A lady named Lill

[Guest guest]

Kind words can be short and easy to speak, but their

echoes are truly endless.----Mother Theresa.

 

 

 

 

 

Lillian was a young French Canadian girl who grew up

in the farming community of River Canard, Ontario. At

the age of 16, her father thought "Lill has had enough

schooling," and she was forced to drop out of school

to contribute to the family income. In 1922, with

English as her second language and limited education

and skills, the future didn’t look bright for Lill.

 

Her father, Eugene Bezaire, was a stern man who rarely

took no for an answer and never accepted excuses. He

demanded that Lill find a job. But her limitations

left her with little confidence and low self-esteem,

and she didn’t know what work she could do.

 

With small hope of gaining employment, she would still

ride the bus daily into the "big cities" of Windsor or

Detroit. But she couldn’t muster the courage to

respond to a Help Wanted ad; she couldn’t even bring

herself to knock on a door. Each day she would just

ride to the city, walk aimlessly about and at dusk

return home. Her father would ask, "Any luck today,

Lill?"

 

"No...no luck today, Dad," she would respond meekly.

 

As the days passed, Lill continued to ride and her

father continued to ask about her job-hunting. The

questions became more demanding, and Lill knew she

would soon have to knock on a door.

 

On one of her trips, Lill saw a sign at the Carhartt

Overall Company in downtown Detroit. "Help Wanted,"

the sign said, "Secretarial. Apply Within."

 

She walked up the long flight of stairs to the

Carhartt Company offices. Cautiously, Lill knocked on

her very first door. She was met by the office

manager, Margaret Costello. In her broken English,

Lill told her she was interested in the secretarial

position, falsely stating that she was 19. Margaret

knew something wasn’t right, but decided to give the

girl a chance.

 

She guided Lill through the old business office of the

Carhartt Company. With rows and rows of people seated

at rows and rows of typewriters and adding machines,

Lill felt as if a hundred pairs of eyes were staring

at her. With her chin on her chest and her eyes

staring down, the reluctant farm girl followed

Margaret to the back of the somber room. Margaret sat

her down at a typewriter and said, "Lill, let’s see

how good you really are."

 

She directed Lill to type a single letter, and then

left. Lill looked at the clock and saw that it was

11:40 a.m. Everyone would be leaving for lunch at

noon. She figured that she could slip away in the

crowd then. But she knew she should at least attempt

the letter.

 

On her first try, she got through one line. It had

five words, and she made four mistakes. She pulled the

paper out and threw it away. The clock now read 11:45.

"At noon," she said to herself, "I’ll move out with

the crowd, and they will never see me again."

 

On her second attempt, Lill got through a full

paragraph, but still made many mistakes. Again she

pulled out the paper, threw it out and started over.

This time she completed the letter, but her work was

still strewn with errors. She looked at the clock:

11:55 - five minutes to freedom.

 

Just then, the door at one end of the office opened

and Margaret walked in. She came directly over to

Lill, putting one hand on the desk and the other on

the girl’s shoulder. She read the letter and paused.

Then she said, "Lill, you’re doing good work!"

 

Lill was stunned. She looked at the letter, then up at

Margaret. With those simple words of encouragement,

her desire to escape vanished and her confidence began

to grow. She thought, "Well, if she thinks it’s good,

then it must be good. I think I’ll stay!"

 

Lill did stay at Carhartt Overall Company...for 51

years, through two world wars and a Depression,

through 11 presidents and six prime ministers - all

because someone had the insight to give a shy and

uncertain young girl the gift of self-esteem when she

knocked on the door.

 

Dedicated to Lillian Kennedy by James M. Kennedy (son)

and James C. Kennedy (grandson) from Chicken Soup for

the Soul at Work

 

 

 

 

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