I was inspired the other day with a post via PISSED at The Feral Irishman
My First Job
I was twelve or thirteeen years old. My parents worked on Sunday morning after church at a place called Mr Snacks. It was home to a dozen or more lunch wagons that would bring coffee, fresh food and snacks all over the Boston area. My parents, aunts, and all us kids made sandwiches for the trucks and the men to pickup on Monday morning. It was an assembly line with kids at either end lining up the sliced bread or rolls and at the far end wrapping the finished goods. My aunt would call out the sandwich orders "Toasted or Not?" and my dad handled the slicer for meats and cheeses. Later my dad introduced me to one of the drivers, a fellow named Mr. Nick. He ran a lunch wagon through the construction sites of Medford,Somerville and Cambridge. After school most days I would help Mr Nick with the truck, boiling out the coffee urns, hosing down the soft drinks bins, restacking the cokes and yohoos and restocking the candy. Then clearing out the hot sandwiches and pastries from the warming cabinet in the back. A top to bottom scrub on all surfaces every day. On Saturdays a kid could make 5 bucks a truck just doing a wash and wipe on each vehicle. The hot food could not be refrigerated and/or resold so I was often sent back up the house with armloads of sandwiches and pasteries like meatball subs, steak and cheese, lemon squares and such. I was lucky enough to do this for several years before highschool and is something I won't ever forget
No comments:
Post a Comment