While watching the news yesterday, I saw a feature on summer jobs and college kids which (as is quite common with me) caused me to remember an incident from my own past.

The summer after I graduated from college, I was in need of a job. I had previously worked for the summer camps or gone back home to work at Alice’s Restaurant (I kid you not). That particular summer, though, I was ineligible to work the summer camps (having graduated) and really didn’t feel like washing dishes all summer long. What I ended up getting was a little bit unusual.

I found an job listing looking for an intern graphics designer/draftsman. The location was a small town about 3 hours to the south of where I was, and seeing as how I had everything packed into storage, I had no problem moving. So I sent my resume out, and ended up getting the job.

The unusual part was that it was in a monastery. A small enclave of monks--The Order of St. Brendan-- was in need of a few extra artists to help with the business end of their order. The main tenet of the Order is the aid of travelers. Way back when, they would erect way-stations for travelers, keep hay and water available in them, and a small supply of non-perishable rations. In this way they served their duty to their Lord by serving their fellow man (I was a stranger, and you took me in…Inasmuch as you have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, you have done it unto me. Matthew 25:35, 40)

With the advent of modern society and AAA, their duties were severely curtailed. They also found themselves with a shortage of funding. In a rather brilliant business move, the Order “shifted their paradigm” and began to help travelers in another way--by designing an printing maps. These maps were of local areas rather than states or countries. They took contracts from local tourist bureaus, municipalities and special interest groups (like the Scout camp outside of town).

The brothers were very pleasant to work for, and somewhat more liberal than I would have expected from monks. They were, however, meticulous about deadlines, accuracy, and proper behavior in the office. In the ‘old days’ a monk who broke the rules was locked in his cell for the day, deprived of his daily meals, and instructed to do penance for his deeds. With the coming of the modern age, this practice, too, was altered. The concept remained, while the implementation changed. Rather than actually locking the brother into his cell (now called an apartment or suite) a silver skeleton key on a long chain was placed around the brother’s neck. He was then not allowed to talk with the other monks (except for precise matters of business), was deprived of any meat dishes, desert, and flavored beverages (only water was allowed), and was still required to do penance. It was a rather more humane way of doing things, and still served it’s purpose. Failure to do a proper penance was grounds for some rather severe disciplinary action. And the penance had to be done by sun-down (or quitting time) on that day.

When the Order hired non-monastic employees to fill out their work force, the extended this practice to the secular workers. At first it was a rather strange punishment, but it did its job. We soon learned to modify our behavior so as not to get the “monk’s key” as we called it. Spending all of our work time bending over drafting tables, we got into the habit of flipping the key so it hung down our backs. Several of the monks disliked this practice, but our supervisor--Brother Ambrose-- decided that is showed no disrespect, and let it go. Brother Ambrose was cool.

Now, one of the guys I worked with--another secular like myself--was Eddie. Eddie was our “problem child”. He wasn’t intentionally malicious, but rather forgot his manners, or his language, at times, and ended up with the “key”. The hardest part about Eddie getting the Key was doing penance. Eddie--or Edward, as the brothers insisted on calling him--wasn’t very religious. So saying prayers wasn’t an applicable penance for him. He usually ended up having to scrub the printing presses, or clean the bathrooms or such. Occasionally, he was sent to Mother Catherine.

The Order also had a contingent of nuns. They dealt with the money and business end of the business while the brothers did the production work. The monks would refer to them as “the Habits”--with all the associated references to “bad habits” and so on. The Brothers of Saint Brendan definitely believed in the Laughing Jesus--a fact for which I was grateful. Mother Catherine was the de-facto VP of the Order’s business, and was in charge of all the money. Any new expenditures (no matter how small) had to get the approval of the Mother Superior. Getting this approval was not an easy task. Mother Catherine kept a very tight rein on the Order’s finances. Brother Ambrose referred to the task of getting money as “kicking the coins from Catherine’s purse”. When leaving the studio, he’d often explain that he was “going to do some kicking”. And, charmer that he was, Brother Ambrose was usually successful.

As a new type of penance for Eddie--and to teach him some more of the business; Eddie had great potential--Brother Ambrose had started sending Eddie to requisition funds from Mother Catherine.

I distinctly remember one day late in the summer. Eddie had been acting rather strange; he had been ‘keyed’ but had tucked it into the back of his shirt when working with press #1 to keep from getting it caught in the machinery. I hadn’t realized this. On top of it, we were having problems with press #1--it was old and temperamental--and were running seriously behind. Eddie had lost track of the time because of this and hadn’t done any penance. Because of his record of rules violations, a major slip-up like that would cost him his job. From across the room, I saw Eddie talking to Brother Ambrose--and looking almost ill. Brother Ambrose sent Eddie running off somewhere. Curious, and concerned for Eddie, I went over to Brother Ambrose and asked where Eddie went.

“I sent him to buy a pencil.”

“Okay.” I didn’t think I wanted to know the explanation. “What’s wrong with him, he didn’t look well.” Brother Ambrose nodded. “He’s got a monk-key on his back.” Glancing at the clock I realized the implications. But Brother Ambrose reassured me, “It’s okay, he’s going to kick the habit.”