# First Job... hard to forget, fun to remember, worth sharing the story!



## Rouseau (Nov 21, 2016)

I'm always fascinated by the stories that arise about firsts for different experiences. People of all ages still, on the daily, experience things for the first time. And, for whatever reason, our brains seem to remember first experiences vividly.

So, new here though I am, this is the first thread I'd like to start– more to follow I'm sure. 

My question to this friendly community: 
Your first job – what was it? Where and when? Your boss– what was he/she like? Any embarrassing/learning experiences? What would you tell that younger self today?

I'll start with my own little tidbit.My first job was at a small french cafe. I got the job because I spoke French, and I think they wanted to have a young lad running around greeting people with a "Bonjour!". I wasn't particularly good at it, but there wasn't much to it: set table, greet, seat, take order, bring food, check-in, bill, goodbyes, clean, repeat. I loved pastries, and nothing could compare to the smell of the fresh bread. However, the baker was a true-to-form French baker– up at 3am, with hands callused by 475° metal trays since the age of 13–who never could understand that my juvenile hands couldn't handle that sort of heat. He used to hand me trays fresh out of the oven. Me, with eyes glowing with the sight of fresh croissants and wanting to prove myself, would grab the trays, stiffly want away with them to keep my pride intact, and then in the next room grab rags to prevent more burn. So worth it though.
THe worst part–cleaning bathrooms. Nothing particularly bad with them, I just don't like bathrooms much. 
The best part of the job, and the part I'm somewhat embarrassed about– there were these nifty set lunches that included a full meal, from the salad and entrée to the bread and dessert. It wasn't small. People almost never made it all the way to the dessert; we had an older clientele with smaller appetites (I understand them now! Although I usually start with the dessert). I used to recommend the set lunches to people who I assume had smaller appetites, knowing they might not make it to the dessert. 
Then, after clearing the table, I'd take it to the back and, using one of the boxes I had folded (I folded hundreds of them for take-out), I'd carefully transfer the delicacies to the box. We weren't allowed to reserve them obviously, and an untouched dessert couldn't go to waste! 
I'd finish my day with meager cash earnings, but a trove of desserts that I'd bring back to my friends. Nothing could beat that. 

Looking back, I realize it was one of my favorite jobs. I enjoyed touching base with my French roots, enjoyed the fresh bread and the (stolen?) desserts, and I loved being able to talk with the clientele, even if only briefly. Best part #2: a gal I had a crush on was a regular there, and I will never forget how proud I was to tell her to take whichever table she pleased and be able to offer her a free dessert (not one of the ones I'd snagged, mind you!).​
Anyways, that's it for now –
Would love to hear your own stories of your first jobs. I'm thinking of compiling a collection of stories of people's first experiences (first pet, first kiss, first car, etc.) – we'll see how this goes.
Cheers


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## Timetrvlr (Dec 4, 2016)

I grew up on a farm and I was a hustler forever figuring new ways to make a buck. When I was 11, a road contractor set up a gravel plant in a desert wash near our house. He was hiring a lot of local labor, a few were older high school boys. I wanted in on it too so I noticed one employees job was to watch two ranch gates that had been opened to allow dump truck traffic free access. I hunted up the job site boss and told him I'd be happy to do that job for half what he was paying that guy and he could put that grown man back to work. I guess he liked my chutzpah because he hired me on the spot though he did tell me I'd have to get a Social Security card. That was my first full-time job and I thoroughly enjoyed it---for a full three weeks, until the boss found out that all his employees had to be at least 18 years old. That silly rule cost me a lot of grief for the next few years until I learned to lie about my age.


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## jujube (Dec 4, 2016)

My first job was a summer job at a sleazy loan company as a clerk.  

Our clientele was pretty low class.  They would get behind on their payments and then be enraged to find out that $39.99 of the $40 they came in with was allocated to the back interest -- the company was permitted by law to put no more than 1 cent toward the principal.  This fact WAS NOT to be communicated to the customers before they handed the money over and it was safely locked in the cash drawer, because otherwise they'd have just snatched the money back and stormed out.  There was a lot of yelling each day.

One day, I was back in the bathroom primping and wasting time and missed out on a robbery.  I came out and all the excitement was over.  I didn't even get to make a statement to the police because I had missed it all.  

I was glad when college classes started in the fall and I could quit the job.


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## Aunt Marg (Oct 22, 2020)

My first real job was working for a European restaurant owner (part-time) washing dishes.

I wasn't crazy about it, but mom and dad were always behind me every step of the way when it came to finding jobs, "oh, you'll make some good money", or, "it will keep you out of trouble", even though I never got into trouble.

The kitchen was toasty, and even toastier in the summer, and there I'd be, with industrial rubber gloves that went all the way to my elbows, rinsing, washing, stacking, repeat.

Opening the large washer door was like subjecting oneself to a steam bath, 200 (plus) degrees inside, and then there were always those times when there'd be a rush and need for clean silverware and such. 

What the industrial stainless steel washer couldn't do, I did by-hand... clean linen towels stacked a mile high, wet and dirty linen towels in a rolling hamper in the corner, and the steady in and out of waitresses bringing in dirty plates and silverware, while fetching clean replacements.

My only connection to the outside world was through a large window that overlooked a park, and the little round window in the saloon style door that separated the kitchen from the dining area of the restaurant.

Best part of about that job, the free food I got! Boy, did the owners ever take good care of me and feed me well!


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