FIRST JOB

A Secret to Keep & A Truth to Reveal

Two things that happened to me as a teen on my first job

After dropping out of school at seventeen, I started my first job as a short-order cook in a diner. On my first shift the owner, Bud, gave me a tour of the kitchen and explained my responsibilities.

Me? Responsible? That was hard to imagine.

He introduced me to Scott, who was another young high-school dropout being trained by an older cook, Donnie.

“Some shifts you’ll train with me,” Bud said, “other shifts, with Donnie.”

“Okay,” I said, taking in as much information as I could. It seemed like so much to remember.

“We’ll teach you how to make fish and chips, burgers, hot and cold sandwiches, and bake pies. You’ll get one free meal per shift, with the exception of steak.”

“Sounds great,” I said.

Soon I started trying foods I’d never eaten before, like grilled cheese, bacon and cheese, and my new favorite, western sandwiches — only with the onions left out. I loved restaurant food. I’d only ever eaten Fish and chips before.

Because I didn’t like onions, I stayed away from trying onion rings. Since a child, I’ve disliked the texture and taste. At first, when I tried eating onion rings, I broke open the outside batter, and pulled the long stringy onion out, and tossed it away, eating only the crispy batter. But after a few more weeks, I dunked the onion rings in ketchup and stopped picking them apart, and ate like a real grown-up.

Ruth and Bud were great — friendly and easygoing. Mid-afternoon when the restaurant was not busy, Ruth, the boss’s wife, invited me out of the kitchen to sit at the counter and chat like we were friends hanging out together, with the most amazing benefit of being paid while chatting.

Soon I learned more about the job and became more comfortable, enjoying the work — especially the cash I received in a brown envelope each payday. Earning my own money meant so much more than a handout from my mother. My money provided the reassurance I could leave home and make it on my own.

The secret I wanted to keep

Since I’d been out of school, Keith, a boy I’d been seeing, would bike past my home to meet up with me. Meeting up with him meant giving him what he wanted. Sometimes we’d plan a time and date, other times he’d just ride his bike by my house in the hopes I’d spot him. He’d wait at the end of the road, allowing for the time it’d take me to walk out and meet him.

I lived on a dead-end road, so symbolic of my relationship with Keith. Underneath the branches of the tall trees, we made ourselves comfortable, stretched out on a blanket of fallen pine needles, patches of blue sky peeking through the treetops.

Time seemed not to exist. I loved the stillness of the moment. The quiet. The calm. The illusion Keith wanted me for more than his sexual needs.

Deep down inside, I knew the truth that he only used me for sex. We did nothing else together. I had no hope for more between us. I accepted this sad concept of love, of what I deserved. What mattered most was being wanted. It was as close to love as I expected. I tried hard not to question it further.

One evening, there was a knock on the back-screen door at the diner. Donnie and I stopped what we were doing and wondered who it could be. No deliveries happened at night.

Donnie opened the door and stepped out into the darkness. I waited inside, biting the inside of my cheek, hoping all was okay.

He said, “There’s a guy out there who wants to see you.”

“What?”

Donnie opened the door again stuck his head out and asked, “Hey, what did you say your name was?” He turned back to me, “He says his name is Keith. Says you know him.”

“Tell him I’m working. Tell him to go away.”

Donnie turned back to me. “He says he won’t leave until you come out.”

“I’m not going out there.”

“Okay.” Donnie went back outside and tried reasoning with Keith, trying to convince him to leave.

He came back in shaking his head. “He won’t go. And if Bud finds him out there, he’ll throw a fit.”

“What am I going to do?” The last thing I wanted was for Bud to be angry and for me to lose my job.

“Go talk to him,” Donnie said. “Just make it quick. If Bud comes in, I’ll tell him you’re taking out the trash.”

“Thanks, Donnie.” I took off my apron. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t do it again.”

“Is he your boyfriend or something?”

“Kind of, I guess.” It was easier than trying to explain my actual relationship with Keith.

“Seems mighty important that he can’t wait for you to get off work.”

“Yeah, something must be up.” I didn’t tell Donnie what I expected it was. Keith only saw me for one reason.

I hurried down the back steps. Around the corner away from the light. In the darkness, I called out, “Keith. Keith, where are you?”

“Over here,” he whispered from behind the large metal garbage bins.

I stepped out, letting my eyes adjust to the darkness.

He grabbed hold of me before I saw him. His lips pressed against mine. The smell and taste of booze on his breath. I pushed away from him. “Are you drunk?”

“No,” he slurred and stumbled, almost falling.

“You can’t come here while I’m working.”

“You’re out here, aren’t you?” he chuckled.

