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It's a little long, but a cute story.
Annie Milner retires after 85 years at Dayton's
Chuck Haga, Star Tribune
Tuesday wasn't Annie Milner's last day at Marshall Field's, or Dayton's, as she still prefers to call the downtown Minneapolis store where she started working after the war -- World War I.
"I have a charge card," she reminded everyone at her retirement party.
Milner was 17 when she started at Dayton's in 1919. She went to the store to buy a sweater. "They were so darn nice to me," she said. "I thought, 'This is more fun than going to school' -- so I quit! My family almost disowned me. And now it's 80 years!"
No, Annie, someone said. You've been working here for 85 years.
"I know," she said, giggling. "I shaved five years off."
Honored as Minnesota's oldest worker in 2002, at age 100, Milner said then that she'd keep working as a special-order locator at Marshall Field's.
"Not working doesn't agree with me," she said.
But she had second thoughts, and now, with her 102nd birthday approaching in June, she's looking forward to retirement.
"Am I sad?" she said, smiling as she repeated the question. "Oh, I'm going to miss the people here. I was always happy in Dayton's. I enjoyed every day I came here for ... I have to add those five years, don't I?
"But I'm going to sleep now -- late every morning. Then I'll get up, get myself fixed up, and I'll go out."
She would change nothing.
"If I were young, I'd want to do the whole thing again."
50 years in furniture
The store sent a limousine for her Tuesday, but for most of those 85 years Milner took the bus to work.
She was born in 1902, the year that George Draper Dayton founded the retail dynasty that would become Dayton's. She started work as a package wrapper and cashier but quickly won promotions, landing in the furniture department.
"All men salesmen," she said, beaming. "And me."
She spent more than a half-century there, then moved to customer service, where through her 80s and 90s she tracked goods for special orders that couldn't be filled by the Minneapolis store.
"She'd call all the other stores, and her attention to detail was terrific," said Jane Peterson, who has worked with her since 1980.
"She's a spunky lady," Peterson said. "She loves to laugh, and she can be a little bawdy.
"There was a customer once who came into the furniture department, and he bought everything -- a bedroom set, chairs, everything. He said he wanted it all delivered together, all at the same time.
"Well, as they were delivering everything, they saw there was a flaw in the sofa, so they took it back. The customer called and yelled at Annie, and he told her that her boss could just put that sofa 'where the sun don't shine.'
" 'Oh, he can't do that,' Annie told him. 'He's got a chair and a love seat there already.' The customer laughed, and he said, 'Alright, just send the sofa when it's ready.' "
Pride, dedication
As she piled up decades of seniority, Milner "had a direct line to everybody -- to all the CEOs and vice presidents," Peterson said. "She was proud of that."
She was pleased when Michael Francis, executive vice president for marketing at Target Corp., Marshall Field's parent company, came to her party Tuesday, taking her hand and sitting with her.
"You're looking very good," she told him.
"So are you," Francis said. "You said you wanted to go for cocktails."
It was noon, but Milner's eyes twinkled, a "Why not?" dance.
"I'm not working anymore," she said.
"She is an ambassador and a beloved icon, part of the fabric of our community," Francis said later. "She has a tremendous spirit, and I know this isn't a farewell."
As she sat at her place of honor in the 11th-floor corporate offices, surrounded by photographers and reporters, Milner smiled and said, "I wonder how many of you will be [at the same jobs] for 85 years."
Her favorite day?
"Thursday used to be our payday," she said.
She must have had bad workdays in 85 years, Peterson said. "But her greatest frustration was with people who didn't have the same level of pride in this store, the same dedication that she had."
That extended to dress.
"She really did not like the casual look," Peterson said. She continued to dress more formally for work, and she wore "little tiny pumps until just a couple of years ago."
Still a flirt
On Tuesday, Milner wore a rose corsage on a pleated peach blouse, a black sweater and skirt, and -- a concession to being 101 -- comfortable black shoes. She sat and smiled and opened gifts, including a pearl necklace from the store, and interrupted questioners and herself as she spotted old colleagues.
"There's Paul!" she said, waving. "And there's Liz!"
She made fun of herself.
"Which ear should I talk into?" a questioner asked.
"It doesn't matter," she said. "I can't hear out of either one."
And she flirted.
"Oh, look at the handsome cameramen," she said. Turning to a Marshall Field's official, she added, "Why don't you get the candy department to send a box of candy up for the cameramen?"
It was done, and she handed around chocolates, just as she's done for decades.
"She always went to the Friday candy sale for employees," colleague Liz Burnside said. "She bought candy so she could give us desserts every day. She thought we never went to eat."
Milner was joined at Tuesday's party by a sister, Helen Quady, and Quady's son, Ron.
She is a social woman who all her life has enjoyed parties, the cocktail hour and the company of interesting men and women, her friends said. But she never married.
"There was a romance there for many years, long ago," Helen Quady said. "There were others, but that was the long one. I'm not sure what happened.
"She's always been very happy, though. She has always adjusted."
Her coworkers -- at least the latest generation -- agreed.
"Someone on her bus once said something to her about it being too bad she wasn't married, too bad she didn't have children," Peterson said.
"She said, 'Don't feel sorry for me. My time is my own. My money is my own.' "
She was asked about it on Tuesday. "Why should I get myself tied down?" she asked. "I'd do it over again -- single."
