My dad had three rules for me, which he imparted on my fifteenth birthday. No Motorcycles. No LSD. And something else, which I must have already done, because I didn’t even clock that one going in. Right out the other ear. He told me about his various skids, mishaps, and near death experiences on motorcycles, but he did not fill me in on why/what happened on any mind trip he might have taken. So I did what any teenager would do. I found a boy who had a motorcycle and possible access to Acid. Lesson: I will not tell my kids what they absolutely should never do. It will be ever so more enticing. Then again, they might be a lot smarter than I was.
Later in life, I made three rules for myself. There would be three jobs I needed to have, so I could learn how the world worked. I’d be a bartender, a taxi driver, and a…something else, which I must have already done because it didn’t stick at all. See a pattern here? Apparently, my brain cannot hold more than two ideas at one time. This explains a lot, actually. Anyway. The bartending was a blast. I worked at a blue-collar, close to the factory type of place. At any given time, I could be mixing highballs, flipping cheeseburgers, and frying up some cheese curds, asking the fisherman to hang their catch outside the bar, please. (Yes, this was in Wisconsin). I only had to call the police once, on a guy who had a gun in the bar. I’d been watching two big guys speak in low voices in a back booth until one went to the bathroom. The other came up and said his buddy had a gun, and that he was pretty scared. I told him to leave and get far away, that I would stall him as long as I could. Where did I get the cohones to do such a thing? I was only 20, not even of legal drinking age. But I needed a job and the bartending license was a quick test – but they did not prepare me for this situation. The man left and Mr. Grumpy-leather pants came out looking for him. I poured him a tap beer – on the house. Sure enough, he sat there and drank it. Who can resist a free beer? You can always kill someone after, right? I told him his buddy had left, and that I didn’t know what their disagreement was about, but that he should think twice before doing anything he’d regret. I must have heard that shit from a movie. Seriously. All twenty years of me, washing out the bar mat, acting calm and collected. He thanked me for the beer and left, at which point I called the police. That was the point I started shaking. And there you have it, an education of a sort. I watched families come together, heard of their deaths. I became privy to knowledge no one asks for. I knew all their stories, their heartbreaks, their favorite drinks. Of the many jobs I’ve had, this one taught me the most – I can read people pretty well. Although I had to buy a separate hamper for my work clothes, which smelled of booze, cigarettes, and a deep fryer. It’s a wonder I ever got a date.
Taxi driver? That was…interesting. I had visions of myself as “Elaine” from TAXI. I could do this! I’d applied for a job and when I walked in, the interviewer- who was nothing like Danny DeVito- said “Huh. I thought you were a dude.” I’ve seen the name spelled Aron, Aaron, Arin, Erin. So, okay. He could be confused. I smiled.
“No, but I am a good driver.”
I was a good driver. I still am. What I didn’t know is that they had a series of hazing rituals for all of their new cabbies. Especially women cabbies. My first day out, the older guy showing me the rounds let me drive as he talked. The dispatcher came on.
“ABS pick up ASAP…” and he snatched the receiver immediately. This was back in the day when you still had a corded walky talkie- velcroed to the dashboard. (Did I mention this was the shitiest cab company in town? Maybe other cabs had better technology.)
“Newbie and me are on it,” he replied, and then directed me to a company way on the outskirts of town.
“You always want to take these calls,” he said. “They always tip well. And the passengers are super quiet.”
“Passengers?” I said. “How many?”
He laughed to himself, which turned into a cough, which he then choked back down as he lit up a cigarette.
ABS stood for American Breeders Service. Bovine genetics.
We’d be picking up a cooler of bull sperm.
“Oh yeah?” I said, acting all cool, like I was one of them already. The guy then proceeded to tell me that if you wrap a bull’s testicles with a thin rubber band, that eventually they just fall off, and Viola! Neutered!
The team went on to give me several weeks of hazing. The dispatcher “didn’t like women” (That’s how I heard it, correctly) and gave me the car that stalled – once in the middle of a busy road and turn, scaring the rider and me to death. I didn’t even charge her…I told her near death experiences were free, and how sorry I was. Then I drove back to the garage and had words with the mechanics.
“Yeah, they always give that one to the newbies. To see if you can hack it.”
“Hack it as in not DIE?” I said.
The guy shrugged. “I guess.”
I worked the afternoon or morning shifts, because the evening shifts were full of horror stories. People who ran off without paying. Drunks barfing in the back seat. Used condoms and near misses with beatings or sexual advances. I got beat out by other drivers who got there first, knowing al the shortcuts. I got yelled at by the older dudes who didn’t like me making u turns to get where I needed to go, even though I was doing it legally. I looked around and one day realized, I was the only woman. And I was no Elaine. I could dish it back, but I also needed to pay the rent, and the shitty cab company wasn’t going to cut it.
So…I applied for a job as a grease monkey. I liked cars, why not learn how to fix them? My brother already taught me a few things. They called me in for an interview.
“Huh,” The guy said. “I thought you were a guy.”
I did not take the job, though they offered it to me. Maybe I should have. Maybe that was my number three, to learn how to be totally self sufficient out in the big bad world. But these days I am older and wiser. I have a frikken Triple A card if I need help. And as for some new three rules? I’ll have to think of some new ones.
Although, just to be fair to myself, it should really only be two.