My first job was easy to come by. I did nothing to get it actually. Nothing at all. One day I woke up without a job, and, by nightfall, I had one. The job that would go on to shape my life in a very significant way fell right into my lap. I had to take it.
I was fifteen. I may have been a boring child. I played my violin dutifully but disinterestedly. I did my homework in a similar fashion. I played no sports (there weren’t any for girls back then), I read no books voluntarily, and I stayed quite silent so as not to incur anyone’s wrath or dismay. I remember climbing trees and building forts for secret clubs in hedgerows and seeing just how far I could jump off a swing. I imagined myself an Olympic star for my swingsetting. I was very disappointed to learn that astronauts have to have 20-20 vision, and had to let that life dream go.
I did as I was told.
So when my father came home from his day’s work as an inspector for the local Department of Health and told me I had a job in a local restaurant, I dutifully but disinterestedly went to my first shift the very next day.
I felt in-way-over-my-head. The job was demanding. The boss complained to my parents that I had a vacuous stare whenever they were giving me directions. They soon learned that I was thinking things through, as is my wont.
At first, I did the dirty work. I had to clean like I had never had to clean before, public bathrooms especially. I washed dishes. I cleaned tables, I stocked paper goods. I guess I did all that well, because next thing I knew, I was making huge batches of salad dressings and pouring them artfully into gallon containers. The secret of pouring large batches of liquids from a bowl to a container with a smaller opening is to commit. You must believe in yourself, hold that bowl very high, and tip with aplomb. To miss would be a disaster of slimy liquid seeping under slicers, off tables, onto lower shelves, and spreading into the holes of the rubber floor mats below. It would take a very long time to clean. I learned this task quickly and well. Loved it in fact. I still use that particular skill on the reg. I also learned how to butcher a chicken. I never buy chicken parts, only whole chickens, and I use those long-ago-learned skills often.
I remember being paid something like $3.00 an hour, and that raises would come very welcome in $.05 jumps.
I remember, too, being very proud when I was promoted to the front kitchen, the line, where I would drop batches of raw battered chicken into a large pressure cooker of boiling oil, close the lid, lock it shut, pump a foot pedal, set a timer, then let that chicken cook, all while the customer watched. That stuff was really good. Broasted chicken it was called, and the restaurant was The Broaster.
We broasted lots of stuff: pork chops, steaks and all chicken parts, liver, gizzards and hearts included. I grew to love chicken hearts, and still do.
I like to think my father chose that particular restaurant because it was very well run: clean, organized, and fully up to code. I like to think he approved of the married owner/operators, Barb and Stan. Maybe he just wanted one of his five kids out of his hair in the evenings and on the weekends, because that’s when I went to work. I don’t know if there were labor laws governing child labor back then, but I am quite sure I would have been subject to all of them, my father being the inspector and high school chemistry teacher at the time, and his going on to be a president of several boards, a chemistry professor, the county election commissioner, the town supervisor, and the village mayor.
I learned great restaurant skills at that place, and will be forever grateful to Barb and Stan for instilling all kinds of kitchen ethics in me. As happens often after first restaurant jobs, I had a slew of restaurant jobs after that, and eventually settled on restaurateur as my life-long career, despite my advanced degrees in physics and mathematics.
I moved back to my home town a few years ago. The Broaster has been long gone. I drive by the somewhat desolate location often now, on my way to the bank right across the country road, or to the pet store, or to a friend’s house, or while I’m just driving around; there’s not a whole lot more to do around here and never was.
I remember The Broaster fondly.
Recently I heard that someone is hoping to revive broasted chicken in town. Although I don’t eat that kind of food unless I must anymore, I’ll be one of the first there.
This is my entry to @ericvancewalton's Memoir Monday initiative. Every week Eric posts a question about our lives for us to answer, in hopes that, after a year, the participants will have produced a valuable collection of memories. This week's prompt is How did you get your first job?
In Eric's words:
Someday all that will be left of our existence are memories of us, our deeds, and words. It's up to you to leave as rich of a heritage as possible for future generations to learn from. So, go ahead, tell your stories!
