Robert E. Thompson Jr., 29, agreed to plead guilty to attempted theft and theft in connections with three incidents at Dick's Sporting Good locations in 2022.

Man charged in 2022 Dick’s Sporting Goods thefts negotiates plea deal

DICK's Sporting Goods stock is down nearly -25% after missing earnings estimates and cutting guidance. Learn why DKS is still not in the bargain bin.

DICK's Sporting Goods: Still Not Quite In The Bargain Bin

DICK'S faces industry challenges with disappointing earnings, inventory shrinkage, rising costs, and Nike's DTC trend impact. Read more on DKS stock here.

DICK'S Sporting Goods: Tackling Industry Challenges Amidst Alarming Retail Trends

East Palestine City Schools athletics is dodging serious cuts with help from a grant gifted by Dick's Sporting Goods.

Dick's Sporting Goods helps East Palestine City Schools dodge athletic cuts with surprise grant

If you or someone on your holiday list is a big fan of tossing around the ol’ pigskin or just needs a new pair of sneakers, head on over to Dick’s Sporting Goods. There, you’ll find shoes, exercise outfits,

Save 50% Off Top Brands at Dick's Sporting Goods Early Black Friday Sale

Fall is just getting started, and what better way to gear up for shorter days and longer nights than with a fresh batch of savings at Dick’s Sporting Goods. This sale at Dick’s means up to 75% off your favorite brand names,

Dick’s Sporting Goods: Take Up to 75% Off Apparel, Footwear and Gear

Whether you enjoy playing summer or winter sports or like to stay active year-round, you’ll want to shop the Black Friday sale at Dick’s Sporting Goods.

Best Dick’s Sporting Goods Black Friday deals 2023

As sports fans race to buy merchandise to support the DBacks, Dick's Sporting Goods has announced extended store hours at selected Phoenix stores to celebrate the Diamondbacks and to ensure that fans have every opportunity to gear up and show their ...

Dick's Sporting Goods hours extended for fans looking to snag DBacks merchandise

Dick’s Sporting Goods is holding extended store hours at locations across the Valley for Arizona Diamondbacks fans to buy NLCS merchandise.

Dick's Sporting Goods holding extended hours for D-backs fans to buy NLCS merchandise

A national sporting goods retailer has chosen a site for its second Metro East location. Dick’s Sporting Goods is the second major retail store to sign a lease at the new Orchard Town Center ...

National sporting-goods retailer signs on for second store in Metro East

Get the most recent info and news about Dick's Sporting Goods on HackerNoon, where 10k+ technologists publish stories for 4M+ monthly readers.

Dick's Sporting Goods

One of the major factors for improving product buy-ability in shopper’s journey is offering a competitive price. Experts analyzed product pricing data on the first page of Google Shopping Search Results, for highly competitive keywords, during the month of February 2021. Total SKUs Found: 3,475 Brands Total Sellers: 2,500 SKUs Total Brands: 374 Total Price Changes: 20,000 Top Retailers and Competitors eBay is the top retailer carrying products with the highest visibility in Google Shopping SERP with over 1000 products. DICK’S Sporting Goods, Walmart, Baseball Savings.com, and Scheels are amongst other top 5 retailers carrying those products. Also, we found eBay was the retailer with the greatest number of price changes in 1,000 products. However, the most competitive retailer competing in the “Sports & Outdoors” Market was Baseball Express, with over 8% of the price changes on less than 250 products. Meaning, they were changing their prices much more aggressively than their competitors. Most Visible Brands Based on the pricing data collected, Nike was the top brand visible with 158 products, followed by Easton, with 113 products. Rawlings was found to be the most price-competitive brand but have less product visibility. Rawlings was the brand with the most aggressive price change strategy, as they had 7% of the total price changes on just 84 SKUs. The price change data showed that some of the brands with less product visibility have high price fluctuations. Most Competitive Price Range Our Pricing analysis showed that the majority of price changes occurred between ranges of $0-$50, with 32% of price changes on 648 distinct SKUs. The price range between $50-$100 was found to be the most competitive, with 18% of price changes occurring on 17% of distinct SKUs. The least competitive price range was $0-$50. This range had 34% of sports & outdoors products, but only 32% of total price changes. The price ranges between $200-$500 seemed to have fewer price changes, and a smaller number of products, leading to less competition in comparison to other price ranges. Best Deals for Shoppers We found eBay as the retailer to offer the best deals with the lowest prices on 40% of products. After eBay, DICK’s Sporting Goods provided good deals for customers, with the lowest prices on 21% of their products, followed by Baseball Savings.com, Walmart, and Wish. Best Weekday for Shoppers As per the product pricing analysis for the most competitive day of the week, we found that Tuesday was the best day for the availability of the lower-priced Sports & Outdoors products. Prices were lowered 58% of the time while being raised 42% of the time compared on Tuesdays. Monday was found to be the day of the week with the highest rate of raised prices (62%) and lowered only 38% of the time. Also, we found that prices were raised more often during weekdays and lowered more often on the weekends. Top Products Carried by Most Sellers Here are the top 5 most visible products in in the Sports & Outdoor Category. Google Shopping SERP The data regarding the retailers and brands were examined through to have a holistic view based on SKU Count, level of competition, price ranges, high priced and low priced SKUs, and most competitive day of the week for the retailers in ‘Sports & Outdoors’ category. product intelligence tool

