Dog 'n suds, phoenix, az. 1966

My first job was at Dog 'n Suds, Sunnyslope's very own drive-in restaurant, dead center on the corner of Central Ave. and Dunlap.  The logo was Route 66ish art work showing a poodle dressed as a high-end carhop, complete with tux and bow tie. The beloved mascot was en route to a red Corvette, balancing a hot dog and frosty mug of  Dog 'n Suds root beer on his silver tray. 

I'm still unclear as to why a company would choose to depict a pooch serving up one of its own for an tasty snack—but hey, nobody at Dog 'n Suds has ever solicited my opinion, then nor now. 

Anyway, Dog 'n Suds was the worst place I'd ever worked—this being my first job and all.  The owners, Marie and Al, were the nastiest people on the face of the Earth, ready with a screamfest at any little thing you did "wrong."  

But then, I did so many things wrong.  

I soon found out it was nothing personal.  They even yelled at the customers.  If someone happened to venture through the "Employees Only" door,  Marie would scream, "Can't you read?  If the Health Department saw you coming through that door, they would close us down!"  

One day, a lady ordered a couple of hamburgers and an orange drink for her little girl.  I'd just put the orange drink on the counter and was waiting for the burgers to be dressed when the lady came up and said, "My little girl's so thirsty. Do you mind if I get her drink?"  Before I could answer, she already had the drink in her hot little fist and was on her way to her table.  

Then Marie said real loud and nasty-like, "Don't come behind the counter! If the Health Department saw you doing that, they would close us down!"  

Hmm.  Sense a reoccurring theme here? 

So then the lady says, real sarcastic like, "Well, sorry, but I actually possess a health certificate!"

"Well, it's not on my wall!" Marie screamed back.

Marie's entire life was motivated by not getting closed down by the Heath Department.  Which was curious, given the state of the French fry machine.  And the fact that Dog 'n Suds did, in fact, eventually got closed down by the Heath Department. 

Plus, Marie and Al were really cheap.  They taught us to fill the big frosty mugs right to the brim with ice and then pour in the Pepsi so it looked like the customer was getting a whole lot of soda when what they were really getting was a whole lot of ice.   Then they'd charge 15¢ for it.  

Except, get this.  One day, a customer asked me for a glass of water.  (Marie wouldn't give you water unless you ask for it.)  Well, I filled the mug right to the brim with ice like I was taught to do with the Pepsi.  And then Marie—aka "the old bag"—says to me, "You don't have to put that much ice in it. Just enough to cool the water."  

Unbelievable!  They were using ice to save on Pepsi.  And then using water to save on ice.  And don't go asking for an extra Ketchup or anything like that or you'll get your head chewed off. 
 

I worked seventeen hours every week for six months. Every Monday, Wednesday and Friday, from 5:00 to 10:30.  Every week, same schedule. Same seventeen hours.  Now you'd think I'd get paid the same, right? 

But, nooooo.  

Sometimes, I got $8, sometimes $7, sometimes $6. And nobody could tell me why.  When I asked Al, he'd just hand me some baloney about Social Security and how they'd explain it all to me when I got to be 65. 

I'm 16!  Seriously? I have to wait five decades to confirm that you're screwing me?????

Finally, I just couldn't take another day of it.  My friend, Josie, had quit a couple of weeks before and my other friend, Carole, would have quit too except she really needed the 35¢ an hour.  

When Josie gave two weeks notice, Marie and Al were even nastier to her than usual.  She worked the two weeks, then waited two more weeks for her paycheck since they paid us two weeks late.  And then when she came in to get it, Marie and Al told her they weren't paying her because she had dropped some stuff.  

I guess Marie and Al thought nobody would find out.  But Josie went to Sunnyslope so I found out. And Carole went to Sunnyslope too, so she also found out.  The three of us had a big pow-wow in the cafeteria, ironically over hot dogs of all things.  Right then and there, I decided, no way was what happened to Josie going to happen to me.  I'd already worked overtime one Sunday and never gotten paid for that.  Still, I knew that even if I quit that very day, Al and Marie would have gotten three free days out of me.  

Well, there was nothing I could do about that.  But at least I would  make sure they would get no more.

When I told Carole and Josie I was quitting, it went something like this. 

Me: I'm going to quit. 

Carole: Are you?

Josie: Good girl. 

Me: Should I quit today or tomorrow?

Carole: Quit tomorrow. 

Me: Shut up, Carole.  Josie, what do you think?

Josie: Quit today. 

Me: Josie, you are absolutely right. I'm so glad I asked. 

 
The next day, I was supposed to be at work at 5:00, but I decided to go to a movie instead.  But then Gidget Goes Hawaiian came on TV so I decided to stay home and just not answer the phone.  Right around 5:00, the telephone started ringing. Of course, it had to be the old bag, so of course I didn't answer.  And since I was home all alone, nobody else answered either.  

Then about 6:30, I couldn't stand it any longer. The phone had been ringing steadily the whole time.  I decided to run next door and ask my friend Julie to come over and answer and tell the old bag I wasn't there.  

Except Julie's house was on fire!  

Well, I ran and grabbed the garden hose and tried to put it out, as any good neighbor would do.  John from across the street tried to help me but his hose wouldn't reach, and by the time he got three hoses connected together, the fire department had showed up.  Julie's older brother, Teddy, had been burned pretty bad and he was rolling around on the lawn, trying to put himself out. 

It turned out Teddy was siphoning gas out of a loaner car because he didn't want to take it back with of fuel in it—gas being 22¢ a gallon and all—so instead, he set himself on fire.  Well, he didn't mean to, but note to self, never siphon gas out of a car too close to the pilot light of a clothes dryer.  Teddy got second degree burns on his arms and legs, and his face was so scarred, he never looked the same.  For weeks afterward, the poor guy cried whenever anyone touched him.  

I was initially in a whole lot of trouble because the old bag had called Mom at the office and chewed her out. Finally, Mom just hung up on her, a far more logical course than the one I had taken. 

Then, Mom tried calling me. When I wasn't home—a.k.a. not answering—she figured I just died or something.  
I really should have been in a whole lot of trouble for (a) quitting without proper notice, and (b) not answering the phone, but my ace in the hole was saving Teddy's life.  (Okay, not really but it sure sounds good.)  Not only was Teddy still among the living but the insurance company Dad worked for didn't have to make a colossal payout like they would have had to if Teddy and his house had burned down.  I was the closest thing to Block Hero for several years running.   
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There's a lesson in here somewhere. I'm just not sure what it is. 

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