One of the things I’m trying to do as a teacher is to get my high school students to land part time jobs. These kids (and all teens) are at the age where they should be exposed to real world experiences that they’ll have as adults. Not that these are spoiled kiddos but they need to see what it’s like to show up to a job as expected, follow directions from a boss and score the pride of ownership in the ways of a job completed and of course, a paycheck.
Some students tell me, “I won’t work fast food” or “I refuse to work weekends,” etc. I always tell them these jobs are NOT what you’ll be doing for the rest of your life but it’s vital to push yourself a bit to do plain old regular work.
And as far as ‘work’ goes, I’ve had a few of those jobs and they’re not always pleasant. Yet, they were worth doing.
From age 16 thru age 18 & I worked at the White Castle in Lombard.
Working the occasional weekend late hours of 11pm til 7am, known as the “Graveyard Shift”, I got a glimpse of what adult party life was like. White Castle was open 24/7 and the local bars & clubs would stop serving booze by 2:00 a.m. Minutes after the bars closed, we’d have lines out the door til about 4 a.m. Just ask Harold & Kumar about the joys of late-night sliders when you’re high or liquored up or both. Working those weekend graveyard shifts exposed me to a heavy stream of drinkers and stoners. Customers’’ slurring their words and laughing loud at just about anything said was the norm for those hours. Some of these sloshed folks were pretty funny and while serving them food we used to take notice of who came through our doors with the worst cases of bloodshot eyes.
Cleaning the men’s room on that shift was the worst. Drunks pissed in the sink, on the floor, walls, toilet paper rolls and once in a while these slobs even managed to squirt a little in the toilet bowl.
So many times, I went to take out garbage to the parking lot dumpsters in the middle of the night and found drunken Castle patrons passed out in their idling cars. Oftentimes, they had their door open and bagged food still sitting on the hood or roof. I would reach in, turn off the ignition and let the pooped partiers sleep it off. They’d later wake up to cold burgers and fries which may have been a great hangover cure.
Working at White Castle wasn’t to be my lifelong career but it sure taught me that sometimes you have to deal with nasty and strange stuff just to get by. While glad I don’t have to do that kind of work now, I’m still grateful for the experience to see just what it sometimes takes to make a buck.
WORKING AT WHITE CASTLE EXPOSED ME TO THE DIRTIER SIDE OF A JOB.
Upon graduating college in May of 1984, I spent that summer working day maintenance at Poplar Creek Music Theater in Hoffman Estates.
The morning after concerts, our job was to clean up the entire concert facility. Everything was picked up and maintained to look brand new. This included the parking lots, the plaza, seating area, the expansive lawn, backstage dressing rooms and all the restrooms.
One odd trend was cleaning those restrooms the morning after concerts. The men’s johns would have a little trash on the floor and small puddles of spilled suds but that was about it. However, the women’s restrooms? Whoa! They looked like those retail stores that get looted during race riots. Most of the time, we found ourselves knee deep in paper towels and toilet paper with lakes of sticky wine coolers and beer on the floor. The toilet stalls were such a disgusting sight they made me pine for the urine covered men’s room walls from my days at White Castle. Even after mellow concerts by Air Supply or Herb Alpert we’d clean up awful messes. I’d find bras and ladies panties stuffed in the metal boxes meant to store used feminine hygiene products. Apparently, some liquored up ladies decided “I’m sick of wearing this bra and rather than stash it in my purse, I’ll just leave it here.” I found the whole thing to be pretty funny and a little gross too.
Working such a sweaty and at times unpleasant job as this wasn’t exactly what a recent college grad should’ve been doing. Still, the pay was good and the hours I logged covered my financial needs for the summer of 1984 and for a time beyond that as well.
AN AERIAL VIEW OF POPLAR CREEK MUSIC THEATER. LOOKS CLEAN AS A WHISTLE FROM UP HERE, BUT THOSE WOMEN’S RESTROOMS WERE A DIFFERENT STORY!
The Poplar Creek gig was the last of my dirty jobs and things eventually got better in my employment. Still, I’m glad I soldiered on through those less than stellar tasks and recall them with fondness and relief that they’re in my past. Jobs well done!
Next Blog- Recalling a rough Memorial Day weekend.