Sweet Girl and I just back from the local DQ, a five-minute trip that turned into half an hour. Apparently we weren't the only ones who thought a Friday-night ice cream treat would be nice.
It reminded me of my first job, which was at our local DQ. You would have to know how small my hometown was. We didn't even actually live in a TOWN; we sort of lived in the county. Our county had one high school, one fast-food restaurant, zero other restaurants, and zero traffic lights. It was a major controversy when the first traffic light went up; people in the county enjoyed the "quaint" fact that we had no big-city problems. Or conveniences.
The DQ was at the four-way stop just below the high school's football field. It was a hopping place on football Friday nights, since there was no where else to go. My friend "Heidi," the one I wrote about last week, worked there. There weren't a lot of places for teens to work in our county.
One Friday night, after a home football game, one of the other teen employees quit and walked out. Heidi called and asked if I wanted a job. I hadn't been looking for a job; I was only 15. Mom worked and couldn't haul me back and forth to work, so I hadn't applied for a job anywhere.
I took the job, making $1.50 an hour, which I believe was the minimum wage at that time. I got training on-the-spot during the Friday night rush. We had to wear white, so Mom and I drummed up some white double-knit pants (or were they polyester?) and a white blouse that I'm sure was hers. After that weekend, we went and bought some nurses' uniform pieces that I could wear to work.
I was so proud of having a job. I don't remember how many hours per week I worked; it couldn't have been many. I was smug when I learned how to do that little curlicue on top of the ice cream cones. (It isn't that difficult, as it turned out.) It was a tough job, particularly after football games. My manager, who was thrilled with my performance the night I was hired, wasn't always so easy to please. And I'm sure I was a typical teenager, often more concerned with my social life (such as it were) than doing the best job I could.
I also don't remember how long I worked there. I think it was about 8 months. I started during football season, and I got fired the following summer. I didn't get fired for something I did, but for something my mother did. But that's a story for another day.
It's probably a good thing I don't work at the DQ anymore. I would be as big as a house, I'm sure.