzanne and a friend of ours went to pick up something at the friend’s house. They took the back way through a less than desirable neighborhood.
The car, which had been looked over and certified by not one, but three Ford Certified “Factory Trained” mechanics, broke down in that neighborhood. It broke a timing chain. As most of you know, this is extremely rare in a car that was less than six months old and still had the original factory warranty.
One mechanic said Mr. Ray told them that anyone who worked on the loaner car that Suzanne was going to get would get a steak dinner for him and his wife if Suzanne did not find anything wrong with it.
Mr. Henry told my father, “If I ever take a car in trade that I am the least bit unsure about, I am going to pay your daughter-in-law to drive it for the day. If she doesn’t feel like something is wrong, or it don’t break down on her, I will put a Su-Dee-Lu Certificate of Excellence on it and sell it for top dollar. I will know it is a reliable car." Papa Bruce was the only one who called Suzanne Su-Dee_Lu, but he and Mr. Henry talked about her so much that Mr. Henry thought that was her “sho nuff" name, as we used to say.
Papa Bruce died shortly after that. Mr. Henry never needed Suzanne to test a car for him, but he was serious. He told Papa he already had what the sticker would look like in his mind.
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Shortly after Suzanne and I began to work for my father full-time, he said to me that he really would like to start selling R. C. Cola. He had grown up with R. C. Cola and loved it as a boy.
He had seen it around, but the sales people never came to his store, so he
did not have an opportunity to start carrying it. He told me that if I could get in touch with the route salesman to have him stop by the store because he would like to talk to him about carrying the R .C. brand of drinks.
A few weeks later, I ran into the
R. C. route salesman at one of the stores in town. Back then, the salesmen did everything. They drove a truck load of product around, checked the inventory for each store, and then immediately delivered what they thought that store needed for the next week. It works differently now and not as well, I might add.
I told the route salesman that, before he left town for the day, we would like to talk to him at Western Auto about selling his product. He said he would stop by on his way out of town. He never stopped.
Several months later, I encountered a different route salesman in town and told him the same thing. The man said he was new to the route and R. C. and had not set up new accounts yet, but he would stop by the store and see what he could do.
Well, he did actually stop by the store and my father asked him about the price of soft drinks. At that time, we sold Coke products out of a machine that never worked and that was it. The salesman told him his price for a case or two.
My father then asked the salesman what the least price we could sell two liter drinks for would be. The salesman told him that we would have to buy 300 cases of two liters and that each week we would have to buy enough two liters to build back up to 300 cases.
If we did, we could sell them at 69¢ each. My father told him to set him up. Then, my father asked him what was the least we could sell canned drinks for.
The salesman told him we would have to buy 300 cases of those as well and buy back up to 300 cases each week. Then, we could sell a six pack for about $1.39. My father told him to go ahead.
The route salesman brought in those cases of soda and we built a display and put up signs and went to selling the soft drinks.
Meanwhile back at the R. C. warehouse, the route salesman has been chewed out by his district manager because he figured they were going to have to eventually buy back all those soft drinks from us.
The district manager told his salesman that this was the stupidest mistake that he had ever had a new salesman make and that, when they did have to buy them back, the total cost was going to come out of his commission.
My father loved to sell. He could sell ice to an Eskimo if he wanted to. He wanted to sell R. C., so everyone that came in the store was told about the R. C. price. We sold out of the R .C. drinks in less than two days.
That next week, the route salesman with his district manager came to the store at the end of his day. The salesman had been listening all day to how the district manager was going to have to go in and explain to us that a mistake was made and that the company would like to apologize to us for the hassle.
When the salesman came in the store, he looked like he had lost his last friend. He was dragging lower than the ears on a sad dog. The first words out of the district manager’s mouth were, “Where are all my drinks?”
I told him, “We sold them!” He said," Well, what about the drinks in the back room; why aren’t they out here?” I told him that we did not put anything in the back room. I went on to tell him that Bruce was upset with R. C. because we ran out of drinks in less than two days and we did not know how to get in touch with them to get more drinks.
My father had a special way of dealing with “know-it-all district managers.” He hated them. He made it plain with this district manager that we would continue to sell the product as long as this salesman was on the route and that the district manager left the salesman alone.
