In a recent post I told you about how in 1992 I took a lackluster job printing for a large business. It was something like being Michael J. Fox working in the mail room in the movie Secret of My Success in that it was absolutely nothing like that, but I liked to think of myself as Michael J. Fox whenever I was at work; that was my "happy place."
I wasn't at work as often as I should have been.
Now, much to my chagrin, in that "job" where five of us did the job of one and we took turns each day with one of us working and the rest of us not, I was very bored and unsatisfied. I was absent, quite frequently. I justified my absences in that I wasn't goofing off, I was probably working somewhere else and I only called in on the days I wasn't supposed to be working. I mean, yeah, I should have been at work, but as I mentioned before, just because we were at work, it didn't mean we were "working."
Also, I will remind you that this was a "budgeted" position that tied up money for this company until they found somewhere better to use it.
With all of that, I could completely justify my slack attitude, but in all honesty and hindsight, I handled it irresponsibly, I took it for granted and did not appreciate how lucky I was to have a job that worked with my school schedule.
Sooooo, after, nine months of me calling in sick roughly 4 times a month, I was "let go." I like to think that it was because they finally found a purpose for my income and since I was the last hired I was the first. However, it was most likely the absence thing. Honestly, they never told me. I got to work one morning (after an unscheduled day off) and the only other person in the office told me "We have to let you go. We'll mail you your check." They did. It was short one day. To this day, I do not know if I was fired or laid off.
Regardless, I had learned a valuable life lesson in that I have since opted to respect all aspects of a legitimate job and not abuse my workplace (or co-workers). The rude awakening really helped me grow up and build a work ethic fast... granted, it took some time to sink in.
I then spent two weeks unemployed and I have not had two weeks off since that time back in 1993.
By the end of those two weeks, I had become desperate and was willing to take any job out there. I did just that.
Now, here's where I point out how much I hate the whole "twisting the knife" thing that happens sometimes. You know where you screw up, get punished and then someone (perhaps your sister) keeps reminding you and everyone how much you screwed up and ergo they drag out your suffering for a bit.
Well, that is EXACTLY what fate had in store for me.
As if to drive home how much I had screwed up a good "cushy" job, the only job I could find next was as a cook in a fast food barbecue restaurant. I'm not knocking either fast food or barbecue jobs, but if you put them together in one place... well, that's what I'm knocking!!!
The interview was odd at best. It was as if I had walked into an Über Christian cult homestead (you decide what that looks like for yourself) with sky blue walls and people in sky blue and white suits walking around talking very softly. It was the kind of room where you'd expect to find a Jim Bakker type curled up in a ball crying, next to a Jessica Hahn type. Also there was Christian and Confederate literature on a counter by the front door.
Outside the door it was the smokey parking lot of a barbecue restaurant. Inside the door, it was all that in the last paragraph, plus some sort of joyful noise elevator music being played throughout the office. It made me dizzy trying to comprehend it all, but I didn't care. I needed a job!
I got the job.
They assigned me to a "Store" not too far from my residence and they taught me the basics. Pretty much I shoveled hot cinders out from the bottom of a fire box and put those cinders into the bottom of one of three ovens. The three ovens were all built together with the firebox. It was all really well done. Each oven had I think four racks that could hold something like 3 to 4 hams and had doors that were six to eight inches thick. Flames from the top of the fire box rushed over the top of each oven. So there was hot cinders at the bottom and fire at the top cooking the hams from both sides.
This was good stuff! And the hickory smoke smelled good.... for about a day. Eventually everything I owned smelled like smoked hickory. Great when you're hanging with the guys. Bad way to find a date.
I do not recall how long we slow roasted these things, but when they were ready, the meat would literally fall off the bone. Then I was trained to carefully cut away all the fat and then chop up all the meat. From then on it was referred to as chop. I learned to hate chop!
Oh yeah, we even advertised that we cut out the fat but after a few weeks on the job I was informed by my manager, and personally by the owner, to stop cutting out the fat. Soooo, the fat stayed in.
Did you ever see that scene in Carrie where she had all of that "stuff" dumped on her at the prom? Well, here is a bad rendition of it. I felt like that every day. Not that I was covered in pig blood, but the fat. SO. MUCH. FAT!!! Seriously, I looked like I was trying to tap into my Italian roots my hair was so slicked back by the end of the day. I do that intentionally some days, but not with pig fat. It was awful.
This was a family owned business and the owners daughter was our assistant manager. She was a very nice lady as I recall. I think she resented that other men were hired to be managers above her, but these were guys with Business Degrees straight out of college. I'm not kidding. Manager's had to have a college degree. However, they weren't family so they rotated a lot.
We had one manager who was remarkably passionate about the place. It was as though he had been brain washed to worship this place. However, he didn't handle stress well and one day, he pushed me hard. I'll get to that part later; essentially, I snapped and did one of the funniest things I've ever done in the work place and to this day I am amazed I did not get fired (again, later)!
We had another assistant manager who totally sexually harassed me. I was 100% A OK with this! Kinda... She was a temptress and as country as the day is long (I don't what/ if that means anything, but it sounds country). She was a little farmers daughter cutey and if she ever needed me to do something for her, she would catch me in the freezer, corner me and flirt. She was married and absolutely nothing ever happened, but damned if I could resist doing her favors. I'd get cornered and suddenly I was unloading pickles from shelves.... I dunno... She might've been a Jedi. Maybe she liked her men slathered up in pig fat?
There were also a few college kids like me. We were all very confused and broken.
Now I must say, I was equally inspired and confused by the man who managed the kitchen. He was a black man and was in his fifty's. He had been in the south his entire life and had grown up during the civil rights movement. He had seen the worst of human prejudice and had lived through a time that I can never understand. He had dealt with a pain that I am blessed to have never dealt with. As much as I could empathize with him, I could never truly comprehend how he grew from his experiences.
Working in this kitchen, that I hated so, was his greatest accomplishment. As he would say it, "Look at me look at me... when I was just a boy I wasn't allowed to come in the restaurant. I could only order from the back door. But now... now I manage the kitchen! Look at me look at me. Thank you Lord!" I could never forget that. His joy was the only thing that helped me stay focused in what I thought was an awful job. To him it was a Major Victory. He was David and this place was Goliath.
I would honestly think that in that situation I would want nothing to do with the place. I would leave it alone and let it rot. But not him. He needed his victory and his victory would hopefully inspire someone and heal old wounds. It inspired me and I know that I could never truly understand his perspective, but I respected it.
And that was the only serious thing I ever felt in this job. But I tried my best to display an ethic. I only worked there for one summer and I never called in sick once... but I hated every day.
And once again, I have spouted off too much and must give you a break. I am sorry that this has become a three parter, but I promise you that it is worth it... I'm going to try something new in my next post.
Try to contain your excitement!!!
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