I babysat for lots of neighborhood kids, 50cents/hour. I tried to talk the other babysitters into raising our prices to $0.75, but no one else would. I did it anyway. I also corrected math homework sheets for a middle-school teacher who was a single mom. In college I had word-study jobs: routing phone calls; serving up food in the dining hall; and modeling for an art class (paid the best).
I worked at a Dunkin Donuts at age 15. Lots of fun stories about that. Also worked at a Wendy's whilst in college. Can I prove any of this, no. Meanwhile, I have a neighbor and a facebook friend who insist that the VP never worked at a McDonalds. The misinformation is strong with these people.
There's something about working at places like Dunkin and Wendy's. It shapes your outlook, I believe, and I'm glad you had those opportunities.
Here's my question -- does your neighbor ALSO believe she's unqualified? I saw a "Live from Philly" thing last night on MSNBC, and Alex Wagner was talking to a room of (mostly young) black Trump supporters who said she was unqualified. When asked -- "but what about being a DA, AG and VP?" They said it didn't matter because Trump had BUSINESS experience. What was interesting to me was that they all spoke, um -- inelegantly (nicest way I can put it) - they didn't understand the issues, and mostly hated immigrants, even though a lot of THEM were immigrants -- they believe all the new immigrants are criminals. It was painful to watch.
Never knew you worked in a Kosher Deli; even more that you actually smoked a Pastrami. I was counsel to Zion Kosher, back in the day, who supplied fully smoked Pastramis to Kosher delis and even non kosher restaurants all over the Eastern U.S. They are long gone and, with them, really good Pastramis anywhere.
My first job was at 13, working in my Dad's income tax preparation business during tax season. This was before copying machines. People came in, my Dad or others would prepare their forms and my job was to copy them. I did that until I was 15, when I started preparing tax returns. I did that after school, continuing the business after my Dad died until my second year of Law School, when I sold the lease and business to one of the accountants who worked for me because it was too much of a load.
I had many other jobs growing up because it was wartime and so much part time work was available.
I didn't know you did taxes! HOW COOL!!! I wish I'd known years ago, I could have saved a ton of money that I pay to my tax accountants/lawyers.
The deli I worked in was opened in 1919, and I worked for the sons of the original owner. I got the job because all the sons (and their sister, who didn't work at the deli) had sons, all of whom worked at the deli as "good kids". As in "be a good kid and go to the bakery and get change" or "be a good kid and get uncle Manny some scotch." The last son had graduated college and they were talking behind the counter about advertising for a good kid. I was eating lunch there and heard them, and went over to apply. My interview included questions about whether I'd ever worked in a restaurant (and I had lots of experience), what my GPA was (they didn't want anyone who was struggling school), what my parents did for a living, what I wanted to be when I got out of school, and which synagogue I went to for high holidays. They hired me on the spot.
I was paid on Mondays. Everyone else was handed their pay -- I was handed a brown paper bag with my pay on the bottom, and food above it, because I wouldn't be back until Friday, and they thought I was a little on the thin side ("We worry about TB").
It was interesting, because they insisted that I join them for Seder, Break Fast, etc. with the whole mishpochah ("Your family is so far away.")
The place had the counter on the left when you came in. On the right and towards the back were the tables and booths. There was a basement (where we made the pickles) and a staircase in the back of the table area up to the kitchen -- where there were stoves, and smokers -- everything very vintage - they made food the way their dad had raised them.
Thank you, Jessica. After I posted, I started to remember more temporary, part-time, jobs that I'd had in highschool and college. Worst one: assistant underwriter at shady and racist insurance company; best one: staffing the reserve room at the college library, where I could study and get paid!
AH! Those temp jobs! I did a stint at a temp agency when I was young and my best gig was 2 days at an Army Commissary, the day before, and the day OF, when people got paid. (This is how long ago it was....) my job was to give a bottle of soda to everyone who bought a certain brand of cigarettes in a carton - plus some cigarette swag matching their brand. They let me go home with a collection of playing cards, ball caps, tee shirts and drink glasses.
Love this! Worked the dorm front desk, sorting mail, greeting parents and just odd stuff. Summers worked the whole summer as a camp counselor w/one day off a month and every other night off. Fun times but I learned so much about getting along with literally everybody, some parents were nuts back in the 60's too.
Well... my FIRST job was in 1961 - washing sheet pans in a neighborhood bakery. 7am-9am on Saturday mornings. I was NINE! My dad knew the owner and got me the job to get me out of the house. I was a ridiculously shy kid who needed to get out of my shell. The owner, Neils, was a bit of a jerk - and very demanding, wanting things done HIS way. I definitely learned how to do them his way.
