In tenth grade, I was hired at the local grocery store. All through high school, I worked after school at the Piggly Wiggly. I stocked shelves, worked in the vegetable department even helped in the bakery; I enjoyed working in the different departments and learned every job at the store.
When I started, my job was to help customers load their groceries into their vehicles; I often received tips, mostly from women and the men I just talked to, and I tried to help them find items when they looked lost.
I was a chubby teenager when I started; the job was an ongoing learning experience; the more I learned, the more I was asked to work. I stocked shelves, swept and mopped floors.
Working in the bakery was the job I enjoyed the most; I learned how to bake and was allowed to show my creative side when I decorated cakes. Some days I would work in every department, the store manager trusted me, she never knew where I was working, but she knew I was helping someone.
In the beginning, I filled in wherever I was needed; it took a few months before I was put on a firm schedule. I was usually asked to work late; I was making more money than I ever dreamed of. I even had money to buy my own pickup truck.
I graduated high school taller and leaner with a great work ethic; I was offered a full-time job and was happy to accept.
One day the manager asked me to make a delivery to a nursing home, a big customer. The normal delivery service did not show up, the groceries filled the bed of my truck.
I drove to the nursing home, unloaded the groceries, I met the chef and manager of the home; the chef, Annie, was friendly and asked if I wanted something to eat. I ended up eating a piece of pie with coffee.
It was my best day at the job; the chef, Annie, was friendly and very attractive. I told her I was a baker at the store, she said she could use help baking; I told her she could call me, and I would bake for her.
When I returned to the store, my manager asked me if I could continue to make daily deliveries, I was reliable, and it would save the store money; I told him I could do all the deliveries. From that day on, I delivered groceries for the Piggly Wiggly, every afternoon.
The next time I made a delivery to the nursing home, I talked to Annie. I asked her if I could bake in the morning, and she was happy to get the help. I had two jobs that paid, and the hours were compatible, life was good.
Eventually, I became close to Annie; she would put her arm around me and tell me how the residents were happy that her new baker life was good.
One day after I delivered to the nursing home, it was my last delivery; Annie asked me if I wanted to taste her home cooking. I was surprised and accepted. She gave me her address; I met her at after work.
This was a real surprise; I tasted her cooking at the nursing home, then she explained that the food was bland; the residents were older, did not like spices or anything too fancy, so the food I tasted at the nursing home was not her norm. I liked the food at the nursing home; it was what I was used to eating.
My social life was lacking, all through high school I worked, and between school and work, I didn't have time for a girlfriend. I talked to the female shoppers and developed many friendships at the store, but these were older women, customers, that I could not be too friendly.