“If I get caught, I’ll lose my job.”

He clung to me to maintain his balance. We swayed as if waltzing. He took hold of my head and pushed it down toward his crotch.

“No! I’m not.” I broke free of his grip. “Not here. Not now.”

“Come on, Barbara. I came all this way.”

“I got to get back to work.”

“I promise, it’ll be quick. He reached out and pulled me close, shoving my head down again. I decided it was easier to go along with what he wanted than continue fighting him, so I reached down and found his fly already open.

“Please, Barbara, just do it.” Unable to figure out how to get out of the situation, and since I had done it many times before for him, I took out his penis and dropped to my knees.

After he finished, I went back inside and pretended as if nothing had happened. I was very experienced at being able to switch off my emotions. Hide my feelings.

I tried to convince myself that this was normal. I twisted and reshaped it in my mind. Rewrote the truth.

Later that night at home, I stayed up and wrote a poem making light of the situation, burying the awful feelings, making it seem positive and fun, putting that mask on where signs of hurt would not show, where I smiled and acted like all was fun and I’d try to forget the secret I needed to keep.

A New Kind of Heat

You walk into the restaurant, give me a wink and a smile. And ask if I’ll slip out of the kitchen for a while.

It’s slipping out the back door of the kitchen, sweat dripping off my chin.

Making love to you in a dark vacant street. Glad to be out of the kitchen to a new kind of heat.

You order a cheeseburger, and something cool to drink, then you tell me to forget the dirty dishes in the sink.

It’s slipping out the back door of the kitchen, sweat dripping off my chin.

Making love to you in a dark vacant street. Glad to be out of the kitchen to a new kind of heat.

The truth I needed to reveal

Things were going great at work until Bud scheduled me to work on an evening I needed off to see my probation officer. I didn’t know what reason to give about why I needed time off. I feared they’d fire me if they learned the truth.

Each month, when I checked in with my probation officer, it all came back. What a shitty person I was because of what I’d done.

Being on probation sucked, like dragging a sack full of rocks behind me. Kathleen had been lucky, only six months of probation. Thanks to my mother’s interference, I got two years probation and a court-ordered psychiatrist.

I told the psychiatrist what I thought he wanted to hear, never mentioning the boys in the park or my plans of leaving home. I’d learned it was best to keep certain things to myself, like the real me. Tell people what they wanted to hear. That seemed the best solution.

Meeting with my probation officer took about fifteen minutes — such a waste of time. Not worth losing an evening from work. It took longer for my father to drive me to the appointments than for the appointments themselves. The questions were always the same. How have you been? What’s new? How are things with your parents? You staying out of trouble?

Yeah, yeah, yeah, been doing great, never better. Life’s fine. Everything’s wonderful. Smile. Smile. Look them in the eyes. Smile some more. Stress the point I’ve been staying out of trouble.

I went to work that night, deciding to reveal the truth to Bud and Ruth. To tell them of my shameful past. Deal with whatever came my way. I just hoped they wouldn’t lose trust in me.

Before the diner closed, I said, “There’s something I need to tell you.”

“What?” They appeared concerned like maybe I was quitting. Maybe they’d sensed my nervousness all shift.

“Last summer, I… I made a really bad mistake. I did something really bad. It was so dumb…” I couldn’t stop rambling. “I don’t know how I ever… I mean… I did something… I…”

“Honey, relax.” Ruth reached out and touched my shoulder. “Just say what’s on your mind.”

“It can’t be that bad,” Bud tried to lighten the mood. “Can it?”

“I’m on probation for shoplifting.”

I noticed their expressions change. Ruth blinked like she was witnessing a terrible scene in a movie. Bud’s mouth dropped open.

“I want you to know,” I continued, “I’ve learned my lesson. It was so dumb. And I haven’t stolen anything since. And I won’t… ever again!”

“It’s okay.” Ruth hugged me. God! Could people be so understanding?

“We won’t judge you,” Bud said. “You’ve been working out well here. Nothing’s changed.”

I let out a sigh of relief. Telling them was so much easier than I’d expected.

They didn’t hate me. They weren’t yelling and screaming at me like my mother, telling me how stupid or crazy I was.

“What do you need, honey?” Ruth asked.

“Next Thursday evening off to see my probation officer.”

“No problem,” Bud said. “Come to me and Ruth anytime. Don’t worry about a thing.”

“We’re glad you trusted us enough to tell us,” Ruth added, giving me another hug, something my mother never did to console me.

I went home lighter that night. Had a good night’s sleep. Grateful for people like Ruth and Bud.

The longer I worked at the diner, the more relaxed and capable I felt, and ready to step into the next phase of my life.