April 24, 2003
I have a guy who works for me that I shuddered at when I interviewed him for a job. He had bleached-blonde hair with a purple streak down the middle, a red top-knot in the back and more face-piercings than I had ever seen before. He had rings in his ears, his nose, his lips, his tongue and Bejus knows where else. I was afraid to ask about the condition of his Unit.
But he answered all the interview questions well and we hired him. I have never regretted that decision. He is a bright fellow and a hard worker. I once made the comment that he appeared to have taken a head-first dive into a tacklebox, and word must have filtered down to him. We ALL (including the Plant Manager) have to wear our names on our hardhats at work. This guy now has "Tacklebox" on his hat above his real name.
If there is one thing I've learned over the years, it is that you can't judge a book by its cover. This kid is young, and I remember what I looked like when I was his age. I didn't PUNCTURE MYSELF with all kinds of hardware, but I looked like Fido's ass. My father wanted to throw rocks at me every time he saw me and then take barber shears to my head. Still, I was a bright fellow and a hard worker. I did well at the plant.
I've known many people who were beautiful on the outside, but totally rotten on the inside. I married one of those. I wouldn't trade one "Tacklebox" for three slick-talking, well-groomed assholes. It ain't what you look like that makes you good or bad.
It's how you behave.
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