Over time, Hans, the old baker, taught me how to do things like make Danish pastries, coffee rings and all sorts of stuff. He was gruff and exacting, but very patient. It's totally where I fell in love with baking. Bea and Ann were the two waitresses/short order cooks who worked the long counter. They also took me under their wings and I learned how to take orders, cook on a grill, work a cash register, count back change - this was all cash-only pre-credit cards. Steve - the donut maker - had me decorating donuts, filling maple bars, jelly donuts, all that fun stuff. Every one of them constantly corrected me until I got it right - and I didn't mind because I WANTED to do it right. I worked there for 5 years.
And after that, I always had a job. Around 1968, I went on what was called "4/4" - 4 hours of school and 4 hours of work. I was a busboy at Blum's in Downtown San Francisco - first job I was ever fired from - and then started at a local single owner pizza parlor, delivering pizza in my 1957 Ford Fairlane, moving up to dishwasher and then pizza cook - hand-spun pizza. Another exacting boss. I worked at Pirro's until I went into The Navy. I paid my parents "room and board" every paycheck. After getting out of the Navy and moving out of the ancestral home, my mom gave me a check for a couple thousand dollars, saying it was the room and board money I had given them.
That shy little boy definitely came out - of his shell, too!
I learned so much about people. It really paved the way for me to be successful in life - how to manage others, how to be exacting but fair, and how to know when to fire someone and when to give another chance.
That's such a terrific story. I'm glad you developed baking skills early -- it's served you well -- AND you are certainly not "in a shell" -- you rock!
When I worked in the Jewish Alps, I watched the bakers making danish --- they were preparing for a horde -- so it took a whole long table on which the dough was spread out (after proofing) and then they put on the cinnamon, sugar, nuts, butter -- and then FOUR of them would roll it up, cut into rounds, and add toppings. It was fun to watch. I miss real danish!
I babysat for lots of neighborhood kids, 50cents/hour. I tried to talk the other babysitters into raising our prices to $0.75, but no one else would. I did it anyway. I also corrected math homework sheets for a middle-school teacher who was a single mom. In college I had word-study jobs: routing phone calls; serving up food in the dining hall; and modeling for an art class (paid the best).
AWESOME start to political organizing! Even not getting them to agree was a learning experience.
I worked at a Dunkin Donuts at age 15. Lots of fun stories about that. Also worked at a Wendy's whilst in college. Can I prove any of this, no. Meanwhile, I have a neighbor and a facebook friend who insist that the VP never worked at a McDonalds. The misinformation is strong with these people.
There's something about working at places like Dunkin and Wendy's. It shapes your outlook, I believe, and I'm glad you had those opportunities.
Here's my question -- does your neighbor ALSO believe she's unqualified? I saw a "Live from Philly" thing last night on MSNBC, and Alex Wagner was talking to a room of (mostly young) black Trump supporters who said she was unqualified. When asked -- "but what about being a DA, AG and VP?" They said it didn't matter because Trump had BUSINESS experience. What was interesting to me was that they all spoke, um -- inelegantly (nicest way I can put it) - they didn't understand the issues, and mostly hated immigrants, even though a lot of THEM were immigrants -- they believe all the new immigrants are criminals. It was painful to watch.
Never knew you worked in a Kosher Deli; even more that you actually smoked a Pastrami. I was counsel to Zion Kosher, back in the day, who supplied fully smoked Pastramis to Kosher delis and even non kosher restaurants all over the Eastern U.S. They are long gone and, with them, really good Pastramis anywhere.
My first job was at 13, working in my Dad's income tax preparation business during tax season. This was before copying machines. People came in, my Dad or others would prepare their forms and my job was to copy them. I did that until I was 15, when I started preparing tax returns. I did that after school, continuing the business after my Dad died until my second year of Law School, when I sold the lease and business to one of the accountants who worked for me because it was too much of a load.
I had many other jobs growing up because it was wartime and so much part time work was available.
I didn't know you did taxes! HOW COOL!!! I wish I'd known years ago, I could have saved a ton of money that I pay to my tax accountants/lawyers.