Annie Milner retires after 85 years at Dayton's
Chuck Haga, Star Tribune
Tuesday wasn't Annie Milner's last day at Marshall Field's, or Dayton's, as she still prefers to call the downtown Minneapolis store where she started working after the war -- World War I.
"I have a charge card," she reminded everyone at her retirement party.
Milner was 17 when she started at Dayton's in 1919. She went to the store to buy a sweater. "They were so darn nice to me," she said. "I thought, 'This is more fun than going to school' -- so I quit! My family almost disowned me. And now it's 80 years!"
No, Annie, someone said. You've been working here for 85 years.
"I know," she said, giggling. "I shaved five years off."
Honored as Minnesota's oldest worker in 2002, at age 100, Milner said then that she'd keep working as a special-order locator at Marshall Field's.
"Not working doesn't agree with me," she said.
But she had second thoughts, and now, with her 102nd birthday approaching in June, she's looking forward to retirement.
"Am I sad?" she said, smiling as she repeated the question. "Oh, I'm going to miss the people here. I was always happy in Dayton's. I enjoyed every day I came here for ... I have to add those five years, don't I?
"But I'm going to sleep now -- late every morning. Then I'll get up, get myself fixed up, and I'll go out."
She would change nothing.
"If I were young, I'd want to do the whole thing again."
50 years in furniture
The store sent a limousine for her Tuesday, but for most of those 85 years Milner took the bus to work.
She was born in 1902, the year that George Draper Dayton founded the retail dynasty that would become Dayton's. She started work as a package wrapper and cashier but quickly won promotions, landing in the furniture department.
"All men salesmen," she said, beaming. "And me."
She spent more than a half-century there, then moved to customer service, where through her 80s and 90s she tracked goods for special orders that couldn't be filled by the Minneapolis store.
"She'd call all the other stores, and her attention to detail was terrific," said Jane Peterson, who has worked with her since 1980.
"She's a spunky lady," Peterson said. "She loves to laugh, and she can be a little bawdy.
"There was a customer once who came into the furniture department, and he bought everything -- a bedroom set, chairs, everything. He said he wanted it all delivered together, all at the same time.
"Well, as they were delivering everything, they saw there was a flaw in the sofa, so they took it back. The customer called and yelled at Annie, and he told her that her boss could just put that sofa 'where the sun don't shine.'
" 'Oh, he can't do that,' Annie told him. 'He's got a chair and a love seat there already.' The customer laughed, and he said, 'Alright, just send the sofa when it's ready.' "
Pride, dedication
As she piled up decades of seniority, Milner "had a direct line to everybody -- to all the CEOs and vice presidents," Peterson said. "She was proud of that."
She was pleased when Michael Francis, executive vice president for marketing at Target Corp., Marshall Field's parent company, came to her party Tuesday, taking her hand and sitting with her.
"You're looking very good," she told him.
"So are you," Francis said. "You said you wanted to go for cocktails."
It was noon, but Milner's eyes twinkled, a "Why not?" dance.
"I'm not working anymore," she said.
"She is an ambassador and a beloved icon, part of the fabric of our community," Francis said later. "She has a tremendous spirit, and I know this isn't a farewell."
As she sat at her place of honor in the 11th-floor corporate offices, surrounded by photographers and reporters, Milner smiled and said, "I wonder how many of you will be [at the same jobs] for 85 years."
Her favorite day?
"Thursday used to be our payday," she said.
She must have had bad workdays in 85 years, Peterson said. "But her greatest frustration was with people who didn't have the same level of pride in this store, the same dedication that she had."
That extended to dress.
"She really did not like the casual look," Peterson said. She continued to dress more formally for work, and she wore "little tiny pumps until just a couple of years ago."
Still a flirt
On Tuesday, Milner wore a rose corsage on a pleated peach blouse, a black sweater and skirt, and -- a concession to being 101 -- comfortable black shoes. She sat and smiled and opened gifts, including a pearl necklace from the store, and interrupted questioners and herself as she spotted old colleagues.
"There's Paul!" she said, waving. "And there's Liz!"
She made fun of herself.
"Which ear should I talk into?" a questioner asked.
"It doesn't matter," she said. "I can't hear out of either one."
And she flirted.
"Oh, look at the handsome cameramen," she said. Turning to a Marshall Field's official, she added, "Why don't you get the candy department to send a box of candy up for the cameramen?"
It was done, and she handed around chocolates, just as she's done for decades.
"She always went to the Friday candy sale for employees," colleague Liz Burnside said. "She bought candy so she could give us desserts every day. She thought we never went to eat."
Milner was joined at Tuesday's party by a sister, Helen Quady, and Quady's son, Ron.
She is a social woman who all her life has enjoyed parties, the cocktail hour and the company of interesting men and women, her friends said. But she never married.
"There was a romance there for many years, long ago," Helen Quady said. "There were others, but that was the long one. I'm not sure what happened.
"She's always been very happy, though. She has always adjusted."
Her coworkers -- at least the latest generation -- agreed.
"Someone on her bus once said something to her about it being too bad she wasn't married, too bad she didn't have children," Peterson said.
"She said, 'Don't feel sorry for me. My time is my own. My money is my own.' "
She was asked about it on Tuesday. "Why should I get myself tied down?" she asked. "I'd do it over again -- single."
