I went to work today for the first time since March 1, 2002.
I'm not counting the nursery school as work, and I'm not counting coaching. I worked at the school to help my mother-in-law, and because I couldn't resist the smiling faces of twenty-seven three- and four-year-olds. I'm coaching for the love of rowing, or, if you prefer, in exchange for being coached myself.
I worked for three hours at minimum wage plus tips. Minimum wage is $2.20 higher than last time I worked at this rate, which still feels like it rocks, despite being paid far more in between. I don't think there's ever been summer help with my tax filing status, ever.
I made $6.77 in tips, and that includes one guy who tipped me a quarter just for getting him a cup of coffee. I sell candy to kids, lunches to ladies who lunch, tuna to just about everyone, and coffee to people who like to talk about the weather.
The floor is black and white checkered. There's a jukebox. I must always wear socks. I wipe down the counter. I make milkshakes in a metal cup on an old immersion blender. 90 percent of my customers were regulars.
Somehow, I have been hired to work in 1955. This summer is going to rule.
Posted at 4:04 PM in category summer of 1955.No $#@!ing way. You may have, quite possibly, the best job I've ever heard of. Someday - and I mean this in a really GOOD way - I simply must get a cup of coffee from you. There's something about the sound of steel spoon on ceramic saucer that really sets the diner's soul on fire.
Kinda like a 1955-era Pavlovian response. "Good night, Future Boy!"
Posted by: joe on 20 May 2003 at 12:09 PMThere is not a lot better than a milkshake in a metal cup.
Posted by: Millie on 22 May 2003 at 3:08 PMRecent Photographs
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