Meat Room

by Ash Williams

When I was 17 I needed a job that paid money.  At the time, I was spending a lot of time at the local Coles supermarket because I was in love with one of the checkout girls (I bought some chewing gum from her register once and she looked at me) so I thought it made sense both financially and romantically to apply for a job at Coles. I walked into the managers office with my resume - which was basically a print out of my name and date of birth - and asked for job. The manager said "I've got nothing for you at the moment, but come back another time". For the following month, I went in every weekend, and then one day the manager said "actually there might be something, have you ever cleaned a meat room?". I'd literally never cleaned anything before, but I was eager for cash, so I said "I'm a great cleaner". The manager said "wonderful, the old cleaner didn't show up, so you start today". So that day, with no training whatsoever, I cleaned a meat room. I came close to losing my fingers several times but it was all worth it. After all, I was earning $17 per hour (before tax), and could now proudly walk into a Subway and order any footlong I wanted.

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