Google Shopping Market Analysis of Sports & Outdoors

We've all had big ambitions that felt impossible. From the time we were kids, we start dreaming for realities just out of our reach – like running away from home and living in a treehouse in the woods (or was that just me?) But as we get older, those dreams start to change. We want to score a job role that we're not qualified for. We want to bootstrap a company with hardly any money. We want to be our own boss and have the lifestyle to match it. When our ambitions get bigger, the actions we need to take to make those dreams come true start to feel insurmountable; some of us give up before we've even started. But what if there was a foolproof way to break through the barriers between where we are now and where we want to be? Chris Upperman grew up as part of the lower-middle class. He wasn't born into money or privilege, but through a serendipitous combination of grit, resilience, and opportunity, he's now the Manager of Governance & Strategic Initiatives for Facebook – and before that, he worked in the Obama administration as well as on the Biden Harris transition team. Alongside his incredible work ethic and resilience, Chris opened doors that he never would have thought possible by employing a genius strategy: he found himself an ecosystem. Let's talk about it. What's An Ecosystem? We've all heard the term 'networking' before. It's been overused in the business world, bringing to mind images of self-important people working a room full of strangers. But networking doesn't have to be icky – and it's definitely not just for extroverts. That's why lots of people refer to networking as 'ecosystem building.' It's a way of finding the people, places, and resources that can help you achieve your goals. To find your ecosystem is to build relationships with others who have something to offer, whether that be advice, mentorship, contacts, or opportunities. I on LinkedIn the other day. Author Rina Ong-Liebnitz, one of the senior execs at Gartner, describes ecosystems so eloquently: came across this article "I am reminded of those wonderful stories about the lone villager who went out and planted a tree every day and eventually reforested an entire mountain. We need to do the same in building our connections ... Every little bit of effort we put into connecting with others increases the odds that some will take root." Chris Upperman's Journey to Facebook The reason I share about ecosystem building is that Chris Upperman – the inspiration of today's newsletter, and one of my from last year – launched his career by finding and planting himself in the right ecosystem. podcast guests But it wasn't a simple start. Coming from a low socio-economic background and having limited access to opportunities, Chris had a lot of challenges and roadblocks early on. He still marvels at where he is in his career today, and how he got there. “I just honestly couldn't believe that I'd be at a place such as this. If you go through the arc of my resume – my accomplishments and things – and what it doesn't show is all the ups and downs. The challenges. Resilience has played a key factor in all of these things.” Though Chris didn't grow up with money or access, he was raised to know two things: one, high effort equals high reward; and two, look for the opportunities you want. “I come from a very solidly middle class; some would consider it lower middle class. My dad was in the Navy, my mother became a school bus driver for the local school district that I was in, and my brother and I did a lot of service in the community that I grew up in.” Chris knew what it meant to work, and work hard; he worked from the time he was in school and all throughout college, until landing his first job at the Bank of America. From Wall Street to Congress The 2008 economic recession hit the financial sector hard – you remember. It was utter chaos. Many people lost their jobs, and those who kept theirs were working long hours for little pay. It was during this time that Chris began to consider a different path. “As I finished my undergrad studies, I was working at Bank of America. This was going right into the economic recession; I could see the writing on the wall.” Going in to work every day, Chris was growing more and more impatient with the lack of proactivity he saw. He wanted to branch out and escape the crisis – but where? And what? “At the same time, Barack Obama was running for office. It's no secret that not a lot of black people at that time believed a black man could actually become a president. And so I was very inspired by him; I knew that there was an opportunity.” Here I really got to understand Chris's opportunist side. The 2008 recession was so devastating that most people were doing anything they could to stay secure – even if that meant being paid a little less in order to keep your job, or working longer hours. Chris took a leap of faith at the scariest possible time to do so. "Obama gets elected, and it's like, whoa, okay. This is a real thing. Something laid on my heart to move to DC. So I moved to DC and applied to the White House Internship Program.” Opportunities in the Mail Room The 'White House Internship Program' wasn't exactly a glamorous position. In fact, it was quite the opposite – an entry-level job in the mail room. But for Chris, this was his ticket into a world of opportunity. He wanted to get involved in that world, and an unpaid internship was his ticket. Colleagues weren't so supportive; it seemed as though he was the only one (aside from his partner and parents) who believed this was a good move. “I came into the job that I had at the time, and people were like, ‘Come on. That's for other people. It's Washington, DC – you don't have any connections.’” Now, here's a crucial point in the story. Chris did not have any connections, it's true, but that was exactly why he saw this as such a great opportunity. He was coming in with no preconceptions, no expectations, and no baggage. He simply wanted to immerse himself in the ecosystem. “I did not get into the White House Internship Program immediately; I got an Associate Program, which is like a sub tier. That was a pivotal moment, both professionally and personally, because I basically threw caution to the wind. I trusted my gut.” Inside the Government Ecosystem Chris made an incredibly smart move by taking the mailroom position, even if it probably felt like a demotion at the time. “I did four months in this associate program in the mailroom. There was no salary. They said, ‘hey, we got some mail that we still have to sort – are you willing to be willing to take that?’ And I said, ‘Yes, I'm willing to take that.’ And that was a really pivotal moment, because I got my foot in the door.” But this wasn't just an aimless attempt at getting into the government. Chris had a long-term plan to give back to his community. “The government at times isn't responsive, and so the dream was that I would have the ability to take [responses] back to everybody. My parents raised me to be conscious of my community, and to be conscious of those who are not fortunate enough to be able to influence things that they are going to experience.” The Work Pays Off Four months in a mailroom is a long time, but it was worth the wait for Chris. He spent valuable time reaching out to network with different people who could help him achieve his goals. “My wife helped me purchase a set of golf clubs from Dick's Sporting Goods. I got my navy blazer with a gold buttons, super cringe and stereotypical and cheesy. I go to these places and meet these people and start playing golf. And I started to get calls on my cell phone.” Just like that, Chris was put in touch with one of the most influential people in his circles – someone who could propel his career forward. “At the time, there was this woman who was on Capitol Hill, and a lot of young black professionals that come through Washington DC eventually meet this woman. You kind of gotta go through this woman so that she can size you up and figure out where you should go.” The woman Chris referred to is Congresswoman Eleanor Holmes Norton. She's considered almost a 'godmother' for black professionals in D.C.; she's a mentor, a professional, and an incredible resource. Chris got a meeting with her unexpectedly, and things began to move quickly from there. “Next day, I got a call to interview in several members of Congress office. It worked just like that. It really worked just like that.” The Ecosystem Broadens From that point onward, Chris was able to work in multiple areas of Congress and connect with different people who helped him learn and grow. "I worked for Congresswoman Eleanor Holmes Norton; I worked initially in her district office before getting to her legislative office and being an aide to her, traveling around DC and going to speaking events and meetings and things of that nature.” For Chris, this was so close to his dream. He was witnessing what it meant to have an influential voice. Soon enough, he was able to be an influential voice himself. “I had a small team of volunteers that were very committed to the students of America and reading letters. Some of those letters got up to President Obama. I was able to draft letters on behalf of the President to go back to the students and young citizens.” What a powerful journey. Chris went from being a lowly mailroom worker to a presidential aide – all because he had a vision for the change he wanted to make in the world, and he sought out the people and opportunities that would get him there. “I don't come from a family of politics. I absolutely don't come from the White House and Congress, Capitol hills, foreign dignitaries, Cabinet Secretaries. But for the last 13-14 years, there have been moments where I've actually been in front of audiences and telling them how to engage with your member of Congress so that they can hear your voice.” Then to Now Eventually, Chris moved into other areas; he dabbled in HR and admin, advisory positions, and even branched out to work in the entrepreneurial space and being involved with the Obama Foundation’s My Brother’s Keeper Alliance. “Then Facebook reached out. I started getting recruited to think about governance and Facebook's impact on society and society's impact on Facebook.” This was something completely new for Chris, but he couldn't ignore the appeal of influencing change at such a large company. Fast-forward to now, and he's Facebook's Manager of Governance & Strategic Initiatives. “The dream was to give back, and to be engaged in this civic engagement ecosystem. And the dream on top of that was to bring that back to the communities that matter most to me.” The Take-Home Message There's no doubt that Chris is an outstanding individual with a great work ethic and resilience to boot. But what's even more inspiring is that he didn't just stumble into these amazing opportunities – he actively sought them out. If you've got big dreams, it's important to find your ecosystem. Whether that means moving to a new city, joining a professional organization, or attending events and networking like crazy, put yourself in the path of opportunity. You never know who you'll meet or what might come from it. “When you get that call, be ready to act. Be in those ecosystems. If you want to get into Wall Street and you want to get into banking, you got to move to New York – you just got to do it.” I hope you found this story as inspirational as I did. If you're interested in hearing the full story, check it out . Thanks for reading! here on the podcast Also Published here

How Finding Your People Can Help You Achieve Your Big Dreams

Kite or Board?

