Being promoted from Receiving Clerk to Dispatcher in the lettuce cooler meant that I moved from the dusty back lot to the truck-fumed loading dock area.
It's night. I'm in a little hut the size of a trunk of a Japanese economy car. The light isn't, there is softcore playing on the telly, and the heater is working full blast trying to make a difference.
A friend of mine is a legal secretary. Sounds like a pretty good gig, eh? Experience and education, and all in a discipline that you see ads for all the time.
Ever heard that time-honored phrase: "the only certainties in life are death and taxes"? It makes sense, on the surface, and might even elicit a chuckle (assuming you haven't heard it a million times already).
The world of fast food is no place for a person of any intelligence. It is a mind numbing, tedious and above all, thankless industry. It also feeds many people nearly every day.
This was the first position I officially held in the lettuce industry of the Salinas and Imperial Valleys, and industry that was and still is pretty foul.