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My parents ran a small restaurant in Seattle. It was open twenty-four hours a day, six days a week. And my first real job, when I was six years old, was 1 the diners' shoes. My father had done it when he was young, so he taught me 2 to do it well, telling me to 3 to shine the shoes again if the customer wasn't 4.
I was proud of working in the restaurant 5 I was also working for the good of the family. But my father 6 said that I had to meet certain standards to be part of the team. I 7 to be on time, hard-working, and polite to the 8. I was 9 paid for the work I did at the restaurant. One day I made the mistake of suggesting to Dad that he 10 give me $10 a week. He said, “OK. How about you paying me for three meals a day you have here? And for the times you bring in your friends 11 free soft drinks?” He 12 the amount of money I owed him, about $40 a week.
I remember returning to Seattle after being 13 in the US Army for about two years. I had just been promoted to Captain at that time. And full of pride, I walked into my parents' restaurant, but the 14 thing Dad said was, “How about your 15 up tonight?” I couldn't 16 my ears! I am an officer in the Army! But 17 didn't matter. As far as Dad was concerned, I was just 18 member of the team. I reached for the mop(拖把).Working for Dad has taught me that the devotion to a 19 is above all. It has nothing to do with 20 that team is for a family restaurant or the US Army.