By the time Bruce was finished, the district manager had a change of heart and apologized to the route salesman. He then arranged for us to get a brand new R. C. drink machine. They would pay to install an outdoor outlet for the machine so that it could be outside the store on the sidewalk. They would also pay for the electricity to run it.
Learn from this story what you will. I think the important points were:
1. The original route salesman, the one that did not come to the store, let a lot of business pass by that would have been easy to get.
2. The new salesman approached the new business in an honest, straightforward way and got what became the best stop on all the routes in the district manager’s district.
3. District Mangers and other supervisors need to observe and actually see what the facts are before they try to correct the actions of their people.
4. Just because a mom and pop place is a mom and pop place does not mean that it can’t be very profitable for all concerned.
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Disclaimer: Many of the stories are completely fictional. Other stories are fictional accounts of true stories. Other stories are completely true. Sometimes the names have been changed to protect the innocent.
My father was always a little bit of a devil. He also loved to tell a little yarn and see who would believe it. He was generally surprised to learn that people really did believe him.
One day Mrs. Fitzgerald was in my father’s store. She was telling my father about how she needed to get a new set of dentures and how they were way too expensive for her.
My father, playing around, told her “Why don’t you do what I do?” He said that he went down to the local funeral home and bought his dentures.
We had two large reputable funeral homes in our area and several smaller ones.
He told Mrs. Fitzgerald that, as you know, they don’t bury people with their dentures in. He told her they don’t throw these teeth away; they save them.
He said that what you do is you go up to the funeral home and you tell
them you would like to buy some dentures. He said when you first go they will tell you that they don’t do that. He said that you have to tell them you know they do.
He went on to tell her that you have to insist you know they do and they will repeat that they don’t do this. He told her that, after a while, you have to tell them that you know they do because Bruce McClendon in Iva told you that they do.
He went on to describe how the whole procedure works. He said they take you in a room and give you two baskets. They bring you in a basket of uppers (don’t worry, they have been washed and sterilized).
One of the empty baskets is to put the uppers in that don’t work and the other is where you put the ones that might work out for you. You keep trying uppers until you find a pair that is comfortable and you are satisfied.
Once you have your uppers, they bring you two more empty baskets and a basket of lowers to try on. He said once you have found the best fitting uppers and lowers you can find, then you can make arrangements for payments.
The sad thing is that Mrs. Fitzgerald believed him. She put all of her fears and pride aside and went up to the funeral home. She began to insist that she wanted to try on a pair of teeth and that she knew they did it.
Finally, the director had to call my father and get him to convince Mrs. Fitzgerald that he was only playing. Mrs. Fitzgerald's son came to our store with the intention of whipping my father’s tail for such a stunt.
I have included this story as an example of what NOT to do in retailing.
Notice: The story you have just read was told to me by my father as if it were true. There is no way to know for sure whether it is really true or not. My father liked to tell stories with real people names even though they never really happened to him. I cannot confirm or deny this story. All names, other than my father’s, are fictitious.
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29 Years ago today (12 May 1987) my father, Robert Bruce McClendon, Jr., went to live with Jesus. It was very much a surprise to me when it happened. Evidently it was not so much a surprise to him.
When Papa died, my mother, brother, and his wife were in Texas visiting my mother’s side of the family. Before my mother left for the trip, my father had visited Southlawn Memorial Gardens in Starr, South Carolina, to arrange the purchase of burial lots. He decided that he and my mother would go there together to make the purchase when she returned.
Not too long before he died, my father asked me what I would like to inherit from him
Suzanne and Papa
. The truthful answer was nothing. However, after he pressed me a little bit, I realized I did want the cash register he and I had bought together a few years before.
The day before he died, Papa asked to get to visit with our son Jared. After the store closed that night, we took Jared up to see Papa and left him to visit Papa while we went to see the movie Crocodile Dundee.
That night when we came to pick Jared up, both Papa and Jared were asleep. We took Jared to our house without waking up Papa.
We got to thinking that Papa might wake up and panic if he saw that Jared was not in his crib. I called to let him know we had Jared.
Jared "Holding" Papa Bruce
At the time of Papa’s death, I was getting the store converted to a computer inventory system. This was a long process. The day before Papa died the computer came online and we printed out one receipt. It was a pretend sale, but Papa could see great things were in store for our little company.