I enjoyed your first job story and have so many thoughts about it.
This was such a demanding job for you during the time of your early development, with a nice sprinkle of brutality. Not dismissing or diminishing the valuable things you learned from this experience!
You were pursuing the fine arts of violin and then thrust into the processing of chickens as your job, and these are very different life pursuits.
I'm sure (Actually I know...) that you could write books regarding the dynamics involved. I know you have already spoken of some of these dynamics in past posts.
I think you are a shining example of someone who has experienced many aspects of the raw reality of life and also is an example of someone who has always put forth a valiant effort in these life experiences.
I have a close family member who started off as a violinist and life took her in the direction that brought my existence into this message, so it hits close to home.
I sent you a message on discord, I'd love to catch up with you on some things and I hope all has been going well for you!
We appreciate you taking the time, to either use #ThoughtfulDailyPost, or otherwise help this Community grow. So...
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Very entertaining!
I just hate to be a smart arse but wouldn't a funnel do the job?...or am I missing something?
That is so funny I just responded to someone else about this. Perhaps, although I find funnels unreliable. If you don't commit, even with a funnel, the greasy stuff slips down the side of the bowl you are pouring from, and makes the very same mess. AND, you have one more dish to wash. Why make more work for yourself, when you can use a little elementary mechanics, hold the bowl high enough that the narrow part of the stream is plenty small to fit through the opening, and take pleasure in the ease and beauty of the flow? Use physics to your advantage! I still do this. It's easier with thicker liquids. Milk, for instance, will slosh out the other side of the vessel you're pouring into. The speed at which you pour matters!
No need to teach a child physics if you teach them to always think about how to make fewer dirty dishes and to keep their work space very clean instead.
Hmm, I'll take your word for it since you're the expert and my maths skills, other than mental arithmetic, are for the birds.
About kids and learning, I agree entirely. All subjects from english to physics could easily be learned by allowing a child to explore his surroundings rather than forcing him to sit behind a desk. But perhaps producing bright, imaginative children is not the agenda.
YES!! That line leaped out at me, too. It's so true. The more careful (hesitant) about pouring we are, the more likely we are to spill. The big, brave JUST DO IT, and do it quickly, wins the day.
This, @owasco, I wouldn't have guessed was you at any time in your life:
I'm glad you evolved into the outspoken version of the free thinker you've always been. :)
Your dad, a chemistry teacher - you, with advanced degrees in math and science - and yet it's the most rudimentary, fundamental fact of living, FOOD, food prep, cooking, feeding people, something "anyone" could do, but you did it - better than anyone!
Have you read or even heard of the insanely best-selling memoir, "The Glass Castle," by Jeanette Walls? Her mother thought cooking was a waste of time... for weeks now I have been seething, indignant, angry on behalf of that woman's four children, waiting until I simmer down before I write a review (it's an old book, but still selling well, to my amazement).
Now, if you ever write and publish a bio on your Aunt Jane - I'll 5-star that one!
Carol!!!
I was into higher math for a few years, that was so esoteric almost NO ONE was able to share it with me. Then I got into modern dance. More people liked it, but still fairly few. Food though. Food. I could find common ground with everyone when it came to food.
I started reading in college. All my friends were avid readers, so I forced myself to do it until it became another thing I couldn't live without. One of my earliest voluntarily read books was The Secret Life Of Plants.
I think I read the Glass Castle, the title and author both ring bells, but I don't remember the story.
It would be fun to write about Aunt Jane.
I have to apologize for not responding to your emails. I'm in play that opens tonight, have begun studying to be a homeopath (enrolled in an academy - so much work!), and the garden is killing me, small as it is. Too much! Next week I'm traveling, then hopefully I'll only have the academy to do.
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You're on your way to becoming a Hive legend! Keep up the fantastic work @owasco.
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What a cool story about your first job! I liked how you were encouraged to become proficient at so many things.
They definitely put me on a good path, kitchen wise.
Lovely reading about your first job and how you stayed in that business! My first also was waitressing, but you did way more than that!
