This One Time, At Band Camp…
I found work as a teenager at a wing and burger joint as a
dishwasher. The job wasn’t overly difficult, as I just washed the
dishes and helped very little with prep. I didn’t work with the food
or the customers and I only had to make sure that things were ready
for the night before and the next day after my shifts.
I was a member of my high school marching band (yes a band geek) and
time came for our yearly band camp. We had camp for a week, from 8-5
every day. I informed my boss three weeks, then two weeks, then a
week, then the weekend before camp that I would not be at work until
a few minutes after five, if I was scheduled at five. My school and
my job were only about five minutes apart, so they understood and
said that as long as I got there asap, there was no problem.
I was only working three or four nights that week anyway, and they
never said anything about my few minutes of time.
I came in that Friday for my shift and was called into the office,
not by my boss, the manager, but by the head cook who was acting as
the assistant manager. He told me that the manager wasn’t happy that
I’d been showing up late all week and that if I showed up late that
day, that they were firing me. I specifically told him again that I’d
informed everyone that I’d be there as soon as I could but couldn’t
get out of band practice before 5pm, and that they’d known for
several weeks that this was the case, and that no one had said
anything all week about it. He told me that he was only doing what he
was told and that I wasn’t welcome there.
I said fine, but I wanted the pack of cigarettes that my brother had
dropped off for me. He told me that my brother hadn’t dropped any off
and that the brand new pack sitting on the desk wasn’t mine, but his.
Bastard stole my cigarettes too.
That restaurant didn’t last very much longer. When they fired me, I
told them I would happily tell everyone I knew not to eat there. I
like to think I helped keep customers away.












