We had many “interesting” people as our customers, across fifteen territories and three states. I have already mentioned a few of them in earlier columns.

One fellow owned a concrete supply and hardware business in a small town south of Macon. He bought a lot, and always paid on time, so we were always glad to see his orders come in. He had a very unusual name, though, which I did not realize until I was pressed into service running the credit dept., after I got out of college, and started seeing the signatures on the customers’ checks come in each month.

This fellow’s name was “Willie 5/8” xxxxx. He signed his check “5/8 xxxxx.”

While passing through that town one day, I stopped by to ask him, how in the world did he get that name?”

“My parents gave it to me,” he said. “Oh,” I replied. And that was the end of that. Interestingly, his wife owned a jewelry shop in a small building next to his hardware store/concrete business. I’d never seen a combination like that before! Life is full of surprises. I guess it worked for them. And that’s all that mattered.

Another customer with an unusual name was another long-time account in a small town, this one in South Carolina. Valentine’s Store was in a small building in a little town called Cope, SC. Mr. Valentine also had a cotton gin, and his businesses were a mainstay of this tiny rural farming community.

I could not help but wonder, when I was in charge of credit and collections, and saw their checks come in each month, signed by “Henry Ella Valentine,” what that was about. I believe I had the opportunity to speak with her on the phone one day, and asked the question, how did she get that name?

“When I was about to be born, my dad had wanted a boy, and my mom thought that I was going to be one, so they named me “Henry” before I showed up and proved them wrong! So they kept the ‘Henry,’ and just added ‘Ella,’” she said.Life is full of surprises! That store is now a small museum, open on weekends, showing what life was like, in a small town, many years ago.

Another surprise, of a different sort altogether, was a small country store out in the boondocks, west of Augusta. Our salesman only went by once a quarter, but he always brought back a $1500 order. The customer had been on our books for many years, and always eventually paid, although I finally realized the checks only came in the next time the salesman went by to get another order.

“He don’t like to mail checks,” was the reason given, when I asked. “And I only go by there every three months or so,” the salesman said. So I followed prior custom and let things ride.

I did not find out, until I went to close the company, some years later, and worked on collecting our final accounts receivable myself, what the true story was. I drove out to see several slow-paying customers, in hopes of getting checks from them, and found this customer, way out in the country. It looked like something from the 1930’s, before automobiles became common. The floor was dirt, the lighting dim, the meat cases open and flies buzzed around. I was horrified to find we routinely had $1500 worth of goods in this store. Fortunately, I got the check I came for, but did not tell the owner that would be the last order he ever got from us.

I later found out he’d closed that store and went to work as a corrections officer at a nearby state prison. I felt so sorry for him, and his obvious lack of opportunity. Born in the wrong place, at the wrong time, and just tried to make the best of the lousy hand Life had dealt him.

Life is hard. Some have it worse than we do. Compassion is always called for.

Rafe Semmes is a Savannah native and UGA graduate. He lives in Midway with his wife and some cats.