I was curious about broasted chicken, never heard that term so Googled a recipe. Almost like KFC, but no batter?
I never buy KFC but will eat when someone else offers it.
I also need to get going on my story!
Waitressing! I cannot do that job! I get very flustered. In the kitchen, I'm super efficient. On the floor, forget it, I'm a dunce. Can't wait to hear your story!
Have you ever wondered what would your life have been like if your Father did not get you that job? Did you have an interest in cooking before working there?
What is broasted chicken? At first, I thought you misspelled roasted but after several times I knew that was not the case.
I love chicken livers but I can not bring myself to eat anythings heart, hearts are the first thing my husband goes for, when he used to hunt, the heart was cooked first.
I would not qualify for being an astronaut either my vision is 20/400.
I think I would have ended up in the business anyway. In college I baked bread and sold it to friends and at the local co-op to pay my rent, was very interested in food. I suppose that job may have set me on that path. Hm.
It's pressure fried. I think ours was battered but I'm not sure.
I love livers (had beef livers for dinner tonight), except for pork livers. Yuck. I think the only hearts I've ever had were chicken.
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Let's hope they believe in funnels,...
um, I do not get that. Is it a joke? Funnels for killing the chickens?
Funnels for the dressing from the bowl.
Oh! haha, no then there would be one more dish to wash!
Thanks for that walk into your past! I find it fascinating how much influence these early experiences have in shaping the rest of our lives.
Rolled into something you ended up loving and doing as a career, perhaps you were young, best time to start. Going back and reflecting on how we took a path in life always interesting, now going home to fond memories.
Around 15 was about the age we could go into departmental stores to apply for Student positions. Never regretted doing it during holidays as it meant you had started earning a little to spend as you wished after paying your train ticket, a few responsibilities with a brand new world opening up.
Had to look up that pressure fryer. Probably to save energy and diminish oil fumes I guess. Never saw one of those over here. Only the open sort. We call deep fry friture from French. Obviously to make sure people understand that this is a foreign and exotic alternative to the rye bread peasantry of Scandinavia.
I was a short while in a fast food joint inspired by Burger King. I guess I learned about cleanliness, treating your workers respectfully and such thing the reverse way. My eldest daughter on the other hand had a job among Danish French people in a bistro in the center of Copenhagen. A place where they laughed in the customers face if they asked for ketchup. I love the world of professional foodsters - just as crazy and upbeat as being an artist.
Foodies would tell you that cooking is and art. And it is really. One that you do over and over and over again until you can do it perfectly every single time.
I'll remember never to ask for ketchup if I'm ever in Europe. What's happening in your life man? I know you've a lot going on...
It is art - all sort of crafts are. Some countries like France and Japan acknowledges this more than others, but it is creation, communication and beauty just like so many other types of what we call art.
The Ketchup thing is probably just Southern Europe - they have a stronger sense of that whole art-food connection and tomato ketchup is not included there (among Anglo-Saxons cold, far east inspired sauces are very important: ketchup, worcestershire sauce, chutneys etc.). The story was that a couple with a child asked my daughter for it and as she hadn't seen any ketchup she asked in the kitchen and they all saw bewildered at each other - then the main waiter just told her: "Tell them this is a French restaurant." So no ketchup.
And my life has just been busy with all sorts of family things and real life work. My youngest have started at an efterskole She'll be there for one school year, so actually my wife and I are about to be all alone... but until everything is settled, I haven't been able to find the rhytme to finally get back to work on all my stranded projects. Soon I'll be up and running I hope.
Greetings @owasco ,
What a lovely well-written story.....thank you for the tip about pouring liquids...it is sure to come in handy. ^__^
I do hope The Broaster reopens so other teenagers can gain from such experience similar to yours.
Kind Regards, Bleujay
That was such a pleasure to read!
I also love this memories initiative and I'm sure I'm going to be hopping on it.
I wish you said what year it was or the period or something (you don't have to tell me if you don't want to), because I'd really like to google what the Child Labour laws were back then.
Nevies! Where have you been?!
You already know I'm old, so I may as well be more specific. I got this job in 1971 or thereabouts.