The people who make a difference in your life come in all types.

Some write on a
chalkboard. Some wear a sports uniform. Some wear a suit and tie. For me, that person
wore a tie with a Pizza Hut logo on it.

^For me, that person wore a Air Force Uniform

I started working at Pizza Hut in December 1989, when I was a freshman in high school.
Parents in my small western Colorado town encouraged teenagers to work in the service
industry after school and on weekends. It kept us out of trouble.

^I wish I had been smarter and gotten a job early on in high school

Having a job also kept me out of the house. I grew up mostly with my mother, and I
never knew my biological father. My younger sister, younger brother and I went through
a series of stepfathers. My relationship with those men was almost always fraught, and I
was always looking for reasons to be away from home.

^causing or affected by anxiety or stress.

The Pizza Hut was old, and in the back it had three giant sinks instead of a dishwasher.
One basin was for soapy water, one for rinsing and the other for sanitizing, using a tablet
that made me cough when I dropped it into the hot water. All new employees started by
washing dishes and busing tables. If they proved their mettle, they learned to make
pizzas, cut and serve them on wooden paddles and take orders.
^a person's ability to cope well with difficulties or to face a demanding situation in a
spirited and resilient way.
On my first night, the dishes piled up after the dinner rush: plates, silverware, cups and
oily black deep-dish pans, which came clean only with a lot of soap and scrubbing in
steaming-hot water. I couldn’t keep up, and stacks of dishes formed on all sides of me.
Every time I made a dent in the pile, the call came back for help clearing tables out front,
and I returned with brown tubs full of more dirty dishes.

^I hate when it feels like you're going to accomplish something but then it gets ruined.

At home, the chore I hated most was dishes. A few years earlier, my mother’s then
boyfriend instilled a loathing of that task by making me scrub the Teflon off a cookie
sheet, believing that it was grease, while he sat on the couch and smoked cigarettes. That
boyfriend was gone, but another with a different set of problems had taken his place.

^a chemical coating, polytetrafluoroethylene

My shift was supposed to end at 9 p.m., but when I asked to leave, the manager, Jeff,
shook his head. “Not until the work is done,” he said. “You leave a clean station.” I was
angry and thought about quitting, but I scrubbed, rinsed and sanitized until after 10 that
night.

^Staying an hour later than your supposed would suck

I stayed on dish duty for weeks. My heart sank every time I arrived at work and saw my
name written next to “dishes” on the position chart. I spent my shifts behind those steel
sinks, being splashed with greasy water. After work, my red-and-white-checked button-
up shirt and gray polyester pants smelled like onions, olives and oil. At home, I
sometimes found green peppers in my socks. I hated every minute I spent on dish duty,
and I wasn’t afraid to let everyone around me know it.

^finding peppers in my socks would disgust me in every way possible.

One slow midweek night, when I managed to catch up on dishes and clean out the sinks
early, I asked Jeff when I could do something different. “Do you know why you’re still
doing dishes?” he asked. “Because you keep complaining about it.” Nobody likes to work
with a complainer, he said. But, he promised, if I continued to leave a clean station and
not complain, next week he would put me on the “make table,” where pizzas were
assembled before being put into the oven.
^good example of “the squeaky wheel gets the grease”
A few days later, when I reported for my after-school shift, I saw my name penciled not
in the “dishes” box but in the “make table” box. I was ecstatic.

Jeff had a special way of running his restaurant. From a crop of teenagers, he assembled
a team of employees who cared about their work — and one another. Most of my best
friends from high school also worked at Pizza Hut, and some of my best memories were
made under that red roof.

^that's how I felt about Pinckney High even though I hate going to school.

Pizza Hut became not only my escape from home but also, in many ways, an alternate
home. In my real home, I felt unstable and out of control. At work, the path seemed
clear: Work hard and do things right, and you will succeed. This model had not seemed
possible before.

^Jobs should be an eye opener for teenagers in high school.

For one of the first times in my life, I felt empowered. By the time I was in 11th grade,
Jeff had promoted me to shift manager. By my senior year, I was an assistant manager,
responsible for much of the bookkeeping, inventory and scheduling. I was in charge
when Jeff was away.

^ “Assistant to the Regional Manager” -Jim Halpert

Our staff was like a second family. We had all-day staff parties that started with rafting
trips and ended with dinner and movies. Most of us played on a softball team. We went
camping together. We had water fights in the parking lot and played music on the
jukebox, turned up to full blast, after all the customers had left.

^the first party was a rafting trip and the second was a movie? Or the parties started
with a rafting trip and ended with a movie?

Jeff was the leader of this unlikely family. He was about 15 years older than me and had
recently gone through a divorce. I never considered it at the time, because he seemed to
be having as much fun as everyone else, but if I was using my job to create the family I
wish I’d had, it was possible that he was, too.

^dang that gives this a whole new perspective

Senior year arrived, and though I loved that job, I knew I would go to college the next
fall. I was an A student in class but probably about a C-minus in applying to schools. My
mom hadn’t gone to college, and I didn’t have a lot of logistical or financial support at
home. I had received a pile of brochures from colleges, but I didn’t know where to start
— and, at $40, every application fee cost me half a day’s pay.

^I’m very blessed with the wealth my family has.

A guidance counselor persuaded me to apply to Boston University, which seemed great,
primarily because of its distance from Colorado. The scholarship application had to be
in by the end of November — and I was definitely not going there without a big
scholarship. But maybe because of the fee or because of my sheer cluelessness, I kept
putting off the application.

^personally, I like Colorado more then Boston

I still had not mailed it the day before it was due. At work that day, I offhandedly
mentioned to Jeff that an application was due the next day but that I hadn’t mailed it.
He opened a drawer and took out an overnight envelope. He told me to stop what I was
doing, leave work and send the application immediately. I protested about the expense
of overnight postage, but he said he would cover it.

^that’s so heartwarming

I ended up getting into B.U., with a scholarship, but I still had never even visited Boston.
Though my mom worked hard to take care of my siblings and me, there just was no
room in the budget to send me on a college visit. So I figured I would just see the school
when I got there in August.

^that must've been so exciting

Jeff surprised me with an early graduation present: a trip to Boston. He paid for the
hotel, the car and the plane tickets. We toured campus and visited Fenway Park and did
some sightseeing around New England. We ate at a lot of Pizza Huts, and we judged
them against ours. The verdict: None of them seemed to be very much fun.

^I can't imagine being that close with my boss. That would be so much fun.

Before I headed to college, I told Jeff that I would come back to work over winter break.
While I was away, he was promoted to regional manager, and a different person was put
in charge of our store. I went back anyway, and though I did my best to enjoy it, the
magic was gone. The family had dispersed, and I felt free to shift my mind-set to college
and the future.

^that's a bit depressing but he knew it was bound to happen

I have kept in touch with Jeff over the years. We usually meet for lunch when I’m in
town. Sometimes we even have pizza.

^I don’t know how they're not sick of pizza yet.

Washing dishes for Jeff was grueling, greasy work. But then again, making a pizza, or
driving a truck, or baking a cake, or any of countless other jobs are not always enjoyable
in themselves, either. Out of all the lessons I learned from that guy in the Pizza Hut tie,
maybe the biggest is that any job can be the best job if you have the right boss.
^that’s not where I thought it was going but okay.