[April 4, 2024] My boss, Mr. Amato – also called “Mr. A.” – ran his gasoline service station as if his life depended upon it, and in a way, it did because the livelihood of his wife and seven children stemmed from selling gasoline to customers. I was a new gas jockey at his station in my sophomore year in High School. My job was straightforward: giving good service and pumping gas in that order. Mr. A. was a tough nut when it came to treating the customer “like family,” and I would never forget that lesson. All of us gas jockeys were taught by Mr. A. that to be good at our jobs meant knowing the business, doing what we were told, and learning how to please the customer.
According to Mr. Amato himself, he was a fan of Vince Lombardi, the best football coach in American history. We learned to be on time, and Mr. A. had a Lombardi coaching philosophy to back him up. One of Mr. A’s rules drilled into me was based on ‘Lombardi Time’ where the coach expected his players and assistants to be 15 minutes early to practices. Not on time, but 15 minutes early. If they weren’t, Lombardi saw them as “late.” One day, I arrived at work “five minutes before my scheduled shift.” I was docked an hour’s pay for that dereliction of duty. It was a lesson, and I was never late again.
Mr. A. was an Italian immigrant from a small town outside Naples, where he came to America by himself as a child sometime in the late 1920s – living in Italy at the time meant living in hopeless poverty. He once told me how he was scared when he stowed away on a merchant ship coming to America. The crew had caught him and threatened to throw him overboard, but by doing all the dirty jobs on the ship, they allowed him to stay.
He was trying to teach us about being part of the American Dream, and he often referenced it whenever he felt the need, which was often. If you want to be a real man and live the Dream, you have to have “heart in the game.” And, yes, all of us teenage gas jockeys wanted to be real men; somehow, that sparked an interest in us. Yeah, be like John Wayne, Johnny Weissmuller, or Clint Eastwood.
Our pay was two bits an hour – 50¢ – plus any tips we might get from customers. Mr. A. said we were overpaid, but we got a dollar less than the grown-ups doing the same job. While I rarely earned a tip for cleaning windshields, checking the oil level and tire pressure, or doing a quick visual check of the vehicle, I learned about pleasing my boss, Mr. A., by pleasing his customers.
Mr. Amato also expected us to do as we were told, and we did. I kept my eye peeled for any hint of a problem with the goings-on at the gas station. He seemed to like me and once said I was doing “okay” at my work by helping customers and not spilling gasoline when topping off the gas tank. Yep, I did what he told me to do, but more.
Two men pulled up in a dilapidated car wearing green ski masks one day. I didn’t take long before they were out, running into the office, going for the cash register. Mr. A. had one of those large brass registers that weighed more than I did. Waiting for them inside was a madman, Mr. A. There was no time to think. No time to call the police. No time for being scared. Just action. From behind his desk came the madman with the biggest Louisville Slugger baseball bat I’d ever seen, or so it seemed. For me, everything after was a blur, but Mr. A. kept his head. The robbers got away but were later arrested a few miles away after crashing into the Wooten Grocery warehouse. Rumor has it they both had broken arms.
My parents didn’t like me working as a gas jockey. My Dad thought I could do better, and my Mom thought it was too dangerous. I never told them about the robbery, and they never brought it up. So, it was a sad day. I gave Mr. Amato two weeks’ notice that I would be moving on to work closer to home. My Mom had gotten me a paper route, and I would have that job until I graduated High School.
I learned that you don’t always get to choose who you work with, or what they are made of, or whether they are reliable, loyal, happy, or super smart. Do your best. Know right from wrong, and don’t hesitate to act when the chips are down. And there will be a time when you are called upon to do something that requires courage.
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NOTE: See all my letters here: https://www.theleadermaker.com/granddaughter-letters/
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Please read my books:
“I learned that you don’t always get to choose who you work with, or what they are made of, or whether they are reliable, loyal, happy, or super smart. Do your best. Know right from wrong, and don’t hesitate to act when the chips are down. And there will be a time when you are called upon to do something that requires courage.”
Excellent advice my friend I too learn those work ethics at early age .
Great letter, Gen. S. Much appreciated. ✔
Nicely written, Gen. Satterfield and thank you for another beautiful letter to your granddaughter. After reading the posts below, I can see that we have a number of people like me who are real fans of these letters, and I hope that we can all learn a bit from them. Learn to be a better person and to value the family more. Family is the bases for having a good life. This Gas Jockey story is something really down to earth and speaks volumes about how we can learn from others how to be the kind of people we all want to be.
Emmanuel excellent comment
Gas jockey, why did the name get changed to Gas Station Attendant? Or, why is the name today?
Women’s Lib
Feminism
Political Correctness
— you take your pick —
Gas Jockey
Gas Jockey
Gas Jockey
You get the gas. I get to go.
