It was the first time I had to fill out an application for a full-time job. It was at Coppola’s Deli in Carytown. I was hired right away as a short-order cook, with zero experience. It wasn’t long before I got good at it. A reuben I made was named 1989’s Best Sandwich by the Richmond Times-Dispatch. After seven months, I decided to move on–to Stuffy’s, a sub shop on Harrison Street.

When that didn’t work out, I applied at Third Street Diner. When the woman saw that I worked at Coppola’s, she hired me right away. Being unfamiliar with the menu, I didn’t do well on the grill. They put me in the back, doing sundry tasks–I wasn’t very good at any of it. Third Street Diner was open 24 hours. Around one in the morning, they had me take the big, heavy rubber mats on the floor behind the counter to the alley outside, and spray them with a hose.

Shift change was always a relief. I would sit in a booth with kitchen staff and waitresses, drinking alcoholic beverages. One time, I was chastised for telling an off-color joke. This is when I was an Atheist, a vocal Atheist. It was a bit of a discussion with one of the Protestants in the kitchen. When the topic of soulmates–which everybody knows is a big pile of pony dung–came up, I said, pathetically, “I know her name.” I wasn’t terribly respected with the Third Street Diner crowd, as an employee. One time, I worked a double shift. It really wasn’t so bad. I had a Bloody Mary and went home. For some reason, I kept some CDs there: John Coltrane, Elvis Costello, and a Frank Zappa album that had some swears. They also had a jukebox featuring local artists.

My employment only lasted a couple of weeks. I found a job making and maintaining tennis courts. I worked with Ben Reynolds and Todd Brady–the two worst, most disgusting, abusive bastards I have ever known. If you see them, please spit in their faces. Anyway, the job paid $6 an hour–that was a lot of money for me back then.

My 21st birthday was also the first day at a new job–painting. A couple of guys from the crew took me out drinking. I got smashed at some bar and didn’t understand the concept of leaving a generous tip. It was after all the other bars were closed, so I went to Third Street Diner. (In no way do I condone driving drunk. I never got in any collisions or pulled over, but there were far too many close calls…okay, I hit a parked car once.) It was a good place to get some good eats, at any hour of the day.

The shift manager remembered me, and when I told him I’d just turned 21, I added that all the time I was drinking while working there, I was underage. He seemed a bit miffed, but then he smiled and said, “Just don’t let it happen again.”