Working at Long John’s

Working at Long John’s. My last two blogs have talked about summer jobs that I had during my college years. You can read about them here. I’ll summarize the experiences by saying, they didn’t go well.

Getting started

Dad was emphatic that I make money during the summer. I decided to steer clear of the Eastland Mall since I had struck out twice with those jobs. This time I headed east, down route 30. There were a number of newer businesses close to the Turnpike.

I would go east to the Turnpike and apply at everything on the right side of the road. When I reached the turnpike, I’d turn around and continue. (This might have been my Dad’s idea.)

Long John Silver’s was my first stop. And, they needed someone immediately! This should have been my first clue that this wasn’t a great place to work. But, I knew Dad would be happy. I started on the paperwork and they put me on the schedule. They were giving me 50 hours for my first week! (Again, Dad would be happy, lots of money.)

The Work

For those that are unfamiliar with Long John Silver’s. They are a seafood fast food restaurant. Everything is dropped into oil and fried. I was hired as a cook. This meant that I needed to drop stuff into the deep fat friers and then ‘fish’ it out. Everything was on a timer. I also made coleslaw. That’s about all I can remember that resembled ‘cooking’.

Part of the job included filtering out the hot oil every night. We added more oil to the vats after we filtered. These were enormous white blocks of shortening? It was a two person job.

I was partnered with a middle aged woman one evening. When it was time to add more oil she looked at me as I lifted the block and said, “If you burn me, I’ll kill you!” I believed her.

More than cooking

The store manager was Denny. I came in one day and Denny said, “You need to cut the grass.”. I was dressed in the Long John’s attire: polyester pants, a red white and blue striped polyester shirt and a goofy sort of babushka hat.

Denny didn’t expect me to change. He expected me to get outside immediately and cut the grass. So, that’s what I did.

I encountered a problem with the lawnmower and couldn’t finish the job. When I came inside to tell Denny, he held food in my direction and told me to take it to one of the tables. I said that I hadn’t cleaned up from cutting the grass and he replied that he didn’t care.

So, covered in sweat, with grass clippings clinging to my arms and the lingering odor of gasoline, I delivered the food to the customer.

One evening Denny told me to join him outside. We were going to be doing some work on the outside of the building. The buildings were styled to look like a pier. There were thick ropes and wooden buoys hanging from the exterior of the building.

Apparently Denny thought that some of the ropes needed to be replaced. He and I began cutting ropes and tying up the buoys. We worked together. He held the rope while I sawed through with a knife from the kitchen. Denny made me nervous and I probably had the beginnings of my family’s essential tremor. It was at this point that Denny nicknamed me, “Mr shaky hands”.

What a nice guy.

Quitting

I was getting a lot of hours. But I hated the work and Denny scared the heck out of me. I never knew what he was going to ask me to do next. And, he jumped down my throat if did something wrong, or slow.

Business was slow one afternoon and Denny asked me to go through the store to see if anyone wanted more coffee. So, I grabbed the pot and made the rounds. A few minutes later, he asked me to do it again. When he asked a third time I knew that I was badgering the customers, but he insisted.

I approached a table and asked a guy if there was anything I could do for him. He looked up at me and said, “Yes, I’d like you to leave me alone long enough to eat my food!”.

I told Denny and he was furious with me for upsetting a customer.

The final nail in the coffin occurred when I got my first day off. I had worked several days in a row. When you are in the thick of it, you don’t have much time to think. But now I had time to spend the day loathing my return to work. Maybe I could give trumpet lessons over the summer and make money! That would work, right?

I said something to my Mom. She knew it was a bad idea, but I quit anyway. Now all I needed to do was tell Dad.

Telling Dad

Dad worked hard. He raised 5 kids with the money that he made as a payroll supervisor at Fisher Body. I don’t remember him ever taking a sick day. (Holy cow! It just occurs to me. My Dad was Bruce Willis in Unbreakable!)

Dad came home. I can still feel the tension in the air. We sat down for dinner and I broke the news. My Dad had a way of saying, “Huh?!”. It’s impossible to describe. It was a combination of:

• What did you say?
• Are you stupid?
• No! you did not.
• I’m extremely angry!
• How could I have raised such a worthless human?

I told Dad that I was going to give trumpet lessons and make money. He told me I was stupid to give up a job that was easily going to put close to $1,000 in my pocket.

He was right, of course.

And..

When I returned to pick up my final check they told me that Denny was gone. He’d been fired a few days after I quit. Apparently there were numerous HR complaints against the guy and the company finally got rid of him.

I did try to give trumpet lessons. Two or three people responded to an ad that I ran in the local paper. I probably made $50 over the entire summer. I can’t believe that my Dad didn’t have a stroke.

At this point I was 0-3 for summer work and beginning to wonder if I’d ever be able to hold down a job.