I Love Jobs!

October 3, 2025

My Childhood Love for “Jobs”

I’ve loved what I simply call “jobs” since childhood. Two toys I asked for specifically were a Chatty Cathy doll and a toy cash register. My dad gave me both, though in our small community, he couldn’t find an actual cash register. I was very young to be asking for one, but I had already fallen in love—with the one at the Austin Dime Store.

That cash register was the first I ever saw. The Austin Dime Store became my go-to spot, mostly for plastic sunglasses and toys. The owner carried sunglasses in every color imaginable, and I built quite a collection. Each visit felt like a special treat with Dad.

I was always excited to go—not just for the sunglasses, but to watch the store owner work the register. She fascinated me. Her register had two rows of keys, like the ones I saw on TV shows such as Gunsmoke and Little House on the Prairie. I couldn’t read the keys, but I was mesmerized by how she used them.

Dad and I made these trips together several times a year, even in colder weather. I thought he was a delightful father—at least, that’s how it felt then. While he shopped for whatever Mom had asked him to find, I watched the owner move in and out of a back room, retrieving items for customers. Sometimes she helped Dad directly. I loved that store—it was full of life and mystery. I’d follow her movements, especially when she rang up other customers.

Growing up poor in a small town with few stores, no parks, and not much to do, a trip to the Dime Store was more than shopping—it was recreation. It was a window into a world of work and color. Over time, I began asking Dad for a toy or “something else,” which usually meant another pair of sunglasses in a new color.

Since he couldn’t find a cash register, Dad surprised me with a toy typewriter—not for Christmas or a birthday, just because. I pecked away at those keys endlessly, full of joy. Then I’d ride my little tricycle around the kitchen table, happy as could be. I had it all: Mom, Dad, a typewriter, and a growing pile of toys. But the typewriter and those sunglasses were my favorites.

This was likely before I even started first grade. I remember the buzz of people in the store, but mostly I remember watching the owner work. I told myself, “I want to work here someday. I wonder if I can.”

The owner kept the store open for many years before she passed away. The building changed hands and purposes several times. Now, it’s something else entirely—but I still remember what it once was.