In Spring 1993, I got a job at Chevys (yes, that’s without an apostrophe) Fresh Mex. I wanted to be a busser–for the fame, the money, but most importantly, the women. But first, I had to do my time as a dishwasher. Okay, no problem, right? Well, mornings and afternoons I spent at swim practice. And I grudgingly attended classes during the day. But I was expected to work until midnight; my boss didn’t give two crusty ramekins that this was in clear violation of labor laws. So, after two shifts, I quit.

Lest you think I was unwilling to wash dishes in order to reach the coveted bussing position, I landed my 4th job after a few months of pestering the owner at Tony Roma’s. On lunch shifts, I was janitor, dishwasher, and busser. I worked there until I graduated high school in ’95.

Up next, it gets a little weird. An old man and thousands of cancelled checks. Stay tuned.

Click here to follow my job journey, starting in 1991. Share your thoughts on your own jobs in the comments.

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