There’s a story about where the name of my shop (“Amy Did It”) comes from that I like to tell.
When I was in pre-school, I was tormented daily by a little girl whose name was “America.” (Note: this is NOT a thinly-disguised parable of some sort). Every day, America would beat me up. I had always learned that fighting wasn’t nice, but even pacifists have limits. On the day I reached that limit, I socked America in the nose, and ran behind the classroom door to see what would happen. America was rendered speechless and blubbering by my rare demonstration of non-peaceful resistance, even as the teacher asked her, “What’s wrong? Who hurt you?” And I, who feared obscurity more than punishment peeked out from behind the door and hollered, “Amy did it!”
The lesson (maybe this is a parable after all): You might do good, and you might do bad, but you must always, always claim credit.