I learned yesterday that the first boss I ever had died. I was talking to my mother and names came up, as they do, and I searched for Danny for the first time in a while. In my teen years I worked in a bowling alleys around Toronto, and I followed Danny DeFrancesco around as he moved to bigger and bigger ones, eventually ending up at Thorncliffe Bowlerama.

Danny was a great guy and he was one of the first in a series of surrogate fathers I had after mine left. This is what you do when you’re missing a parent–look around in your life and find people and ways to replace them. It doesn’t always work, but with Danny it did. When I moved back to Toronto I actually tried to find him, but most of the Bowlerama’s were closed and I had no luck.

Danny hired me because my brother was working at for him, and I used to come down with my mother to pick him up. To this day I haven’t forgotten some of the lessons he taught me.

You’re More Than One Thing

My brother was a pin chaser a name that, back in the day, meant you picked up the fallen pins after a shot and reset everything after a frame. This is all done mechanically now, so pin chasers are really more of a light weight mechanic and caretaker/cleaner these days.

Me? I did that too–it’s a core bowling alley job but I also ran the snack bar sometimes which included cooking fairly simple, straightforward meals. I eventually wound up working the customer facing counter too.

If you know me, this probably isn’t surprising: I have a kinetic, curious brain and I’ve never liked being pigeon holed in one narrowly defined role. I might be better at one thing than another, but I’m not defined by that one thing.

It’s Not My Job Isn’t a Thing

I remember once walking past a lane with a full ashtray (remember smoking indoors? It was awful) and I left it sitting there. Danny asked me to empty it and I said “I’m working the snack bar tonight, it’s not my job.”

This, as it turns out, was not the correct answer.

It takes a team to run a place like that, and the notion that something wasn’t your job wasn’t a part of it. Again, you might not be primarily responsible for something. It probably wouldn’t be a good idea for the snack bar guy to be fixing greasy machines, but if you can pitch in and help pitch in and help. Success is everyone’s job.

Tolerance, or, Letting People be People

At Thorncliffe–the largest bowling centre in Toronto at the time–I basically worked as the Assistant Manager of the five pin side. (A technology side note: our lane management system used these old DEC VAX terminals, and it had a sort of NASA feel to it. It was cool.)

Eventually, Danny asked me if I’d work the Friday night ten pin shift. It seemed a bit weird but there was a good reason: there was a huge bowling league of gay men that played on Fridays and to say that a lot of the teenaged guys working at Thorncliffe didn’t like it is an understatement. The comments they made were gross even by mid-1980s teenager standards. Some of the managers, mostly men in the mid-30s to 40s, made similar comments.

So, I worked every Friday night for a long time. Unsurprisingly, the folks running that league were nice, and friendly and…just people. I learned a lot about just letting people be people and treating them with respect.

This wasn’t the only way I learned this lesson: my mother taught mentally and physically handicapped kids for 30 years, so maybe it started there but in a work context it really sunk in at Thorncliffe.

Loyalty is Valuable

Danny left Cedarbrae Bowlerama, which is where I first worked with him. In the end, I followed him around to a couple of other places and kept working with him. The loyalty was mutual: he always had my back. I remember one night there was an accident on the machines and someone’s finger got cut pretty badly. It wasn’t technically my fault (proper safety procedures weren’t followed) but that didn’t make me feel any better. Danny was incredibly supportive, and had my back.

These Lessons Live with me Today

I haven’t been a pin chaser for a long time at this point. Truth be told, I don’t love bowling but it will always have a place close to my heart thanks to Danny. (Vaguely related aside: The Big Lebowski was, in my life, something of an eerily accurate documentary. The Kenny Rogers tunes didn’t hurt.)

To this day though these things form some of my core beliefs: I don’t like the notion that people think you’re either a technical resource or a business reasource; I like working in open, friendly teams, supportive teams where people are encouraged to participate and I’ve got less and less time for intolerance every day in a world where it’s becoming more problematic.

I’m not perfect, of course, but I try to remember these things. I hope I succeed more than I fail.

I miss Danny.