My First Job: Lawnboy, Stockboy, Busboy

"Your attitude from the outset has been most unpleasant.
You can stew your own juice!"
-as heard while watching
the 2009 Broadway Show
"Blithe Spirit", an Improbably Farce
by Noel Coward
Do you remember your first job? I thought I would devote my next three blogs to my first three jobs.

My first real job was as the ‘lawn boy’ to my neighbors, Tito and Betty Wong. They would pay me $8 for cutting the lawn in their front and back yards. It would take about two hours to do a good job. That was a lot of money to me in the early 1970s when you are just a kid aged thirteen-fifteen.

This suddenly reminds me of a book I read ‘later in life’ called LawnBoy by Paul Lisicky. That was an entirely different storyline, of course (too funny-you can just imagine).
By age sixteen, I was ready for the big time. I applied for a job at Montgomery Ward’s Department store for summertime work. The store was only a stones’ throw drive from Alameda to Oakland. I was hired as a stockboy. I worked in the PAINT Department. It was so difficult having to lift and transport these heavy paint cans from storage to the main floor.

Once summer was over they didn’t need me in the PAINT Department any longer, so they offered me a position in the Department Store Cafeteria as a busboy. I frowned on the idea but I decided to accept because I could still go to high-school and work nights and weekends. I would end up taking home anywhere from $60 to $150 a week. This was a lot of money to me.

The only thing was that as a ‘busboy’ you had to wipe tables, do dishes, and other grueling work like clean up the grease and countertops in the food area. One thing I remember is the joy of finding a quarter or a dollar under a coffee cup. It meant so much to me to find that one quarter or buck. It made my day. I was acknowledged.
To this day, when I am in an environment where I see busboys I always leave a dollar or two (they do WORK the hardest).

I would despise many of those Montgomery Ward sales clerks who would come into the cafeteria for coffee, breakfast, lunch or dinner and not acknowledge me. I was an unskilled worker and I was invisible to them. The experience taught me a lot. My smile did not even get a reaction because the ‘high class’ sales clerks were too good to be chatting with a “busboy”. So many people need attitude adjustments.

After any workday I always felt so ‘greasy’. It was a pleasure to come home and bathe.

There were a few fun co-workers that I still remember ‘to this day’ like Arlene, Lois, Shirley, Carmen Papp and Luis Maldonado. Arlene was about my age but she was a cashier and a food server. My work was so much more difficult. Lois, an older black woman, worked hard and I felt sorry for her sometimes. Shirley was Portuguese and had a very dark (black) husband. They had a son together. In 1976, it was my first real visual of an interracial couple. Shirley would always cry over any little thing. She seemed to have such a difficult life. Luis was about my age, too. We were both busboys. All he wanted to do was get his paycheck and ‘party’. He always said he wanted 'pussy' (just to give you an idea of how rude he sounded). Carmen seemed the most level-headed and interesting. I always enjoyed working with her. She was about thirty-two or so and was a cashier, food server as well.

I remember one time when Carmen Papp and I were working late together. She talked to me on the side and she would always lick her lips and her lipstick. On this particular night she would tell me how she always brushed her tongue (as well as her teeth).
"My dentist says that I have the cleanest tongue he has ever seen," Carmen said.

It didn’t really sink in until she actually said it. She was actually explaining to me how she has been told that she does a great ‘blow job’. I was so shocked. Here I am, this innocent suburban Alameda schoolboy at age seventeen now (almost eighteen). She wanted to give me a ‘blow job’. It was very clear to me that she was propositioning me. I never took her up on the offer but it is funny the things we do remember from our first job, isn't it?

Twenty-five years ago today:

August 18, 1984
Saturday

I woke up from Mom’s phone call at 9:15AM on this Saturday morning. She and I went to Ole’s Waffle Shop on Park Street for breakfast while my flat tire was being repaired at ‘Joe’s Bike Shop’. It was fun having breakfast with mom. I told mom a little bit about my date with Linda.

After I picked up my bike I dropped mom off and then took BART to Walnut Creek. Bill Helbush was not going to be able to meet me at the landmark liquor store until 5PM, so I said, “Later”. I chose not to meet him after all.

I rode my bike over to Chris Cordellos’ mom’s house. We had apple juice. She could tell I was thirsty from the ride. We talked for a while. I think she liked having my company. She gave me Chris’ telephone number and address. We parted with cordial goodbyes and I hopped on my bike once again.

It was a tough ride back from Concord all the way to Alameda via Crow Canyon Road. I rested twice. One resting spot was at a gas station where I downed a can of Sprite and a can of Mr. Pibbs. I was so thirsty! The service attendant was giving me the ‘up and down’ look. I was tired. I believe it was because I was not used to the Contra Costa heat.

Ironically, I got on my bike and the “Heat of the Moment” song by ASIA (1982) came on. I love when that happens. It makes me pedal faster.

http://www.bing.com/videos/search?q=heat+of+the+moment&qs=AS&docid=1003612209621&mid=29D6EF91D37BACEE526629D6EF91D37BACEE5266&FORM=VIVR#

It was really a HOT day. The Alameda breeze never felt so good.
I tried to nap once I got home when Cedric Green called.
“Hey Mike, what are you up to?”
“I just got back from a very long bike ride.”
“Would you do me a favor?”
“Uh…okay, what?”
“Would you call me the next time you plan to go out so me, you and Michelle can go out again?”
“Oh, okay, sure,” I replied, realizing I was not so gung ho about the idea after I answered in such an affirmative way.

I also received a surprising phone call from former co-worker Pat Overshoun in Downtown Oakland. She called to tell me that Randy Evans (another co-worker from Pac Tel in Downtown Oakland) had died this morning of a heart attack. I was so shocked. He was only about thirty years old. He was a black gentleman, with such a nice demeanor, too.

I dismissed the idea of going out with Cedric Green tonight. Instead, I went to moms’ house for some avocado salad. When I returned to my pad I called Steve Gaster and invited him over for a drink.
“Oh, Thanks but I’m barbecuing steaks right now and some friends are over. You can come, too, if you want.”
“Oh, maybe another time. I just wanted to let you know about Randy Evans,” I said.
“Well, you know Andra Wicks?” Steve asked in reference to another co-worker.
“Yeah, what about her?”
“Well, she got fired about a week ago!”
That was another surprise for me.

I telephoned Sherri and we talked for a good while and she shared her motherhood blues. Then I telephoned mom again to say good-night.

Now ‘here I am’ ready for a shower, then bed. Good night.