Then I got a job at Joe’s Diner. I liked it right away.
Joe hired me because one of his waitresses quit in the middle of a breakfast rush, and I happened to walk in asking if he needed help.
He looked me up and down and said, “You ever carried three plates at once?”
I said, “No.”
He shrugged. “You got ten minutes to learn.”
Then I got a job at Joe’s Diner.
That was Joe — blunt, mean-looking, built like a fridge, and somehow one of the more decent people I had ever met.
At the end of long shifts, he’d shove a burger and fries at me and say, “Eat before you pass out and make extra paperwork for me.”
Sometimes after closing, I stayed and helped wipe down counters while he complained about suppliers, food costs, broken freezers, and people who ordered eggs “medium-medium-well.”
