Those that know me have heard me say that my first job was a dishwasher at an Italian Restaurant. I was twelve. I realize that it was a very young age, and the ethics and legality may be in question but I come from a long line of do what you gotta do people.
Back story, we were poor. At the time, we had my stepfather’s brother staying with us and he was a sous chef at the time. I walked by the restaurant every day to and from school for a couple years. I remember it always smelled so good. I think that is where my love for Italian food came from. My uncle came home one night and said he had a tough night because their dishwasher quit.
I remember being sick of being poor…I wasn’t looking for supplemental income, I was looking for income. When I came home from work the next day, I stopped in and told them I heard their dishwasher quit and asked if I could have the job. I swear the expression on their face I will always remember. It was the first time I ever had someone look at me like I was crazy. It would not be the last.
I made $3.35 an hour washing dished three nights a week. What I loved most was the table in the back that they put their mistakes. I would sneak some home to share with my family every chance I could.
It was hard work for me. I gave my parents most of the money from my checks. I would keep a small amount to buy a hot lunch at school and have some candy.
I have had a job pretty much ever since.
The restaurant was Luigi’s Italian Family Restaurant in Fremont. Yes, really! I would joke in years to come that Mario’s first job he worked for Luigi…
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