For the work as elevator boy I was paid three dollars a week.
Wasn't that great pay for a man grown? But that's what I got.

That is, I got it for a little while, until I lost my job. For
lose it I did before very long. I found out that I couldn't do
much with even an elevator boy's job at three dollars a week
unless I could talk. My employer found it out, too, and then he
found somebody who could take my place--a boy who could answer
when spoken to.

Well, here I was out of a job again. I am afraid I came pretty
near being discouraged about that time. Things looked pretty
hopeless for me--it was mighty hard work to get a job and the
place didn't last long after I had gotten it.

But, nevertheless, the only thing to do was to try again. I
started the search all over again. I tried first one place and
then another. One man wanted me to start out as a salesman. He
showed me how I could make more money than I had ever made in my
life--convinced me that I could make it. Then I started to tell my
part of the story--but I didn't get very far before he discovered
that I was a stammerer. That was enough for him--with a gesture of
hopelessness, he turned to his desk. "You'll never do, young man,
you'll never do. You can't even talk!" And the worst of it was
that he was right.

I once thought I had landed a job as stock chaser in a factory,
but here, too, stammering barred the way, for they told me that
even the stock chaser had to be able to deliver verbal messages
from one foreman to another. I didn't dare to try that.