No, my second job was not as an exotic dancer. I was only 16!! I worked for an espresso stand. I was introduced to this place by my friend, Jen, who insisted that I try this out with her. I met the owner and was a little apprehensive. He was maybe in his sixties, heavy set, had white-thin-receting hair that was all slicked back, wore a brown leather jacket, and drove a very flashy Cadillac. I figured once I met him, I was bound to take the job or he'd break my knees or I'd wake up with a horse's head in my bed. The espresso stand was actually only 3/4 of a lil' building. The open end backed up to the entry to an old run-down pub right by Boeing, leaving a space of about 4 feet between open air and the safety of freaky shelter. Basically, not an enclosed establishment. I remember Jen walking me to the back of the building and telling me not to freak out when she showed me some post Satan worshiping ceremony spot with the leftovers of a goat's head. Awwwwwesome. But I took the job anyway. It was fun and it was a pretty decent money maker for me. Since it was by Boeing, we'd get a very early morning rush and then the going-home-for-the-day rush. Pretty decent tips, too.
Well, when it started to get cold, the "manager" (who was the mob boss's moron-son-in-law) put in a propane heater. There was a big tank and the heater sat on top, which we would have to light. One day the manager refilled the tank and attached the heating component...but not very tight. I was the opener and it was November and freakin' cold outside. I turned on the propane and lit the heater. Instantly, a giant blaze shot straight up to the ceiling. I grabbed the fire extinguisher, pulled the pin, and took aim. The powder sprayed out, extinguishing the fire, and covering the entire 3/4 shelter with a fine yellow dust. It was an awful mess that took me HOURS to clean up and all my strength to not tell the manager to suck it.
Then the propane tank got low and then finally empty when the temperatures dropped to 19 degrees. I had to essentially work outside fully exposed to mother nature and her elements. We'd been asking for the tank to be refilled for days into weeks. We'd always dress with the understanding that we'd have heat and therefore wouldn't dress for such low temps. My last day of work consisted of me showing up wearing a light coat and mittens with the hopes that I'd be somewhat comfortable. However, you can't make a latte in mittens. I'd been shivering and making people's drinks, one after another until I noticed that my hands were a light shade of violet and my wrists were beginning to turn the same color. I couldn't feel anything. I'd been calling my boss and the manager over and over, but no answer. It was dangerously and literally COLD outside. Even going into the abandoned pub made no difference. Finally, my mom came to my work and told me I was done. I locked up and got in her car to heat up and we went home. Needless to say, my boss was pissed and told everyone he fired me. Um, I think that was a big "I quit!" due to harsh working conditions. He never did come to break my knees.
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