The deli I worked in was opened in 1919, and I worked for the sons of the original owner. I got the job because all the sons (and their sister, who didn't work at the deli) had sons, all of whom worked at the deli as "good kids". As in "be a good kid and go to the bakery and get change" or "be a good kid and get uncle Manny some scotch." The last son had graduated college and they were talking behind the counter about advertising for a good kid. I was eating lunch there and heard them, and went over to apply. My interview included questions about whether I'd ever worked in a restaurant (and I had lots of experience), what my GPA was (they didn't want anyone who was struggling school), what my parents did for a living, what I wanted to be when I got out of school, and which synagogue I went to for high holidays. They hired me on the spot.
I was paid on Mondays. Everyone else was handed their pay -- I was handed a brown paper bag with my pay on the bottom, and food above it, because I wouldn't be back until Friday, and they thought I was a little on the thin side ("We worry about TB").
It was interesting, because they insisted that I join them for Seder, Break Fast, etc. with the whole mishpochah ("Your family is so far away.")
The place had the counter on the left when you came in. On the right and towards the back were the tables and booths. There was a basement (where we made the pickles) and a staircase in the back of the table area up to the kitchen -- where there were stoves, and smokers -- everything very vintage - they made food the way their dad had raised them.
Thank you, Jessica. After I posted, I started to remember more temporary, part-time, jobs that I'd had in highschool and college. Worst one: assistant underwriter at shady and racist insurance company; best one: staffing the reserve room at the college library, where I could study and get paid!
AH! Those temp jobs! I did a stint at a temp agency when I was young and my best gig was 2 days at an Army Commissary, the day before, and the day OF, when people got paid. (This is how long ago it was....) my job was to give a bottle of soda to everyone who bought a certain brand of cigarettes in a carton - plus some cigarette swag matching their brand. They let me go home with a collection of playing cards, ball caps, tee shirts and drink glasses.
The more we write, the more I learn. We have much to share.
You've always been my favourite uncle AND I HAD CHOICES <big grin>
Love this! Worked the dorm front desk, sorting mail, greeting parents and just odd stuff. Summers worked the whole summer as a camp counselor w/one day off a month and every other night off. Fun times but I learned so much about getting along with literally everybody, some parents were nuts back in the 60's too.
Thanks for sharing. I'm glad that you learned to get along with people through your early employment. And yeah -- parents were nuts back then!
Well... my FIRST job was in 1961 - washing sheet pans in a neighborhood bakery. 7am-9am on Saturday mornings. I was NINE! My dad knew the owner and got me the job to get me out of the house. I was a ridiculously shy kid who needed to get out of my shell. The owner, Neils, was a bit of a jerk - and very demanding, wanting things done HIS way. I definitely learned how to do them his way.
Over time, Hans, the old baker, taught me how to do things like make Danish pastries, coffee rings and all sorts of stuff. He was gruff and exacting, but very patient. It's totally where I fell in love with baking. Bea and Ann were the two waitresses/short order cooks who worked the long counter. They also took me under their wings and I learned how to take orders, cook on a grill, work a cash register, count back change - this was all cash-only pre-credit cards. Steve - the donut maker - had me decorating donuts, filling maple bars, jelly donuts, all that fun stuff. Every one of them constantly corrected me until I got it right - and I didn't mind because I WANTED to do it right. I worked there for 5 years.
And after that, I always had a job. Around 1968, I went on what was called "4/4" - 4 hours of school and 4 hours of work. I was a busboy at Blum's in Downtown San Francisco - first job I was ever fired from - and then started at a local single owner pizza parlor, delivering pizza in my 1957 Ford Fairlane, moving up to dishwasher and then pizza cook - hand-spun pizza. Another exacting boss. I worked at Pirro's until I went into The Navy. I paid my parents "room and board" every paycheck. After getting out of the Navy and moving out of the ancestral home, my mom gave me a check for a couple thousand dollars, saying it was the room and board money I had given them.
That shy little boy definitely came out - of his shell, too!
I learned so much about people. It really paved the way for me to be successful in life - how to manage others, how to be exacting but fair, and how to know when to fire someone and when to give another chance.
That's such a terrific story. I'm glad you developed baking skills early -- it's served you well -- AND you are certainly not "in a shell" -- you rock!
When I worked in the Jewish Alps, I watched the bakers making danish --- they were preparing for a horde -- so it took a whole long table on which the dough was spread out (after proofing) and then they put on the cinnamon, sugar, nuts, butter -- and then FOUR of them would roll it up, cut into rounds, and add toppings. It was fun to watch. I miss real danish!
Speaking of The Navy... too long to repost here, but read my take on making rolls in Uncle Sam's Yacht Club! https://tjrecipes.com/2017/04/kolaches/