¿Cometa o tabla?

Cerf-volant ou planche ?

पतंग या बोर्ड?

カイトかボードか？

Kite ou prancha?

Diều hay ván?

风筝还是木板？

The Beautiful and Damned: Book I, Chapter III - The Connoisseur of Kisses

The Go-Getter: A Story That Tells You How to be One by Peter B. Kyne is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book . II here II The President emeritus of the Ricks' interests was not destined to uninterrupted cogitation, however. Within ten minutes his private exchange operator called him to the telephone. "What is it?" Cappy yelled into the transmitter. "There is a young man in the general office. His name is Mr. William E. Peck and he desires to see you personally." Cappy sighed. "Very well," he replied. "Have him shown in." Almost immediately the office boy ushered Mr. Peck into Cappy's presence. The moment he was fairly inside the door the visitor halted, came easily and naturally to "attention" and bowed respectfully, while the cool glance of his keen blue eyes held steadily the autocrat of the Blue Star Navigation Company. "Mr. Ricks, Peck is my name, sir--William E. Peck. Thank you, sir, for acceding to my request for an interview." "Ahem! Hum-m-m!" Cappy looked belligerent. "Sit down, Mr. Peck." Mr. Peck sat down, but as he crossed to the chair beside Cappy's desk, the old gentleman noticed that his visitor walked with a slight limp, and that his left forearm had been amputated half way to the elbow. To the observant Cappy, the American Legion button in Mr. Peck's lapel told the story. "Well, Mr. Peck," he queried gently, "what can I do for you?" "I've called for my job," the veteran replied briefly. "By the Holy Pink-toed Prophet!" Cappy ejaculated, "you say that like a man who doesn't expect to be refused." "Quite right, sir. I do not anticipate a refusal." "Why?" Mr. William E. Peck's engaging but somewhat plain features rippled into the most compelling smile Cappy Ricks had ever seen. "I am a salesman, Mr. Ricks," he replied. "I know that statement to be true because I have demonstrated, over a period of five years, that I can sell my share of anything that has a hockable value. I have always found, however, that before proceeding to sell goods I had to sell the manufacturer of those goods something, to-wit--myself! I am about to sell myself to you." "Son," said Cappy smilingly, "you win. You've sold me already. When did they sell you a membership in the military forces of the United States of America?" "On the morning of April 7th, 1917, sir." "That clinches our sale. I soldiered with the Knights of Columbus at Camp Kearny myself, but when they refused to let me go abroad with my division my heart was broken, so I went over the hill." That little touch of the language of the line appeared to warm Mr. Peck's heart considerably, establishing at once a free masonry between them. "I was with the Portland Lumber Company, selling lumber in the Middle West before the war," he explained. "Uncle Sam gave me my sheepskin at Letter-man General Hospital last week, with half disability on my ten thousand dollars' worth of government insurance. Whittling my wing was a mere trifle, but my broken leg was a long time mending, and now it's shorter than it really ought to be. And I developed pneumonia with influenza and they found some T.B. indications after that. I've been at the government tuberculosis hospital at Fort Bayard, New Mexico, for a year. However, what's left of me is certified to be sound. I've got five inches chest expansion and I feel fine." "Not at all blue or discouraged?" Cappy hazarded. "Oh, I got off easy, Mr. Ricks. I have my head left--and my right arm. I can think and I can write, and even if one of my wheels is flat, I can hike longer and faster after an order than most. Got a job for me, Mr. Ricks?" "No, I haven't, Mr. Peck. I'm out of it, you know. Retired ten years ago. This office is merely a headquarters for social frivolity--a place to get my mail and mill over the gossip of the street. Our Mr. Skinner is the chap you should see." "I have seen Mr. Skinner, sir," the erstwhile warrior replied, "but he wasn't very sympathetic. I think he jumped to the conclusion that I was attempting to trade him my empty sleeve. He informed me that there wasn't sufficient business to keep his present staff of salesmen busy, so then I told him I'd take anything, from stenographer up. I'm the champion one-handed typist of the United States Army. I can tally lumber and bill it. I can keep books and answer the telephone." "No encouragement, eh?" "No, sir." "Well, now, son," Cappy informed his cheerful visitor confidentially, "you take my tip and see my son-in-law, Captain Peasley. He's high, low and jack-in-the-game in the shipping end of our business." "I have also interviewed Captain Peasley. He was very kind. He said he felt that he owed me a job, but business is so bad he couldn't make a place for me. He told me he is now carrying a dozen ex-service men merely because he hasn't the heart to let them go. I believe him." "Well, my dear boy--my dear young friend! Why do you come to me?" "Because," Mr. Peck replied smilingly, "I want you to go over their heads and give me a job. I don't care a hoot what it