Back in 1982, I was at a low point in my life. I had recently dropped out of college. I drove out to California to find myself (I did not). I could not find an entry-level job due to an economic recession that hit the United States. I was renting a room in a bad neighborhood near the St. Paul Cathedral in St. Paul, Minnesota.
Desperate to make a buck, I went to a temp. agency and spent hours in the waiting room in case a spur-of-the-moment temporary job came up (because a permanent laborer was sick or there was an event where they needed additional personnel for the day). It was rather depressing. I looked around at the other people there and said to myself I did not belong with this group. The sad thing was, I was there, so yes, I did!
The first opportunity that came up for me was a dishwasher job at a seafood restaurant. One of their regular employees couldn’t make it and it was going to be a busy dining night. I drove to the place and with very little orientation, was put to work. Dirty dishes seems to come in non-stop for hours. In the middle of the shift, the other dishwasher, a regular, came up to me with a wine glass in his hand and said with a smile, “Watch this!” He proceeded to crush it with his bare hand. Shards of glass flew everywhere causing his hand to start bleeding profusely. I can’t believe he had done it on purpose! Was it just stupidity or did he just want to get out of work? He wrapped his hand in a towel and was rushed to the hospital I was left to wash the dishes by myself.
Dirty dishes stacked up fast. I could barely keep up. I persevered and finished the night without a broken plate. The owner was so impressed that he asked for me to come back the next night. And I did.
The second opportunity was for a night-shift job at a potato factory. They needed two people from the temp. agency, so one other guy drove with me to the plant. They gave me a white apron and a white hat and put me into a tiny room with no windows. There was a conveyor belt coming into one wall that would send french fries into a sorting machine. Then the fries would drop onto another belt and be taken out of the room. My job was to use a broom-like tool to keep the fries from gumming up the machine. I was the only one in the room. There was a camera mounted on a wall so that someone in a control room could see what was going on. I had no ability to stop the belts or machine, so if I had a problem, I was supposed to wave at the camera and supposedly someone would stop the processing line until the problem was solved.
A few hours into the tedious job, the fries started to stick together. All of a sudden, they bunched up and started to spill out of the machine and onto the ground. Within seconds there were more fries on the floor that I would ever eat in a lifetime! I frantically waved at the camera, but the fries kept coming. Eventually the conveyor belt stopped and a couple people came in with shovels to take the waste-high pile of fries to a dumpster in the back.
After the shift was over, I went home extremely tired. My clothes were permeated with french fry oil. It took a couple of days to get it all off my body.
A few months later I got a break and started an entry-level, white-collar, computer desk job in Detroit, Michigan. In a way, I look back at those two menial jobs with fondness. I learned humility. My attitude was to do the best I could regardless of what the task was. That attitude has helped me navigate tough times throughout my life.