When I was in high school, I got a job at McDonald's restaurant in Metro Center Mall in Phoenix, Arizona. If I recall correctly, it was something like January 1987. Two of my friends from high school also worked there, John Romberg (who was hired first) and Adam Collins (second). Adam and I lied about our age so that we could work in the grill area, since one had to be 16 years of age to do so (that magic age when it is deemed OK to drive cars and prepare food for others, I guess).

The interview was simple, of course. I had to answer questions, but not the sorts of questions you would normally expect during a "Real" interview. I don't remember exactly what sorts of things were asked of me, but it was basically something like "Will you show up here when we tell you to?" I said, yes, I was hired.

There was an interesting cast of characters. It was a co-op store, one of three owned by a guy who was affectionately known as "That Cheap Fucker." His other stores were in downtown Phoenix, and this was before downtown became yuppie-central. I worked at one of those stores on two occasions.

Some of the other people I came across included Ralph and Jenny the crew leaders, Debbie from Tennessee who hated it when I mocked her cute accent, Michelle Parks, the store manager who let me rub her back and then some on several occasions (remember, I was 16 at the time... what more could I have asked for?), Shannon, who taught me everything I needed to know about getting the highest per-hour total possible, and others. These are the ones who stick in my memory. There were others, and perhaps I will recall more as I tap this in.

So there I was, my first day on the job, clad in some sort of polyester blend uniform (crappy-red with grey and black horizontal stripes up top, grey pants, black Payless Shoesource shoes, which ended up needing replacement every 3 months or so due to grease) and forced to work "Window," which was an archaic reference to the "Good ol' Days" when the McDonald's laborer was protected from the fast-food-eating public by a sheet of glass. Not so any longer, this was a computerized cash register (with text on the buttons... before touch screens with food icons) sitting on a stainless steel counter top. Cool.

That first day was an interesting one. It seems that Adam and John had mentioned me a few times in the weeks that they worked there before me, and they were ready for me. Shannon was the lucky winner in the trainer lotto, so it was her job to show me where things were and to show me how to interact with customers (only after an informative session with a 3/4-inch video entitled "Make it Fast, Make it Friendly" which featured a woman named Jill, Hamburger University graduate, who would become a manager at our store one day) and how to survive in the fiercely-competitive front line that was this so-called "Window." And a fine job she did, sort of.

Shannon was a character. A good one, but a character nonetheless. We hated each other moments after I punched my time card, but I'm not sure why. Or maybe I can't remember. She showed me where all of the cups and foam and soda syrups and freezer and ketchups were, where the garbage bags and mops were, how to "Drop Fries" and how to fill out grill slips for special orders (like when people order a cheeseburger without meat... called a Grilled Cheese in some states. That is a special grill order). That was the first 30 minutes or so, but I got it, for the most part. Shannon was fast, to be sure, and she was showing this speed all day. It was a Saturday, afterall.

This was Metro Center Mall, the then-biggest mall in Arizona, and this was a really big McDonald's, so there was room for about 100 people to be in line at any given time. Around the holidays, like the winter shopping season, this capacity was readily exceeded, of course, but on a good Saturday there was sometimes a moment to breath between customers. My first day there was one of those typical Saturdays, so once the front line found itself clamoring for help, Shannon lead me to my register and informed me that she would be "Backing me up" while I learned how to ring things up. Talk about sink-or-swim! I have never seem anyone assemble so much food from so many places so quickly, before or since, but I soon realized that I was in the presence of a stud-ette, to be sure. Sadly, I was not so adept at handling my register, and I was frequently informed of this. Clearly, our relationship could not have gotten much worse.

I mentioned John and Adam already. They were working in the grill area, where spinning bun spatulas, frequent laughter, the barks of the shot caller, and the smell of pickles drove the whole operation. They had this protocol, where this caller would ask for a certain number of a particular item, and the lucky cook would answer with the order and a courteous "Thank You!" Once the food was done, another announcement of the product, and a response from the shot caller. It went something like this:

Caller:I need 12 hamburgers, Please.

Cook:12 Hamburgers, Thank You

Cook:12 Hamburgers, Up

Caller:12 Hamburgers, Thank You

So it was pretty organized, and I would learn later that this simple protocol was actually very practical when there were about 40 different things going on at any one time. There were tricky little conditionals, even, like "On the Turn," which meant the request should have been carried out when the current requested lot was flipped on the grill. "On the Pull," "On the Seer," and so on, for when the burgers were removed from the grill, or even when they were pressed down firmly with a large aluminum puck-like device. All-in-all, pretty amazing, since there were occasions when that small vocabulary was about all the common language that we all shared.

But I digress. I didn't start working in the grill area until about two months later, when someone called in sick I think. In the mean time, I was forced to tend to customers and their silliness, and then to occasionally go out into the "Lobby" and pick up trays, empty the trash, clean off tables, sweep, mop, and deal with little kids. I would say that this sort of thing was really a good experience (in hind sight, of course), since it really showed me how to deal with crappy experiences, especially where people are concerned.