is, provided I can do it. If I can do it, I'll do it better than it was ever done before, and if I can't do that I'll quit to save you the embarrassment of firing me. I'm not an object of charity, but I'm scarcely the man I used to be and I'm four years behind the procession and have to catch up. I have the best of references--" "I see you have," Cappy cut in blandly, and pressed the push-button on his desk. Mr. Skinner entered. He glanced disapprovingly at William E. Peck and then turned inquiring eyes toward Cappy Ricks. "Skinner, dear boy," Cappy purred amiably, "I've been thinking over the proposition to send Andrews out to the Shanghai office, and I've come to this conclusion. We'll have to take a chance. At the present time that office is in charge of a stenographer, and we've got to get a manager on the job without further loss of time. So I'll tell you what we'll do. We'll send Andrews out on the next boat, but inform him that his position is temporary. Then if he doesn't make good out there we can take him back into this office, where he is a most valuable man. Meanwhile--ahem! hum-m-m! Harumph!--meanwhile, you'd oblige me greatly, Skinner, my dear boy, if you would consent to take this young man into your office and give him a good work-out to see the stuff he's made of. As a favor to me, Skinner, my dear boy, as a favor to me." Mr. Skinner, in the language of the sporting world, was down for the count--and knew it. Young Mr. Peck knew it too, and smiled graciously upon the general manager, for young Mr. Peck had been in the army, where one of the first great lessons to be assimilated is this: that the commanding general's request is always tantamount to an order. "Very well, sir," Mr. Skinner replied coldly. "Have you arranged the compensation to be given Mr. Peck?" Cappy threw up a deprecating hand. "That detail is entirely up to you, Skinner. Far be it from me to interfere in the internal administration of your department. Naturally you will pay Mr. Peck what he is worth and not a cent more." He turned to the triumphant Peck. "Now, you listen to me, young feller. If you think you're slipping gracefully into a good thing, disabuse your mind of that impression right now. You'll step right up to the plate, my son, and you'll hit the ball fairly on the nose, and you'll do it early and often. The first time you tip a foul, you'll be warned. The second time you do it you'll get a month's lay-off to think it over, and the third time you'll be out--for keeps. Do I make myself clear?" "You do, sir," Mr. Peck declared happily. "All I ask is fighting room and I'll hack my way into Mr. Skinner's heart. Thank you, Mr. Skinner, for consenting to take me on. I appreciate your action very, very much and shall endeavor to be worthy of your confidence." "Young scoundrel! In-fer-nal young scoundrel!" Cappy murmured to himself. "He has a sense of humor, thank God! Ah, poor old narrow-gauge Skinner! If that fellow ever gets a new or unconventional thought in his stodgy head, it'll kill him overnight. He's hopping mad right now, because he can't say a word in his own defense, but if he doesn't make hell look like a summer holiday for Mr. Bill Peck, I'm due to be mercifully chloroformed. Good Lord, how empty life would be if I couldn't butt in and raise a little riot every once in so often." Young Mr. Peck had risen and was standing at attention. "When do I report for duty, sir?" he queried of Mr. Skinner. "Whenever you're ready," Skinner retorted with a wintry smile. Mr. Peck glanced at a cheap wrist watch. "It's twelve o'clock now," he soliloquized aloud. "I'll pop out, wrap myself around some rations and report on the job at one P.M. I might just as well knock out half a day's pay." He glanced at Cappy Ricks and quoted: "Count that day lost whose low descending sun Finds prices shot to glory and business done for fun." Unable to maintain his composure in the face of such levity during office hours, Mr. Skinner withdrew, still wrapped in his sub-Antarctic dignity. As the door closed behind him, Mr. Peck's eyebrows went up in a manner indicative of apprehension. "I'm off to a bad start, Mr. Ricks," he opined. "You only asked for a start," Cappy piped back at him. "I didn't guarantee you a start, and I wouldn't because I can't. I can only drive Skinner and Matt Peasley so far--and no farther. There's always a point at which I quit--er--ah--William." good "More familiarly known as Bill Peck, sir." "Very well, Bill." Cappy slid out to the edge of his chair and peered at Bill Peck balefully over the top of his spectacles. "I'll have my eye on you, young feller," he shrilled. "I freely acknowledge our indebtedness to you, but the day you get the notion in your head that this office is an old soldiers' home--" He paused thoughtfully. "I wonder what Skinner pay you?" he mused. "Oh, well," he continued, whatever it is, take it and say nothing and when the moment is propitious--and provided you've earned it--I'll intercede with the danged old relic and get you a raise." will "Thank you very much, sir. You are most kind. Good-day, sir." And Bill Peck picked up his hat and limped out of The Presence. Scarcely had the door closed behind him than Mr. Skinner re-entered Cappy Ricks' lair. He opened his mouth to speak, but Cappy silenced him with an imperious finger. "Not a peep out of you, Skinner, my dear boy," he chirped amiably. "I know exactly what you're going to say and I admit your right to say it, but--as--ahem! Harumph-h-h!