There was no job in town worse rejected and less paid than that of brothel porter.
But what else could this man do?
In fact, he had never learned to read or write, he had no other activity or trade. Actually, it was his position because his father had been a doorman at that brothel and also before that, his father's father.
For decades, the brothel was passed from father to son and the porter in the same way.
One day, the old owner died and a young man with concerns, creative and enterprising took over the brothel. The young man decided to modernize the business. He changed the rooms and then summoned the staff to give him new instructions.
To the doorman, he said: – Starting today, in addition to being at the door, you are going to prepare a weekly report for me. There you will write down the number of couples that enter day by day. One in five will be asked how they were treated and what they would correct in the place. And once a week, you will present me the report with the comments that you deem convenient.
The man trembled, he had never been unwilling to work but...
– I would love to satisfy you, sir – he stammered – but I… I don't know how to read or write.
– Oh! I'm so sorry! As you will understand, I can't pay someone else to do this and I can't wait until you learn to write, so...
- But sir, you can't fire me, I worked in this all my life, also my father and my grandfather...
He didn't let it finish.
– Look, I understand, but I can't do anything for you. Logically we are going to give him compensation, that is, an amount of money so that he has until he finds something else. So, I'm sorry. Good luck.
And without further ado, he turned and left.
The man felt the world was crumbling. He had never thought that he could find himself in this situation. He arrived home, for the first time unoccupied. To do?
He remembered that sometimes in the brothel, when a bed was broken or a wardrobe leg was ruined, he, with a hammer and nails, managed to make a simple and provisional repair. He thought that this could be a temporary occupation until someone offered him a job.
He searched all over the house for the tools he needed, all he had were a few rusty nails and a dull pliers.
I had to buy a complete toolbox.
For that I would use part of the money received.
On the corner of his house he learned that there was no hardware store in his town, and that he had to travel two days by mule to go to the nearest town to make the purchase.
What difference does it make? He thought, and set off.
On his return, he brought a beautiful and complete toolbox. He hadn't finished taking off his boots when there was a knock on his door. It was his neighbor.
– I came to ask if you don't have a hammer to lend me.
– Look, yes, I just bought it but I need it to work… since I lost my job…
– Well, but I would return it to him very early tomorrow.
- It's okay.
The next morning, as promised, the neighbor knocked on the door. Look, I still need the hammer. why do not you sell it to me?
No, I need it to work and besides, the hardware store is two days away by mule.
Let's make a deal - said the neighbor
– I will pay you for the two days there and the two days back, plus the price of the hammer, all in all you are out of work. What do you think?.
Actually, this gave him a job for four days...
I agree. He got back on his mule.
When he returned, another neighbor was waiting for him at the door of his house.
– Hello, neighbor. Did you sell our friend a hammer?
- Yes…
I need some tools, I am willing to pay you for your four days of travel, and a small profit for each tool. You know, not all of us can have four days for our purchases.
The ex-janitor opened his toolbox and his neighbor chose a pliers, a screwdriver, a hammer and a chisel. He paid him and left.
“…Not all of us have four days to shop,” he recalled. If this was true, many people might need him to travel to fetch tools.
On the next trip he decided he would risk some of the severance money, bringing back more tools than he had sold. In the process, you might save some travel time.
The word began to spread through the neighborhood and many wanted to avoid the trip.
Once a week, the now tool broker would travel and buy what his customers needed.
He soon understood that if he could find a place to store the tools, he could save more trips and earn more money. He rented a warehouse. Then he made a more comfortable entrance and a few weeks later with a window, the warehouse was transformed into the first hardware store in town.
Everyone was happy and bought from his business. He no longer traveled, from the hardware store in the neighboring town they sent him his orders. He was a good customer. Over time, all the buyers from small towns further afield preferred to shop at his hardware store and win two days' walk.
One day it occurred to him that his friend, the turner, could make hammer heads for him.
And then why not? The pliers… and the tweezers… and the chisels. And then there were the nails and screws…
Not to make the story too long, it happened that in ten years that man was transformed with honesty and work into a millionaire toolmaker. The most powerful of the region entrepreneur.
He was so powerful that one year before the start of classes, he decided to donate a school to his town. There, in addition to literacy, the most practical arts and crafts of the time would be taught.
The intendant and the mayor organized a great inauguration party for the school and an important dinner for its founder. After dessert, the mayor handed him the keys to the city and the mayor hugged him and said:
– It is with great pride and gratitude that we ask you to grant us the honor of putting your signature on the first page of the minutes book of the new school.
"The honor would go to me," said the man. I think I would like nothing more than to sign there, but I don't know how to read or write. I am illiterate.
- You? – said the mayor, who could not believe it.
– Do you not know how to read or write? Did you build an industrial empire without knowing how to read or write? I am amazed. I wonder, what would I have done if I had known how to read and write?
"I can answer it for you," the man replied calmly. If I had known how to read and write… I would still be the doorman of the brothel!
Sometimes our comfort prevents us from overcoming ourselves, we are so comfortable that we see the opportunities that we have outside.
We have to make ourselves uncomfortable in order to get better things!
Commitment to our lives requires us to stretch and get out of our comfort zone.