A new adventure: Entering the workforce

What do you remember about your first job? How did you get it? In my case, it was because the boss went to my church.

Dotson Wright ran his own bakery. He had been one of my youth leaders and was a friend of our family. I went to work in Rollin’ Pin Bakery early in 1964, when I was a junior in high school. I worked after school and a long day each Saturday, then full-time that summer. “Full-time” meant six long days per week that began at 6:30 a.m.

I was called a “baker’s helper,” which meant doing anything that someone not trained as a baker could do. I started with cleaning: washing pots, pans and other tools of the trade in a large sink, and cleaning tables, counters, etc. Other tasks were added as needed, including helping prepare some of the products. Each new assignment was a new adventure and added variety. With donuts, I started out glazing them as Dotson deep fried them. Eventually, I did the frying and glazing. I also added “delivery-truck driver” to my resume.

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Driving the truck presented its own challenges. It was a panel truck on a chassis the size of that of a three-quarter-ton pickup. I had been driving for about a year at that point, my only experience being with cars. I was used to relying on a rearview mirror hanging above the windshield. The truck had only external mirrors.

Just getting the vehicle and its payload from point A to point B was taxing — physically, somewhat; mentally, very.

But sometimes there was an additional assignment. The boss’s elementary-school aged daughter often was at the bakery that summer. Many times, when I would head out for a delivery run, he’d quietly say to take her along.

First of all, this meant he was getting two jobs — worker and babysitter — for the price of one (at minimum wage). More significantly, it put a lot of responsibility on a 17-year-old. It was stressful to navigate this vehicle, much more so when there also was a child to transport safely. I took the responsibility seriously, trying to interact while also concentrating on driving the big machine. All for 85 cents an hour.

One day I was sent out with no word about taking the girl with me. Outside, I found her playing in the truck. I told her she needed to get out, because I needed to make some deliveries. She got out quietly and I left. Apparently, she had been told she could go, but no one told me this. Then as now, I would never drive off anywhere with someone’s child without their knowledge and permission. Nonetheless, I was the bad guy. Her parents laughed off the whole situation, including her anger, all directed at me. I have no idea how long she held a grudge.
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During the school year, I worked 2-3 hours on weekdays, depending on what needed to be done. I guess Dotson wrote down my hours sometime after I left. The hours shown on each week’s (hand-written) pay stub seemed reasonable. Dotson was always still working, alone, when I left. Sometimes we’d chat a couple of minutes while he decorated cakes. At some point, I wondered if this social time counted as work time.

So, I did an experiment. One week, I left promptly each day, saying no more than “Bye” or “See you tomorrow.” The next week, I lingered each day, following his lead in friendly conversation. My pay stub showed more time worked the second week. After completing the experiment, I never exploited what I’d learned from it.

During the summer, I had not only the very-full-time job at the bakery but also an active musical career (and what I could muster for a social life). I performed a good bit as a soloist and with a group that was cutting a record. I got a half-hour lunch break, which I spent in my car, parked behind the bakery. I ate my lunch in ten minutes and took a 20-minute nap.

It was hard work for very little money but not without a sense of fulfillment. Before the summer was over, though, I felt a need to stop. I was burned out. I quit two weeks before school started, to have a small summer break. We were usually short-staffed, which is a reason I got duties added. That nurtured my sense of loyalty, seeing how hard Dotson worked and appreciating his trust in me. So, when I gave notice, I hedged a bit and said he could call me in the future if he got in a jam and needed my help.

The first time he called was two weeks after I stopped working. Honestly, I was glad a family commitment kept me from being able to go in. Yet I was glad when he called again in December for help during the Christmas rush. One summer in college, having extra time beyond a full-time summer job and wanting extra money, I stopped by to see Dotson and said I could work a few hours if he needed me any time that summer. He replied, “See you tomorrow.”

During my original stint there, I was micromanaged. At first that was necessary, because I had no way of knowing what needed to be done or how it needed be done. I think as time went on, I wished for a little less supervision. But on all returns, when I came in to help out as needed, Dotson never once said anything at all about what he wanted me to do. I just went to work and did what needed to be done.