--now, Skinner, listen to reason. How the devil could you have the heart to reject that crippled ex-soldier? There he stood, on one sound leg, with his sleeve tucked into his coat pocket and on his homely face the grin of an unwhipped, unbeatable man. But you--blast your cold, unfeeling soul, Skinner!--looked him in the eye and turned him down like a drunkard turns down near-beer. Skinner, how you do it?" could Undaunted by Cappy's admonitory finger, Mr. Skinner struck a distinctly defiant attitude. "There is no sentiment in business," he replied angrily. "A week ago last Thursday the local posts of the American Legion commenced their organized drive for jobs for their crippled and unemployed comrades, and within three days you've sawed off two hundred and nine such jobs on the various corporations that you control. The gang you shipped up to the mill in Washington has already applied for a charter for a new post to be known as Cappy Ricks Post No. 534. And you had experienced men discharged to make room for these ex-soldiers." "You bet I did," Cappy yelled triumphantly. "It's always Old Home Week in every logging camp and saw-mill in the Northwest for I.W.W.'s and revolutionary communists. I'm sick of their unauthorized strikes and sabotage, and by the Holy Pink-Toed Prophet, Cappy Ricks Post. No. 534, American Legion, is the only sort of back-fire I can think of to put the Wobblies on the run." "Every office and ship and retail yard could be run by a first-sergeant," Skinner complained. "I'm thinking of having reveille and retreat and bugle calls and Saturday morning inspections. I tell you, sir, the Ricks interests have absorbed all the old soldiers possible and at the present moment those interests are overflowing with glory. What we want are workers, not talkers. These ex-soldiers spend too much time fighting their battles over again." "Well, Comrade Peck is the last one I'll ask you to absorb, Skinner," Cappy promised contritely. "Ever read Kipling's Barrack Room Ballads, Skinner?" "I have no time to read," Mr. Skinner protested. "Go up town this minute and buy a copy and read one ballad entitled 'Tommy,'" Cappy barked. "For the good of your immortal soul," he added. "Well, Comrade Peck doesn't make a hit with me, Mr. Ricks. He applied to me for a job and I gave him his answer. Then he went to Captain Matt and was refused, so, just to demonstrate his bad taste, he went over our heads and induced you to pitchfork him into a job. He'll curse the day he was inspired to do that." "Skinner! Skinner! Look me in the eye! Do you know why I asked you to take on Bill Peck?" "I do. Because you're too tender-hearted for your own good." "You unimaginative dunderhead! You jibbering jackdaw! How could I reject a boy who simply would not be rejected? Why, I'll bet a ripe peach that Bill Peck was one of the doggondest finest soldiers you ever saw. He carries his objective. He sized you up just like that, Skinner. He declined to permit you to block him. Skinner, that Peck person has been opposed by experts. Yes, sir--experts! What kind of a job are you going to give him, Skinner, my dear boy?" "Andrews' job, of course." "Oh, yes, I forgot. Skinner, dear boy, haven't we got about half a million feet of skunk spruce to saw off on somebody?" Mr. Skinner nodded and Cappy continued with all the naïve eagerness of one who has just made a marvelous discovery, which he is confident will revolutionize science. "Give him that stinking stuff to peddle, Skinner, and if you can dig up a couple of dozen carloads of red fir or bull pine in transit, or some short or odd-length stock, or some larch ceiling or flooring, or some hemlock random stock--in fact, anything the trade doesn't want as a gift--you get me, don't you, Skinner?" Mr. Skinner smiled his swordfish smile. "And if he fails to make good-- , eh?" au revoir "Yes, I suppose so, although I hate to think about it. On the other hand, if he makes good he's to have Andrews' salary. We must be fair, Skinner. Whatever our faults we must always be fair." He rose and patted the general manager's lean shoulder. "There, there, Skinner, my boy. Forgive me if I've been a trifle--ah--ahem!--precipitate and--er--harumph-h-h! Skinner, if you put a prohibitive price on that skunk fir, by the Holy Pink-toed Prophet, I'll fire you! Be fair, boy, be fair. No dirty work, Skinner. Remember, Comrade Peck has half of his left forearm buried in France." About HackerNoon Book Series: We bring you the most important technical, scientific, and insightful public domain books. This book is part of the public domain. Peter B. Kyne (2004). The Go-Getter: A Story That Tells You How to be One. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/12257/pg12257-images.html This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at , located at . www.gutenberg.org https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html

