Pretzels, Relays, and Fist Fights...

No matter how you were raised, just about everyone in this country had that first job in high school. You were right around the age of 16, and were forced to work by your parents for reasons you didn't understand at the time. Well, they make us work at that age in an effort to show us how terrible our lives could be if we don't focus on our schoolwork. Your parents didn't need you to bring home an extra $5.15 an hour, believe me. This first job is designed to scare the ever-living crap out of you. And for most of us, it works.

But there is a silver lining within the concept of the first job. You don't have to care about this job in the least, and better yet, you know it. The first job is basically a training course on how to slack off at everything else you do in your life. Remember back to that first job. I'm sure you had a terrible boss that you hated, coworkers that drove you nuts, and the most disconcerting attitude you've had since. At first you probably gave all the effort in the world, because it was your first job and you didn't know any better. Then you noticed that all the other delivery drivers were showing up 45 minutes late every day. You noticed the other guys at the landscape company were smoking pot while riding their mowers around aimlessly. You noticed everyone else working at the mall just kind of stood around and collected their minimum wage.

That's when you began to get smart. Screw the idea of earning that buck, lets see if I can cash in and do nothing at the same time. I slack off in school, slack off on my chores, and rarely ever do what my parents say. Why should my first job be any different? And it wasn't...

My first job was at a pretzel store in the mall across from my house. After I got the job, I somehow convinced our bonehead manager that it would be a good idea to hire my two best friends to work there as well. Our job was simple. Roll, bake, and sell pretzels to overweight housewives that spend most of the day shopping for things they don't need. Luckily for us, our manager had some trust issues. And by that I mean he trusted everyone, which is not a quality you want in your management. There were evenings when he would leave the three of us alone in the store, and go do whatever it is 35 year old pretzel store managers do for four hours on a Tuesday night. It was like having the keys to your dads Mercedes.

One night I made a pretzel the size of a small horse and hung it from the ceiling, in clear site of everyone. Then we drew up a sign that said 'If you can eat this whole pretzel, it's on the house!'. Sure enough, some punk kid thought he'd give it a whirl and got through about a quarter of the meal until he was dry heaving into a box of Cinnabon's. Not his finest hour. Especially after I told him that he owed the store ten dollars for the pretzel, since he obviously didn't finish it. That ten bucks never quite made it from my pocket to the cash register.

Another evening we challenged Mrs. Fields Cookies, the store across the hall from us, to a relay race around the mall. There were three racers to a team, and we drafted a route that covered every square inch of those hallways. Unfortunately, both of us forgot to close our store during the race and a mall security guard caught two kids trying to steal pretzels. Somehow this was our fault. Also, during the second heat of the race, one of the Mrs. Fields employees slammed into an eight year old boy while turning a corner, and the kid had to go to the hospital. He ended up being fine, but our fun had ended for the day.

Worst of all though, was the fighting. Whenever there was a tussle at school between two people, the fight always took place in the back of our pretzel shop. Kids from all over school would purchase tickets from us to come into the back of the store and watch what was basically a death cage match. This is what the UFC wishes it could be. Until it all came crashing down during the big Justin vs. Kevin fight. The one that got me and my two compadres fired from our first job, and taught me many valuable life lessons. But that story, will have to wait until tomorrow...