Shellfish generally, and lobster specifically I find tremendously repulsive, making me the MVP of the lobster disassmblers. The very fact that I wasn't continually snacking on lobster pieces was enough to achieve me this honor. A pretty auspicious beginning to a spotty employment history. If I didn't hate lobster enough when I started this job, hauling slimy barrels of spent lobster carcasses up to the sun-baked, maggot-infested dumpster fixed me for life.
The first job I got on my own with no help from a parent. Also my first interaction with cheerleaders who were my co-workers. Always be wary of someone who disses your current girlfriend ('You can do better than her!') but will not go out with you herself. introduced to the word scubbing, a verb that means to soak the excess grease off the top of a pizza with paper towels.
The owner's wife made muffins every morning and I made donuts on the tractor out by the giant pile of composting yard waste. The owner was a high-strung fellow and would whistle an 'UH-OH' sound every time he saw you do something improperly, like the invisible judge on a game show.
Once I was changing the battery out of the tractor my screwdriver slipped out of my hand creating a short from the battery to the gas tank. The current was strong enough to spot-weld little holes in the tank and I was amazed that it didn't explode immediately. I started running and found the owner who came back and knocked the screwdriver off with a wooden rake handle. Both my stepbrother and I worked there, he got asked back the following summer, I did not.
Got the job thru my friend Pete who was a prep cook there. He quit and I had to take on the prep and dish duties with no increase in pay. I decided to quit in the 14th hour of a double-shift-bus-tour-clambake day from hell. Alone in the kitchen for 2 hours my plan was to leave the place immaculate as a graceful note to the 'fuck you' of never showing up again. Pete showed up with Sam and Nick as if by providence and to my credit, I did ask them to stay and help clean. Instead, we took 5 bottles of the best champagne out of the walk-in and left the kitchen a wreck.
Would ride shotgun in the 'Worcester Country Cruiser' handing out Marie Osmond and Bellamy Brothers cassettes to a citizen or two in Ricky Skaggs sweatshirts. Really a one-person job, Carol, the late-night DJ would drive and I'd get sent along to keep her company, but usually the country music broadcast would get to me and I'd fall asleep drooling down the front of my parka.
Back in the paste-up days. Typesetting was done by entering raw text into a little Unix console with some kinda markup language to handle formatting. Changing fonts meant replacing a piece of photo film deep inside the machine that rotated around a strobe. You'd enter your text, wait a few minutes, and your copy would appear in a slot on the side of the machine, photo booth style, stinking of chemicals and everything.
During my internship year I was poor and hungry and this job was a godsend. I'd eat everything that smelled ok while on the job and stuff wrapped cold-cut sandwiches down my pants to get them past the guard at closing. My two roommates also worked there and when the school year was over, we all quit on the same day with no notice. Sorry.
Neon signs are cool and so was my boss here. He introduced me to college radio, permanently changing my life. On the last broadcast day of the semester, I called in sick to work so I could stay home and call in dozens of requests so I could tape them on my roommate's stereo. I was busted, though, my boss was listening and recognized my favorite bands playing one after another and the DJ mentioned the one particular dude who kept calling in. I dubbed the two tapes full down to one 90 minute tape which I still have. The track list is here.
On my 18th birthday I donned a powder blue spray suit and painted a black dumptruck red. Normally I would hand letter signs while Bill airbrushed fantasy babes on the sides of motorcycle gas tanks.
If the chef wants to listen to Jimmy Buffet bootlegs every waking hour of the day, then the rest of the kitchen staff had better learn to live with it.
The management was actually ok with me taking home a sack full of unsold hot dogs at the end of every night, my sole source of calories through the winter of '87. The shift boss supremely uptight and would come around once a week to sign people up for the next week's events.
"Do you want to work Thursday for Frank Zapper?" I remember her asking me once.
I did. I registered to vote that night for the first time. I quit the night R.E.M. played there on their Green tour. It was my birthday, and I pretended to punch in and wandered in to the show.
All through the interview I stared at the manager's disfigured pinky and pondered the care she took at applying polish to the tiny mutant fingernail. The job required too much structured thinking and politeness under pressure for me. It was a train wreck of a day that the manager and I circled the banquet floor looking for each other. Me to tell her I quit, and she to tell me I was fired.
Another desperate job I took for the high caloric value of the readily available product. I used to drink 4 milkshakes a shift.
All profits from this ill-fated Portland hotspot went up the owner's big nose.
weak, writing little notes to myself, almost mow off foot, can't tell craig i'm an art student
guerilla construction, my first 40's
cafe knowledge, basket head
hosing out the grinder, quitting to play with the greyhound
shaving my head, crush on the boss' girlfriend, first art show
CO2 chunx kill moths, crush on julia the truck driver
ink stud
index cards
scott bumps his head, cayenne pepper, vic chesnutt
the booty, really low pay
link to creative
summer of beige
toxic wonderland
miserable winter, broke a window
flaming gas jet, flirt-o-rama, party like a line-cook
art supplies, paper department
steak tip fridays, the porn drawer
dubious skills
Rodney the freak
free burritos, man!
fun, dead dotcom
morning after at the frathouse vibe, 4 rounds of layoffs
sitting home alone
babysitting
Kraft house
Ray on commision, friday after thanksgiving, amazon textbooks, tax-free day, phone room, "we are out of mini ipods"