The President emeritus of the Ricks' interests was not destined to uninterrupted cogitation

Moby-Dick; or The Whale, by Herman Melville is part of HackerNoon’s Book Blog Post series. You can jump to any chapter in this book . Chapter 4: The Counterpane here CHAPTER 4. The Counterpane. Upon waking next morning about daylight, I found Queequeg’s arm thrown over me in the most loving and affectionate manner. You had almost thought I had been his wife. The counterpane was of patchwork, full of odd little parti-coloured squares and triangles; and this arm of his tattooed all over with an interminable Cretan labyrinth of a figure, no two parts of which were of one precise shade—owing I suppose to his keeping his arm at sea unmethodically in sun and shade, his shirt sleeves irregularly rolled up at various times—this same arm of his, I say, looked for all the world like a strip of that same patchwork quilt. Indeed, partly lying on it as the arm did when I first awoke, I could hardly tell it from the quilt, they so blended their hues together; and it was only by the sense of weight and pressure that I could tell that Queequeg was hugging me. My sensations were strange. Let me try to explain them. When I was a child, I well remember a somewhat similar circumstance that befell me; whether it was a reality or a dream, I never could entirely settle. The circumstance was this. I had been cutting up some caper or other—I think it was trying to crawl up the chimney, as I had seen a little sweep do a few days previous; and my stepmother who, somehow or other, was all the time whipping me, or sending me to bed supperless,—my mother dragged me by the legs out of the chimney and packed me off to bed, though it was only two o’clock in the afternoon of the 21st June, the longest day in the year in our hemisphere. I felt dreadfully. But there was no help for it, so up stairs I went to my little room in the third floor, undressed myself as slowly as possible so as to kill time, and with a bitter sigh got between the sheets. I lay there dismally calculating that sixteen entire hours must elapse before I could hope for a resurrection. Sixteen hours in bed! the small of my back ached to think of it. And it was so light too; the sun shining in at the window, and a great rattling of coaches in the streets, and the sound of gay voices all over the house. I felt worse and worse—at last I got up, dressed, and softly going down in my stockinged feet, sought out my stepmother, and suddenly threw myself at her feet, beseeching her as a particular favour to give me a good slippering for my misbehaviour; anything indeed but condemning me to lie abed such an unendurable length of time. But she was the best and most conscientious of stepmothers, and back I had to go to my room. For several hours I lay there broad awake, feeling a great deal worse than I have ever done since, even from the greatest subsequent misfortunes. At last I must have fallen into a troubled nightmare of a doze; and slowly waking from it—half steeped in dreams—I opened my eyes, and the before sun-lit room was now wrapped in outer darkness. Instantly I felt a shock running through all my frame; nothing was to be seen, and nothing was to be heard; but a supernatural hand seemed placed in mine. My arm hung over the counterpane, and the nameless, unimaginable, silent form or phantom, to which the hand belonged, seemed closely seated by my bed-side. For what seemed ages piled on ages, I lay there, frozen with the most awful fears, not daring to drag away my hand; yet ever thinking that if I could but stir it one single inch, the horrid spell would be broken. I knew not how this consciousness at last glided away from me; but waking in the morning, I shudderingly remembered it all, and for days and weeks and months afterwards I lost myself in confounding attempts to explain the mystery. Nay, to this very hour, I often puzzle myself with it. Now, take away the awful fear, and my sensations at feeling the supernatural hand in mine were very similar, in their strangeness, to those which I experienced on waking up and seeing Queequeg’s pagan arm thrown round me. But at length all the past night’s events soberly recurred, one by one, in fixed reality, and then I lay only alive to the comical predicament. For though I tried to move his arm—unlock his bridegroom clasp—yet, sleeping as he was, he still hugged me tightly, as though naught but death should part us twain. I now strove to rouse him—“Queequeg!”—but his only answer was a snore. I then rolled over, my neck feeling as if it were in a horse-collar; and suddenly felt a slight scratch. Throwing aside the counterpane, there lay the tomahawk sleeping by the savage’s side, as if it were a hatchet-faced baby. A pretty pickle, truly, thought I; abed here in a strange house in the broad day, with a cannibal and a tomahawk! “Queequeg!