The One about the Pizza

I started babysitting when I was around 9 or 10. I can’t even imagine my son who is 12-years-old babysitting kids. I grew up with so many nieces and nephews that it just came easy for me. I guess I was mature enough to put kids to bed and extract peas they put into their noses. I was pretty inexpensive too so I am sure that is why I kept busy babysitting.

When I was finally old enough to drive I got a job at the local pizza restaurant. I did have connections there — my brother was the manager and my mom also worked there part-time. My connections really weren’t that great though. To get the job I had to dress up like Lady Guinevere for an anniversary event. Now you should be able to figure out the name of the pizza restaurant.

I spent a day outside in the front of the pizza place handing out balloons to little kids as I sweat like a pig in an ugly blue dress. I even made the cover of the town newspaper. Well, maybe it wasn’t the cover, but it seemed like an enormous picture of me at 16-years of age at my first acting gig. And the reward I got for doing this? Well, I think I got minimum wage for the day and then I got the chance to work at the pizza restaurant regularly. I actually enjoyed the job. After getting kicked, scratched and yelled at from babysitting (and those were the parents) I was ready for a “real” job.

Now I could share the lessons I learned from this “real” job but I have already done that in this post. A post, I might add, I wrote much better than this one. It was obvious I was writing more consistently when I wrote it.

This is another entry in the writing challenge.