That test sale was the first and last sale the computer ever made.
In order to get the computer on line - this was back in the days before there was an internet - we had to have a second phone line installed at the store.
Every morning I would open the store early and get started working on getting the store’s inventory entered into the computer. I would start about an hour early before customers started coming in because this was usually a good time to get things done. Since I was not quite ready to start transacting business, I did not answer the main phone line at the store, but I did answer the computer line at the store since only Suzanne had the number.
The phone rang and I answered it. Suzanne said, “Papa is having a heart attack.”
What had happened was that my father started having chest pains while getting dressed.
Out in our back yard between our house and my grandmother’s house, my father had installed an old farm bell like what people on farms used to let those people who were working in the field know that it was time to eat. Papa had discovered that his grandson, Patrick, loved to ring this bell. So, he put a rope on the bell that went all the way to the ground so that Patrick could ring the bell all he wanted to.
*Papa went out to the back yard and started ringing the bell over and over. This alerted my grandmother. She saw Papa lying on the ground ringing the bell and ran down the hill to our house and got my wife Suzanne to the door. Suzanne called me on the computer line at the store.
I was rattled and could not think right. I knew the rescue squad’s phone number. The number was also on a big orange sticker on the telephone at the store. Further, the auto-dialer directly by the phone was programmed with the rescue squad’s phone number. I could not think of any of these things. I did remember to dial the operator.
The ambulance was dispatched and I went to the house. I locked the store but did not set the alarm.
When I got to the house, Papa was on the ground telling my grandmother to calm down and go into the house. He was also telling me to have Suzanne get the store open.
Suzanne had never opened the store before and did not have a clue how to do it. I told her as best I could and we loaded Papa in the ambulance.
At 10:10 AM, Papa was pronounced dead by Dr. William Walker.
Papa was a great man. The story I am about to tell is indicative of the type of man he was.
The best way to get my father to do anything was to tell him he could not do it. He had to prove you wrong.
The RCA television sales representative came to the store and offered Papa a great deal on a truckload of televisions and VCRs. So, he ordered them. This was on a Friday evening.
He told my mother what he had done and she walked him into the storeroom and pointed out that it was full of televisions, stereos, and VCRs. She told him we did not have room for the truckload of electronics and that until we sold the stuff we had we could not pay for it. She told him he would have to cancel the order first thing Monday morning, unless he could somehow get rid of EVERYTHING over the weekend.
The next morning, Saturday, I was eating breakfast at the Waffle King. Papa walked in and said, “Get your ridin’ britches on, David.” He then told me he was going to sell every television, stereo, and VCR we had in stock that day. This was a large stockroom full of electronics.
When we got to the store, I loaded half of each kind of VCR we had in the 1965 Ford Galaxy I was driving. I also loaded 5,000 feet of antenna wire and a large assortment of antenna connectors, along with my tool box in the car.
At this time, cable-ready televisions were fairly new and practically no one knew how to set up a VCR. It required a technician to set up either. So, I would have to set up and install whatever Papa sold that day.
Papa sold the first one early and he told me to call before I left each house to see where to go next.
Suzanne fixed me a sandwich and I gulped it down between stops. I would go to a house and find that one of the two trucks (Old Red and the Ford Truck) had dropped off a television and, in some cases, an antenna.
At one house I arrived to find three televisions, three VCRs, and one antenna. By this time, I was exhausted but I got it done.
Finally, about three hours after the store closed, I made it back to the store. Papa had sold everything, even a television that had been traded in that did not work. He sold it to an electronics student that wanted to tinker with it.
I was worn out. The only electronic things left in the store were the coffee pot we used to make coffee for employees and the calculators we used in the office. There was absolutely nothing electronic left in the store.
I was tired; Papa was happy. The entire crew had pulled together to get this all done in one day. Suzanne and Nana filled out contracts until their hand cramps had cramps. The shop guys took turns delivering televisions in the two trucks and Carl delivered several in his car.
This was a lot of work and a lot of fun. I wish we could do it again.
Papa, we miss you.
*Note: In the video I state that Papa put on his shoes and went outside. My Aunt Gloria reminded me that when we went into the house we found his shoes beside the chair where it appears he had placed them. It appeared that he was going to sit down and put his shoes on but got to hurting too bad and went outside to the bell.