#64 more letters. thank you
What Does a Gas Station Attendant Do?
A gas station attendant, or gas jockey, provides customer service at a full-service gas station. Their duties include greeting customers, pumping the requested amount of gasoline, cleaning windows, checking fluid levels, checking tire pressure, and processing payments. They may also be responsible for station upkeep, including emptying trash bins and sweeping floors. Skills include basic math, basic vehicle mechanics, and knowledge of safety protocols, such as where shut-off valves are located and how to use them in case of emergency.
😎😎😎 THANKS 😎😎😎
I worked as a gas attendance off and on during my high school years
Seems like we grew up doing the same jobs.
😃😃😃😄yes it does. Are we twain friend Gen Douglas
Two men pulled up in a dilapidated car wearing green ski masks one day. And, so the story begins. If you want to read more about what happened, then you are in the right place. Gen. Satterfield is the kind of man who doesn’t pull any punches.
“….I didn’t take long before they were out, running into the office, going for the cash register. Mr. A. had one of those large brass registers that weighed more than I did. Waiting for them inside was a madman, Mr. A. There was no time to think. No time to call the police. No time for being scared. Just action. From behind his desk came the madman with the biggest Louisville Slugger baseball bat I’d ever seen, or so it seemed. For me, everything after was a blur, but Mr. A. kept his head. The robbers got away but were later arrested a few miles away after crashing into the Wooten Grocery warehouse. Rumor has it they both had broken arms.” – Gen. Doug Satterfield. And this is the rest of the story.
Wow, reading about Gas Jockeys from the 1960s. What a time to be alive and do those old fashioned jobs. Must have been fun.
Great job on this letter ….. drum roll please …. No. 64 Letters to My Granddaughter.
… and counting.
As far as I’m concerned, the series should not end. There are just too many great stories to read from Gen. S. And, we all can appreciate the lessons learned and the fun we have reading them too. 😘
Always the stories come out great. I do think that Gen. Satterfield might have been slightly selective in choosing which stories to write about, selecting those that are the most entertaining, because he does try to keep his posts from being too boring. More will read what he writes with a tad shake of humor. That sells …. Gen. Satterfield, you da man.
Gen. S. showing that he is smarter than he makes things out to be. “My parents didn’t like me working as a gas jockey. My Dad thought I could do better, and my Mom thought it was too dangerous. I never told them about the robbery, and they never brought it up. So, it was a sad day. I gave Mr. Amato two weeks’ notice that I would be moving on to work closer to home. My Mom had gotten me a paper route, and I would have that job until I graduated High School.” – Gen. Doug Satterfield telling us that he is paying attention to his mom and dad and that is a good thing for him. I can’t wait to read the story behind him joining the US Army.
People Ask: Why Did I Join the U.S. Army?
https://www.theleadermaker.com/people-ask-why-did-i-join-the-u-s-army/
Here is the bottom line answer. I joined for the adventure. Yep, that’s it. Now, there is a lot to unpack with that answer because I did join at the lowest rank, Private (the lowest of the low). I expected no privileges and got none. Whatever I gained as a Soldier was from what I personally accomplished. Nobody owes you anything or gives you anything in the Army. You have to earn it. That in itself is an adventure.
ZB gives us the reference and quotes one para of Gen. Satterfield’s post that day. But there are more reasons, and let us not forget them.
People Ask: Why Did You Stay in the Army?
https://www.theleadermaker.com/people-ask-why-did-you-stay-in-the-army/
Thanks catorenasci. 👍
More great blog info from Gen. Satterfield. ✔✔✔✔✔✔
Great letter today, Gen. Satterfield. Each letter gets better at the story telling and content. This job as a “gas jockey” had me laughing so loud that my dog came running in to see if I was all right. I was, so my dog Chewy now sits beside me whenever I read your blog. Maybe he needs the entertainment value. 👀👀👀👀👀👀
Good dogs are always the best companions. Bless you and your dog.
Gen. Satterfield, …. what job didn’t he have?
Eek! Another one of the most wonderful lovely passionate letters of Gen. Satterfield to his granddaughter. Please Please Please keep writing these. I can’t get enough.
❤ Yes, Melissa Jackson ❤ I agree and have to admit that I’m getting a bit of an addiction on reading them. Each is an exploration into the young mind of Gen. Doug Satterfield as a little boy and later as a teenager, and soon to be young man. I ALWAYS wondered what was behind the mind of a young boy growing up impoverished in the Deep South to rise to be a US Army General. And, so, here we are. Thank you, sir. Please continue your series. You have a special fan club of readers of these letters. Oh, and I just got a copy of your newer book “55 Rules for a Good Life.”
Yep, great letters. Great books. Great blog and website. Recommended reading for my High School students.