FOOT LONG HOTDOGS TALES OF WOE 10/25/06

My first job away from the nest of parental-owned business was at a certain fast-food restaurant noted for their hot dogs. This particular place was located at the Livingston Mall with headquarters in Coney Island or New York City. I was hired almost instantly. That should have told me something but didn't. We were allowed to eat what we wanted during breaks. I soon found out why.

The manager was a stubby little guy with a bad Brooklyn accent who looked the part of a gangster albeit in miniature. The assistant manager had beautiful long hair and she was somewhat of a pothead, as I was at that time. Upon punching in, she would immediately inform us minions what was safe and not safe for us to eat that day. The Pothead would groan as she would tell us, "Don't eat the hotdogs today" or "Don't eat the french fries." Stubby had implemented some money-saving practices in the area of purchasing foodstuff and it showed. The various foods he bought at bargain-basement discounts would have been rejected by the starving children in Biafra. Colorful is not always pretty.

I remember coming in one morning and spying Stubby vigorously washing the green slime off of some hot dogs he had purchased on the cheap. I also remember the black mold running through the potatoes-- also purchased on the cheap-- being cut up for fries. About the only thing that was consistently safe to eat was the ice cream. The pizza was also a questionable proposition.

Shirley and I were usually put on pizza together. We would freeze yesterday's leftovers to serve in the early part of today. Frozen pizza re-nuked loses in flavor. Add the stoned hippy factor and well, ya just never knew. We were young enough and lacked enough developed conscience not to care that sprinkling "herb" on pizza was very wrong. It was a matter of pride for both of us when some old lady would come back for more, telling us it was the best pizza she ever had. I regret that now but I can't fix that part of my past. Being as the statue of limitations ran out on that particular criminal behavior more than a quarter of century ago, the legal system can't fix it either.

I lasted there three months and then I went on to pastures which even if not greener were less laden with bacterial masses. Even now, it is difficult for me to eat at any fast-food place where the help is underloved and underpaid. I am quite sure that there is a Stubby in the backroom somewhere looking to decrease the overhead on his little piece of the franchised scene in any way that he can.

~sapphoq on life