Great Jobs: Chapter 2-You're Fired!

By Leocthasme

While I was still in High School, I got a job in the evenings after school and on weekends at one of the first ‘super markets’ in Saint Louis. In order to get to work in the evenings, I had to hop the school bus that headed north toward Natural Bridge Road.

Now you might wonder why a kid from South Saint Louis would find a job at a store so far away from home. Well, that should be obvious, the sister store that was located close to home in South Saint Louis, had a manager that knew me. He also knew I had a ‘seeing’ problem so he avoided my job seeking attempts.

So, what else, I looked elsewhere, and was readily hired at the north side store where my disabilities were not known nor did any body ask for such information in those days. As long as I was only going to be a bagger and carry out boy, with a fabulous wage of 20 cents an hour, plus tips, if any, no one really cared. On the average weekends after about 21 hours of work, 5 or 6 hours Friday evening after school and 12 to 16 hours on Saturday my pay ‘after taxes’ was the bountiful sum of $3.76. Great work if you can get it.

That supported the gas necessary for my ‘31 Studebaker, 11 cents a gallon back then, and allowed me to squire the gals around on Sundays. But, alas, such windfalls are only temporary. I got fired from this fabulous job.

‘So what happened”? my mom asked.

“Well, I got fired mom”.

“NOW (with emphasis), what did you do”?

“They think I stole a candy bar”.

“Did you (more emphasis)”?

“Not really, I was working in the stock room and since I didn’t have anything to eat since lunch at school, I took a Baby Ruth bar and ate it. I stuck the wrapper in my pocket and was going to pay for it when I got my break.”

“So, did you”?

“No, I didn’t get a chance”.

“Why not”?

“Well, Tom, the wise guy, stock boy who is always plugging for a promotion, went right to the manager and told him that I took a candy bar, a 5 cent candy bar no less”.

“And…”?

“Well, the manager fired me for stealing, but then as an afterthought, as I walked out the door, I tossed the nickel on the cashier’s desk, and told the manager what to do with such a fabulous job”.

“Oh, Oh (lots of emphasis now) your daddy and his brothers, along with your grandfather, most all of them railroad workers and ball players, had quite the vocabulary, and I am sure you minced no words. It’s a shame you learn, some things, so well”.

“Gee, mom, what would you expect from your husband’s son”?

“Let’s don’t get personal, sonny”