—in the name of goodness, Queequeg, wake!” At length, by dint of much wriggling, and loud and incessant expostulations upon the unbecomingness of his hugging a fellow male in that matrimonial sort of style, I succeeded in extracting a grunt; and presently, he drew back his arm, shook himself all over like a Newfoundland dog just from the water, and sat up in bed, stiff as a pike-staff, looking at me, and rubbing his eyes as if he did not altogether remember how I came to be there, though a dim consciousness of knowing something about me seemed slowly dawning over him. Meanwhile, I lay quietly eyeing him, having no serious misgivings now, and bent upon narrowly observing so curious a creature. When, at last, his mind seemed made up touching the character of his bedfellow, and he became, as it were, reconciled to the fact; he jumped out upon the floor, and by certain signs and sounds gave me to understand that, if it pleased me, he would dress first and then leave me to dress afterwards, leaving the whole apartment to myself. Thinks I, Queequeg, under the circumstances, this is a very civilized overture; but, the truth is, these savages have an innate sense of delicacy, say what you will; it is marvellous how essentially polite they are. I pay this particular compliment to Queequeg, because he treated me with so much civility and consideration, while I was guilty of great rudeness; staring at him from the bed, and watching all his toilette motions; for the time my curiosity getting the better of my breeding. Nevertheless, a man like Queequeg you don’t see every day, he and his ways were well worth unusual regarding. He commenced dressing at top by donning his beaver hat, a very tall one, by the by, and then—still minus his trowsers—he hunted up his boots. What under the heavens he did it for, I cannot tell, but his next movement was to crush himself—boots in hand, and hat on—under the bed; when, from sundry violent gaspings and strainings, I inferred he was hard at work booting himself; though by no law of propriety that I ever heard of, is any man required to be private when putting on his boots. But Queequeg, do you see, was a creature in the transition stage—neither caterpillar nor butterfly. He was just enough civilized to show off his outlandishness in the strangest possible manners. His education was not yet completed. He was an undergraduate. If he had not been a small degree civilized, he very probably would not have troubled himself with boots at all; but then, if he had not been still a savage, he never would have dreamt of getting under the bed to put them on. At last, he emerged with his hat very much dented and crushed down over his eyes, and began creaking and limping about the room, as if, not being much accustomed to boots, his pair of damp, wrinkled cowhide ones—probably not made to order either—rather pinched and tormented him at the first go off of a bitter cold morning. Seeing, now, that there were no curtains to the window, and that the street being very narrow, the house opposite commanded a plain view into the room, and observing more and more the indecorous figure that Queequeg made, staving about with little else but his hat and boots on; I begged him as well as I could, to accelerate his toilet somewhat, and particularly to get into his pantaloons as soon as possible. He complied, and then proceeded to wash himself. At that time in the morning any Christian would have washed his face; but Queequeg, to my amazement, contented himself with restricting his ablutions to his chest, arms, and hands. He then donned his waistcoat, and taking up a piece of hard soap on the wash-stand centre table, dipped it into water and commenced lathering his face. I was watching to see where he kept his razor, when lo and behold, he takes the harpoon from the bed corner, slips out the long wooden stock, unsheathes the head, whets it a little on his boot, and striding up to the bit of mirror against the wall, begins a vigorous scraping, or rather harpooning of his cheeks. Thinks I, Queequeg, this is using Rogers’s best cutlery with a vengeance. Afterwards I wondered the less at this operation when I came to know of what fine steel the head of a harpoon is made, and how exceedingly sharp the long straight edges are always kept. The rest of his toilet was soon achieved, and he proudly marched out of the room, wrapped up in his great pilot monkey jacket, and sporting his harpoon like a marshal’s baton. About HackerNoon Book Series: We bring you the most important technical, scientific, and insightful public domain books. This book is part of the public domain. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved April 2022 from ht Melville, Herman,2001. Moby-Dick: or The Whale. tps://www.gutenberg.org/files/2701/2701-h/2701-h.htm#link2HCH0004 This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at , located at . www.gutenberg.org https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html

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