On the road for my generation.
Page 13:
"...I signed up with a municipal program designed to get poor teens off the street and into jobs. Two of my friends had already been hired through the program to hang out in city parks and paint park benches green. Upon signing up, I expressed my desire for the bench-painting dream job. Apparently, my passion for bench painting was overshadowed by the program's need for lifeguards. I was assigned to the swimming pool at the neighborhood boys club--even though I didn't know how to swim.
At the beginning of each shift, I stood poolside in my street clothes and announced to the kids in the water that if any of them planned to drown, they'd be better off waiting till my shift ended. If need be, I could throw in a Styrofoam lifesaver but I wouldn't be getting in the water no matter what the emergency."
Page 104:
"My co-workers were planning a huge after-hours Thanksgiving dinner to be held right there in th e restaurant. My presence was expected.
'C'mon dude, you don't have any family in New Hampshire,' Danny said. 'Ya gotta come.'
But I didn't gotta and I didn't go.
If indeed I was a member of this restaurant family, then I played the same role in it that I did in my own. I was the quiet and disappointing son who gladly stuck around for the free eats but who didn't stick around any longer than he had to."
Page 122:
"Restaurant managers sought enthusiastic deperation in their applicant, a 'please hire me' expression on their faces. In my case, whenever my application was reviewed, I usually slouched in a chair and yawned and scratched. Not even the creative list of referenceson my application--a circus midget, a retired pederast, a future astronaut and even the southern Indiana judo champion--caught their attention."
Page 174:
"Lying atomp a refrigerator was a grease filter--a screen that usually sat in the hood above the stove to catch grease, I had picked it up and started carrying it to the sink when a moving brown mosaic came to life on the screen. I'd interrupted a cochroach feast in progress and immediately dropped the screen. It hit the floor with a thud. Dozens of cockroaches bounced off the screen and landed across the kitchen floor. In shock, I looked at them. Far a second, they looked back at me. Then they started to scatter. Without thinking, I grabbed a spatula, swung wildly and flattened cockroaches left and right. With every blow, I was betraying my neutrality in the vermin wars. But because the pests kept running, I kept chasing. Until Suzy grabbed my arm.
Through clenched teeth, she said, 'Non in front of the customers!'
On the other sde fo the counter, several diners stared in disbelief.
...Afterwards, when my bloodlust dissipated, I granted immunity to the survivors and resumed my neutral stance."
Page 221:
" I failed to understand what was so enviable about having a position [Management] that a pack of phonies sucked up to. Dishwashing suited me because nice people were nice to me and assholes were assholes to me, yet no one ever sucked up to me. Usually, just as I liked it, I was ignored."
Page 288:
"'You seem to have a real bond--a deep connection -- with dishwashing,' she said. 'is it spiritual for you?'
'No, ' I said. 'Just something I do.'
'But don't you find washing dishes to be zen?'
'Not really,' I said. 'Seems like if it were zen, it wouldn't hurt my back and arms so much.'"
Page 330:
' As a doctor stood over me and tweeazed the gravel out of my head and sewed up the gash, I lay there in a daze. Wht the lamp shining in my face, I admired his work. It must be nice to be skilled, I thought. If someone had come to me with a nasty head wound and asked me to help him, I'd be confounded. If he'd bloodied his dishes in the process, then I could wash those. Otherwise, he'd be shit out of luck.
...
Maybe it was the concussion, maybe it was the Percocet, but I couldn't stop thinking about how these people were actually making a difference in the world. Meanwhile, what was I doing with my life?"
Page 335:
I didn't know what answer he wanted to hear. Would my owning up to dishwashing journalism scare him off or would it win him over? The odds seemed fifty-fifty.
'Yeah,' I answered coutiously. 'Yeah, I am.'
'Great!' he said. ' We'll get you all set up!'
Wow, I thought. Who knew that being honest when applying for a job could actually be beneficial?"
The whole book is filled with these pearls of wisdom. I wish I had read this while younger. It could have helped.