Typewriter

  When I think of the word "typewriter", many things come to mind.  The first thing I ever wrote was on a Royal typewriter.  It was a TV commercial for a cereal, when I was five.  The ad agency said I showed promise, but they wouldn't use it.  My father had to show me which buttons to press on the typewriter. Later, my parents gave me a typewriter for a high school graduation present.  It was a Smith-Corona manual typewriter.  I used it until it finally gave out in the 2000's.  I wrote a lot of papers on that typewriter, and I learned how to edit my typing by thinking a couple of sentences ahead.  I even took a typewriting class at a local business school.  I was never really fast and just ended up typing with four fingers. 

 My mother wanted to sell our old Royal typewriter to a college student.  They had acquired it probably back in the 1940's or maybe earlier.  It was really an antique, but she felt that someone else could use it.  She put a notice on the bulletin board at Carolina and that she wanted $20 for it.  This was back in the 1980s.  An Indian student called her and expressed an interest in the typewriter. They agreed to meet in the lobby of a downtown hotel to finalize the transaction.  I went with Mother to the hotel.  

 At the appointed time, the student arrived to look at the typewriter.  He wasn't impressed with it.  In fact, he told her that it was something he didn't expect to see.  The boy said he would give her $10.  My mother was a little miffed, because she thought they had a deal at $20.  Just then, a local TV personality named Joe Pinner walked into the hotel on the way to the dining room for lunch.  My mother said, "Well hello Joe"! She didn't really know him, but she watched him on TV and felt like she knew him.  Joe graciously replied, "Hello, my dear".  The Indian boy's mouth dropped open.  He knew who Joe Pinner was, and he assumed that my mother knew Joe.  The boy gave my mother the $20 and went away impressed.

 Years later, I told Joe that story. I told him that he was responsible for my mother selling the typewriter.  We laughed about it, and he said, with a smile on his face, that he wanted a commission for the sold typewriter.  Whenever I would see him out and about, he would ask me where his commission was?  Then, we would laugh once again.  Thanks, Joe.