If you wonder where I got my work ethic, it was from the knowledge that if I wanted something, I could get it, but I would have to work for it.
I worked Saturdays on my father's used car lot to earn enough to buy a banana seat for my bicycle (age 9), and by age 11 I was ready for the big time: a job at the neighborhood supermarket. I got my Dad to front me in by telling them I was 13 when I was only 11. I had my growth spurt, so you couldn't tell. That was followed by a position as "Super Scooper" (I gave myself that name, even used it on my tax return) I might have earned $1/per hour, but it was probably less.
Finally I was 17 going into my last year of high school. I needed a job. My landlord, Clifford Royce got me in at this factory in Addison IL. We made things out of wire. I made it through the winter, then got fired that spring when I asked the owner for a raise.
The Shanghai Inn did a brisk delivery business in downtown Chicago, and they paid daily. Sounded good to me. So now, we present, a few adventures of *"Chinese Food Delivery Guy".
Howard Dong, the owner and bossman, handed me a menu and said "put this on your dashboard and you will never get a parking ticket". Being 17, I believed him, and that menu became my talisman that protected me from all harm: Parking tickets, mugging, etc. Just to be safe, I always parked as close to the door of the building as possible. This often meant double parking, but sometimes meant triple parking. I wasn't taking any unnecessary chances.
Among some of the fun times; Waiting at the main post office for someone to meet you and pick up their order. This was not desirable on account of those people NEVER tipped. One time I went with a big order and waited / / and waited / / then decided I must be in the wrong location and drove to the other end of the block. The guy I was waiting for came up to my window all out of breath screaming at me. "Didn't you hear me? I was yelling at you from down the block!!" He was furious. How could I hear him with my extra cool Blankeput radio going at 90db? I thought he was going to reach in and strangle me!
Then there was the time I was at the welfare hotel with an order. This was a place where the desk clerk was behind a thick window and you push your little green pieces of paper through a special slot, and they pushed your key back at you.
Well, there was somebody ahead of me, it was around midnight, so I patiently waited my turn. After about 5 minutes or so, he wandered away and I approached the window.
Two big church ladies were behind the glass.
They said "Did you SEE what that man did?!?"
I said "No mame, Shanghai Chinese Delivery"
Ignoring that, they replied : "He was pushing his Rodney at us through the change slot!"
Ignoring that, I said "Can I take this order up to the customer, or can you call them to come down?"
It was only later in the elevator their words sank in and I about pissed myself laughing.
There are dozens of stories from this time; cars catching fire, taxi cabs crashing into me and so on.
18 months of this nonsense without ever being robbed. Somehow in the back of my mind I knew the odds were stacking up against me. One bright sunny afternoon, I was walking across a field to a low income highrise when I was struck with a panic attack.
It was time to find a new career.
* I lost my publicist from the ice cream days, hence, no fancy titles with this one.
I worked Saturdays on my father's used car lot to earn enough to buy a banana seat for my bicycle (age 9), and by age 11 I was ready for the big time: a job at the neighborhood supermarket. I got my Dad to front me in by telling them I was 13 when I was only 11. I had my growth spurt, so you couldn't tell. That was followed by a position as "Super Scooper" (I gave myself that name, even used it on my tax return) I might have earned $1/per hour, but it was probably less.
Finally I was 17 going into my last year of high school. I needed a job. My landlord, Clifford Royce got me in at this factory in Addison IL. We made things out of wire. I made it through the winter, then got fired that spring when I asked the owner for a raise.
The Shanghai Inn did a brisk delivery business in downtown Chicago, and they paid daily. Sounded good to me. So now, we present, a few adventures of *"Chinese Food Delivery Guy".
Howard Dong, the owner and bossman, handed me a menu and said "put this on your dashboard and you will never get a parking ticket". Being 17, I believed him, and that menu became my talisman that protected me from all harm: Parking tickets, mugging, etc. Just to be safe, I always parked as close to the door of the building as possible. This often meant double parking, but sometimes meant triple parking. I wasn't taking any unnecessary chances.
Among some of the fun times; Waiting at the main post office for someone to meet you and pick up their order. This was not desirable on account of those people NEVER tipped. One time I went with a big order and waited / / and waited / / then decided I must be in the wrong location and drove to the other end of the block. The guy I was waiting for came up to my window all out of breath screaming at me. "Didn't you hear me? I was yelling at you from down the block!!" He was furious. How could I hear him with my extra cool Blankeput radio going at 90db? I thought he was going to reach in and strangle me!
Then there was the time I was at the welfare hotel with an order. This was a place where the desk clerk was behind a thick window and you push your little green pieces of paper through a special slot, and they pushed your key back at you.
Well, there was somebody ahead of me, it was around midnight, so I patiently waited my turn. After about 5 minutes or so, he wandered away and I approached the window.
Two big church ladies were behind the glass.
They said "Did you SEE what that man did?!?"
I said "No mame, Shanghai Chinese Delivery"
Ignoring that, they replied : "He was pushing his Rodney at us through the change slot!"
Ignoring that, I said "Can I take this order up to the customer, or can you call them to come down?"
It was only later in the elevator their words sank in and I about pissed myself laughing.
There are dozens of stories from this time; cars catching fire, taxi cabs crashing into me and so on.
18 months of this nonsense without ever being robbed. Somehow in the back of my mind I knew the odds were stacking up against me. One bright sunny afternoon, I was walking across a field to a low income highrise when I was struck with a panic attack.
It was time to find a new career.
* I lost my publicist from the ice cream days, hence, no fancy titles with this one.
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