BITCH'N IN THE SCHOOL KITCHEN

August was the most dreaded month of my youth! In the small coastal town where I grew up we returned to school the beginning of the last week. But I can recall a few years we were forced back to class the middle of the month. As soon as the calendar turned, the nightmares began! I recall one in particular about a black school bus festooned with gargoyles and bars in the windows following me wherever I went.

Of course it wasn’t just the students & teachers returning, but many other workers, too!

The year was 1985 and I was 34 years old. Back in 1982, I lost my job and CETA connection thanks to our newly elected President Ronald Reagan. Had he not ended this program, I would have never gone without being employed. These were hard, but good jobs! I did office work. I’m not someone who tolerates heat well!

Afterward, finding any type of employment became a struggle and a disappointment. And my writing just wasn’t selling! I reached the point where I grabbed anything just to have an income. These jobs were miserable and low paying! -- No matter how desperate things may become in the future, I would rather be dead than go back to that in my old age!

I remember reading that after Reagan left office he was paid a million dollars for doing a commercial in Japan. -- What was that, 3 days of work at most? And I’m sure he had a stand-in to sit under all the hot lights. I wanted to punch myself for voting for him!!!

August 1985: I took a temporary job as a cafeteria lady in the same junior high I’d attended years earlier. I was replacing a woman who broke her leg, but I was told it could become a permanent position.

The other ladies seemed helpful and nice. When I told my friend Pat about my new job, she replied that she’d never take any position, or join any group that was ALL women due to the cattiness and backstabbing. I insisted these women were nothing like that!

I was issued a white uniform and told to provide my own hair-net. Back then, I had wavy, bleached blonde hair that was almost waist-length. An ordinary hair-net could not contain it. Fortunately, I found one with a thicker, looser weave that was white in color. It matched my uniform & shoes perfectly, and looked more like a 1940’s snood than a hair-net. – Hey, whatever I do, it’s with style!

As the kids shuffled in wearing shorts & flimsy sandals, I was speechless! Back when I attended, this type of attire was strictly verboten. In fact if our skirts were higher than 4 inches above the knee, we were sent home to change clothes! But everyone pushed the limits and eventually the school was forced to relent. Because we didn’t make our skirts, we bought them, and this is what the stores were all selling.

Naturally, the kitchen was sweltering hot, in seconds I was dripping sweat! I couldn’t wear make-up beyond lipstick; everything else melted right down my face. By the end of the day I was drenched! The first thing I did after returning home was to wash my sweat-soaked uniform and then shower & wash my hair. This was my daily routine.

My first day, the overseer walked me into the freezer where the ice-cream treats were stored. “You can have ONE of these per day, but only ONE!” she told me sternly. As a student there, I was limited to the purchase of ONE! But now I was an adult working for peanuts and they were stilling treating me this way!

Because the kids started arriving at 11:15, we ate our lunch at 10:30. At that hour I was still tasting my Cheerios, so I ate light. Then, I went back into the kitchen; “to get an early start” instead I made a beeline for the freezer! I made sure to eat TWO ice-cream treats! – But I always made certain to hide the 1st wrapper deep in a different garbage bin in case anyone got suspicious.

Three days into my employment, an additional woman was hired, a heavy-set lady named Caron. Since we were the new kids, we bonded immediately. She would join me every day for TWO ice-cream treats while the others still chatted in the cafeteria. 

After the kids had all returned to class came the immense clean-up. Filthy trays & pans were piled high waiting to be scrubbed & washed. “I’m bringing my rubber gloves from home!” I declared.

“We don’t use them, here,” I was told. I brought them anyway and everyone wanted to borrow them when I was not using.

Every day was nothing but heat, sweat, & drudgery! The work included lots of heavy lifting. And by that, I mean gigantic HOT pans straight from the oven filled with things like baked potatoes. And these pans all had sharp corners! I slashed my right hand the first day and my left the last!

The paycheck I received at the end of the week was downright depressing. Another week passed and I decided it wasn’t worth it to me. Fortunately, I quit before it was my turn to mop the floor.

The good-bys were all good-natured and I felt a tinge of sadness leaving this group behind. I planned to drop in around Christmas and gift them all with rubber gloves.

Several weeks after I left, Caron phoned to inform me she had fainted in the kitchen due to the heat and quit. I inquired about the other ladies there. “I defended you,” she stated.

“What? I wasn’t aware I did anything that needed defending!” I exclaimed.

“Well, eh, they said negative things about you. But I kept telling them I found you a sweet person and I enjoyed working with you.”

I didn’t want to believe what I was hearing. I’d rather this had not been revealed to me, but at the same time, I was glad. It saved me time and money! Needless to say, I never returned to visit bearing gifts!