Thursday, January 27, 2011

The Third Job.

There was a family in our ward who's children I had been babysitting since I was 11. The mom's brother had recently moved to the area and was opening a Godfather's Pizza place in a nearby city and she suggested we apply. They were starting the hiring process while the construction was still going on. My sister Katie was now 16 and we both needed a job. So we went to apply. In the big white van. 30 minutes away.

The interviews went well I think. We were both hired. We needed to come in for training. Apparently making and selling pizza takes a ton of training. We learned about the pizza ingredients and how to run the register, how to refill the salad bar just so and how to wipe down tables. The place was really coming together nicely.

Then it opened. Our arrangement with management was that, because of the driving distance, my sister and I had to have the same schedule. They obliged. Training and actually working are 2 very different things. It was crazy. But there were nice people who worked there. The manager who was related to the babysitting family was really nice. But I don't remember him being there all that often. Maybe it was because the manager who I do remember was He looked like a mole. You know, like how Richard Gere looks like a rat. Beady eyes, pointy nose. This manager was rude and rotten. He was also very large. And very hungry.

One of the rules was that if you make a mistake on the pizza you had to remake the pizza and the ruined pizza was sent back to the kitchen. In training we were told that we could eat the ruined pizza, but not to make many ruined pizzas. Here's the rub. Mole Manager loved pizza. A lot. Every time a ruined pizza was sent back he would follow it and take it and eat the whole thing. He'd roll it up into a burrito shape and dig in. Without sharing. Rude. And fattening. Also grotesque. And he did it while berating the pizza makers who ruined it. I enjoyed the times he wasn't there and we could enjoy the ruined pizza without him looming nearby. Tasty pizza.

Katie and I always went home smelling ridiculously of pizza. I don't remember really enjoying this job. And Katie always drove. She's demanding like that. You know it, too, Katie! And one night while at work, Katie and the Mole Manager got into an argument. I can't for the life of me remember what it was about. All I kept thinking was, she's gonna get us fired! But she kept going. He kept going. Finally he said it. “You're fired.” And not in the cool way that Donald Trump says it. I believe his face was purple from the yelling. But then my sister, my lovely sister, said something back. “No! We QUIT!”

Not “I quit.” “WE quit.” Her and me. Me and her. But I don't remember being a part of that whole argument. I guess it was WE because we came and went together? We were a matched set? Or maybe I'm just blocking the painful memories of working with Mole Manager at Godfather's. Maybe my pizza scented memories are just so clouded over. But apparently we quit.

We grabbed our jackets and Katie stormed out and I just followed her. Wondering where my next paycheck would be coming from. Wondering what I did to deserve such a fate. Wondering why I didn't just buy my own car so I could have control over my own destiny.

I believe we went back to pick up our paychecks. So that answered that question. You know, the one about the paycheck. But we were also getting ready to move. My dad was being transferred in his job. To Utah of all places. So I guess we would have to quit eventually.

If I were to go back to the Godfather's job now, I would have eaten more salads. I would have told Mole Manager he had a pizza consuming problem and should try the salad bar. I think I would still have worked with Katie, but I would make a deal about who drove when. In shifts. I may have joined in the argument with Mole Manager. Maybe. And I think I would have said, after Katie said we quit, that I didn't quit with her. Then maybe see if Mole Manager got a little pleased. The I would have said “But I do have something to say. I QUIT!” And then I would have stormed out right after Katie. And after that I would suggest that Katie and I go get some ice cream on the way home.

Boy do I love my non pizza making, no Mole Manager, lots of salad consuming and I drive my own car, thank you very much! job I have right now.


Kates said...

I don't remember what the argument was about either. And I don't remember him firing me or me saying I quit. That is just so unlike me! I was such a timid little thing. Hm... maybe with you there I felt empowered; Jennie will go along with me, so what do I have to lose? And I don't remember being so demanding with the car... oh, wait, I didn't get my drivers' license until we moved to Utah, so your memory is wrong! And I was only 15 when we worked there. I had to get special permission from the parents. I turned 16 the month before we moved to Utah.

Kim said...

Ewwww! The rolled-up burrito pizza - ewwww!! That make me gag a little.

Good for your sister for quitting! That's always pretty empowering.

I looove Godfather's pizza. L.O.V.E.

My sister and I always remember our growing-up years differently too. But I've realized that that's your truth - the one that you remember.