My unforgettable lesson about listening happened on a very hot August day in south Mississippi, where I was working in a seed, feed and fertilizer warehouse. My co-workers had gone for a lunch break, yet as a 15-year-old I was sure I could take care of customers easily.

A pickup truck backed up to the loading ramp. Standing as tall as I could, I asked the driver if I could help him.

Yep, he answered, and told me his order.

I had two choices. Needing to deliver 10 100-pound sacks of fertilizer, I could have made two trips with the carrier we called a dolly. But the ego of youth won out, and I loaded all 10 sacks, wheeled them to the front, and dumped each one into the back of his pickup truck.

Anything else, sir? I asked with a bit of a swagger.

Sure is, boy. Take ’em all back.

Why, what’s wrong? I wondered.

Son, I ordered 10 pounds of fertilizer, not 10 sacks.

Then he explained why he hadn’t stopped me when he saw my mistake: “Young fella, right now you might hate me for letting you unload all those sacks. But I’m ornery enough to believe you’ll listen to instructions a lot more carefully from now on before you start a job.”

He was right about my anger. As you can guess, I was fuming inwardly. I felt the blood throbbing in my temples, and I was too short of breath to answer.

Now, all these years later I value what he taught me. That customer’s lesson has helped me when I heard professors give assignments, taken travel directions, had weekly meetings with bosses and listened to prospective clients describe their needs.

You’re long gone, old farmer, and I never knew your name. Yet your lesson about listening still helps me get things right the first time.

Bill Lampton
Gainesville

Send a letter to the editor or email letters@gainesvilletimes.com