My first real job was waiting tables at a lunch place across the street from Lord & Taylor in Millburn, NJ. I was about thirteen or fourteen. My friend Liz and I would go every Saturday and take orders for tuna melts from crabby old ladies who'd tip us a quarter if we were lucky. I usually got less because for the life of me, I could never remember to bring silverware. So I'd inevitably get some biddy screeching "I NEED A FORK" while she calculated how many pennies she could stiff off my tip for that transgression. This place was old school—we even mixed our own Cokes with syrup and seltzer.
My second real job was at the local drug store. I was a little older then and regularly pilfered the place for everything from tampons to conditioner to birth control pills. Though we had bottles of pharmaceutical cocaine, I was too nice (i.e., Catholic-guilted/scared) to dip into those. There was one lady who would call in every Saturday and give me a long list of things she needed delivered all so I wouldn't notice the last item on her list—her valium 'script. Inevitably, every other week, Nick the pharmacist would have to get on the phone with her and explain that as she'd just gotten 200 pills the week prior, he wasn't really allowed to dispense anymore or he'd get in trouble.
I guess I was just thinking back on these jobs because I've been looking for work lately. Reading these customer-service type blogs—as hilarious as they are—reminds me to count my lucky stars that my contact with other human beings is strictly optional.
I never met a Catholic girl that was scared to do anything at least two times. By the way, I grew up on the East Coast and as I recall, the definition of a nice Jersey girl was once that would put it in for you. Is that still the case today?
Posted by: F&B | March 02, 2007 at 07:10 PM
Lol. Hi Judy, I decided to read your blog from now on and comment regularly because you all enjoying having me around so much. (You know you do!)
And I agree with F&B. How can you call yourself a Catholic girl if you had the opportunity to sin and DIDN'T?? Stealing bath products is for Protestants. You have to have something good to tell Father at confession, or you'll never get his attention.
Posted by: Stephanie | March 03, 2007 at 03:03 AM
Also, I was the classic bad waitress. On good days, all I forgot was silverware. Most days, I would also forget drinks, appetizers, meals, even entire tables. I spilled things on customers. I mixed up orders, brought them the wrong food, or the right food congealed after it had been sitting out for twenty minutes. I always made just as much as the other girls, though. On days when I didn't screw anything up, I often made more than the girls who had been there for years. I had to start lying to them about how much I made so they wouldn't get jealous, lol. I guess that's because I'm pretty? I always had a boyfriend, though, so I guess the tips made up for the fact that I always bought my own drinks.
Posted by: Stephanie | March 05, 2007 at 12:37 AM
When the supreme beings take us over, anyone bringing a broken grill or vacuum back to Walmart will be immediately roasted and put out with a freshness date where the price should be. Really.
Posted by: osisbs | March 06, 2007 at 02:43 PM
oooooooh, jersey diners. i'm from livingston but i've never been to that one in millburn -- sounds awesome! my first job was as a supermarket checker at Kings. they got scanners after my first few months there and posted a chart ranked from fastest checker to slowest. guess who was the slowest checker? ;) and yes, nice (jewish) jersey girls do put it in for you. but i'm not nice anymore, so...
Posted by: michelle | March 08, 2007 at 09:08 AM