Workin For a Living

When I graduated in 1975 I was only 17. I was the youngest in the graduating class. I didn't ever have to study much, I got decent grades. Towards the end of my senior year, the teachers went out on strike. The strike started right before my class of junior secretaries were planning to take our last school related trip to Chicago. Because reservations were made, fees already paid off we went. The teachers that were with us were on strike. This wasn't an entire senior class trip, but a conference for IOE=Inner Office Education.

There were 17 of us and we'd been in this class for 2 years. Chicago was pretty fun, and since the teacher chaperones were basically on strike, we got a lot of freedom. It was a pretty cool trip, that four days in Chicago. Upon our return, we didn't go back to school. The strike lasted longer than expected and the seniors were in jeopardy of not having a graduation ceremony. I'm sure that's something the Union put out there, so parents would put pressure on the school board to settle. Graduation was important.

That strategy worked, and we graduated on schedule. There was no time for finals, so we graduated with the grades we had. Thankfully mine were fine, and I walked across the stage when my name was called. I didn't do the usual after graduation party. I went to the lake with the posse and various other posse wannabes.

For the first summer after graduation I worked at the Library. I only did it through the summer, I really hated it. It was so boring. I was set to start college that fall, so I was just working to have the cash I needed to get me through the summer.

I began my college career, also in 1975 still only 17. My birthday is in December. College was nothing like high school. You actually had to study. Since I never had to study in high school, I didn't know how to study. Not a clue. I left the Library and started a job in the kitchen at a Nursing Home. I worked there for a couple years. Go to school, go to work, party, repeat if needed.

I spent two years on academic probation. My grades reflected lack of study. I did well in some classes and not so well in others. I realise about myself, I do better with something that interests me. That pattern continued until I got sick. The time frame is when I was living in that one room apartment with room-mate #1, she worked at this nursing home as well. I very nearly passed out while doing dishes after lunch. I was taken to the break room, nurses were called from their duties to see what was wrong. The first nurse to arrive took one look at me and said that my eyes and skin were yellow. I was sent home immediately. Room-mate #1 took me home. I called my mom, told her how sick I was and what my symptoms were.

When I went to the doctor, he took one look at me and asked which nursing home I worked at. After I told him he said that he had just treated one of our patients for hepatitis. His logical and correct conclusion was since I was feeding this man and handling his dishes I had contracted his illness. Blood tests were taken and it was confirmed, I had hepatitis. It wasn't the bad kind that can kill you, it was the normal kind that just makes you wish you would die.

I was confined to home, quarantined, for several weeks. That's how room-mate #1 ended up moving in with my school friend, that she had been dating. Nobody wanted to be around me. Nobody but George. He would sneak over as often as he could. He called my mom and told her I was going to go nuts from boredom. We didn't have a phone in that apartment, so George would come and keep tabs on me and report to my mom what was going on.

I was delirious most of that time, so sick. Mom came over to bring me a TV and stuff to keep me occupied while I was confined. It took her a couple minutes of coaxing before she could even get me to answer the door. George always locked it when he left.

My recovery would have been much quicker had I followed doctors orders. Every time I would start feeling human, I would go out. Hang with the posse or do whatever. I wasn't yellow any more. After a couple days of this, I would end up back in bed, miserable.

After I fully recovered, it was too late to finish the quarter of school, so I withdrew. I didn't want to go back to work at the nursing home. Nobody told me about worker's comp, so I didn't apply. So broke I am, no job, no income. I went to work at Burger King. It was a new store, all the employees were trained together, new hires. None of our crew came from other Burger Kings in the area. We were a well oiled machine. When inspections would come, some of us were sent to other BK's to help them pass their inspections.

We had a blast. I knew a couple of the people, school friend and George's Becky. He was in between my sister and my brother class wise. So he was one of their school friends, not mine. Deb friends frequented our BK because it was conveniently located to their homes or jobs. I pretty much worked the drive thru. That was a dangerous job, the drive thru. I never knew what was going to come across that speaker once I said, Hi welcome to Burger King, may I take your order? Often times I would turn the speaker off if was nearing time for Deb friends to get off work. Sometimes I would forget and the whole restaurant would hear something like, hey Cindy, I'll eat your pussy for a whopper. Funny? Hilarious! But I always got all flustered and embarrassed. Becky worked up front, and Fry, the school friend worked in the back. Fry was still in high school, he was in that program where you attend classes in the morning and then work in the afternoon. Fry walked to work every day carrying his uniform and would change into his work clothes upon his arrival. His walk was long, he was always fried when he got to work. That's how he got the tag Fry. He would get high during his walk, and would arrive high every day. He would hide his school clothes and it was always someones job to watch where he hid his clothes.

He was very quiet, very little, and very stoned. Every day he would eat a double cheeseburger with only mayo, and always had extra mayo. I've never seen anyone eat so much mayo on anyhting. We had a blast with him. As soon as someone would find his clothes, in the water they went and then into the freezer. I don't think he ever really minded, mainly because if we were successful that meant I would take him home after work in his BK uniform and he didn't have to walk. His parents never once took that kid to work or picked him up. I'm sure that's why he was so skinny. Fry and Becky were frequent hanger outers at apartment #2, the party house



George even got a job there, but he didn't last very long. He hated it even though Becky and I worked there. He just hated it. I worked there for a couple of years. We all got along, and had great times. One day the assistant manager caught the whole grill thing on fire because of a really stupid mistake. I mumbled under my breath "what a dumb ass", the manager heard it. I was fired for insubordination.

The unemployment people didn't think I was insubordinant, and I was awarded unemployment. Leap said not to worry about finding another job, he would take care of us. Leap was sub-contracting from his dad, doing roof jobs all over town with his cousin Greg and Mike. We had moved into our newly rented house. Christmas tree season was approaching. I spent my days taking him lunch, and hanging with the posse whenever I could.

Not long after we moved into that house, Leap's friend Jack needed a place to stay. He was divorcing his wife, who just happened to be a school friend of mine. Jack moves into our basement. Yeah, Leap said he would take care of us. He sure did, moving Jack in. I was against it from the beginning. Jack had a little boy about Jeremy's age, and he came with baggage. His first rent payment was a freezer full of deer meat. YUCK, I hated cooking it, I hated the smell, it just grossed me out. I secretly would cook the ground deer and feed it to the dogs.

Leap and Jack would go hunting every chance they got. They would park in this cemetary and go out to the woods. If they didn't get out of the woods before dusk, the car would be towed and they would be cited for trespassing, EVERY SINGLE TIME. My first time making Thanksgiving dinner, I get the dreaded call, please come and get us out of jail, the car has been towed. I left the house with the turkey in the oven. Went and got the two great hunters, bailed the car out of jail for the tenth time and came home to a burned turkey. I dared them to say a word, I dared them to not eat it. I was so mad and they knew better. I thoroughly enjoyed watching them choke down that dinner. They insisted it was the best Thanksgiving dinner they had ever eaten. So they aren't brain-dead........yet.