“My First Job” by Wilfred Padua

I was fired from Hot Dog on a Stick. I was sixteen, and I had lost over $230 from my register, an amount that I refer to as, “Enough to get fired from a job.”

What happened was, I was switching registers at the end of my shift. The usual process was I would count out $75 to leave in the register, and my co-worker would double-check the amount before I put my earnings in the vault. But on this night, I counted the money, and as she checked on my counting skills, a sudden rush of customers came. This was a routine problem, so I responded as usual – I put my money into a clear plastic bag, placed it under the register, and helped those in line.

I got a call the next day from my Manager, who told me that the money was missing. I told her the whole story – that it should be under the register. She said it’s gone, and I quickly realized that I was losing my first job.

That night, someone saw the clear plastic bag under the register and took it. Whenever I tell this story, people respond with, “So, did you take the money?” And I always say, “No. But I wish I did. Oh my God, I would’ve had $230!” In fact, I googled the question, “What can I do with $230?” and came up with the following answers.

1. Get bed sheets soft like lotion.
2. Buy some leather.
3. Sip sizzurp.
4. Ride a horse made of chocolate.

After the incident, and the phone call home, I had to wait two weeks while the event went under investigation. In the time, my friends told me I should quit before they fire me. I considered it, but decided to stay. I didn’t want to look like I stole the money, and left. And I wanted my co-workers to know that I was the type of person who would face the consequences for his mistakes. But I also wanted them to know that I got fucked, man, and that someone stole my money!

Two weeks later, my Manager gave me the actual notice. I was fired.

I was disappointed, but somewhat relieved. I never liked that job, and I wanted to quit not long after I got there. It wasn’t just the uniform – the short, royal blue shorts, the oversized, brightly colored t-shirt, and the tiny hat – it was that I couldn’t find a way to enjoy myself while I was there. I had no pride in that job.

I never found out who stole the money. But if I ever did, I’d probably thank them. They saved me months, maybe years of suffering through a job I hated. I stayed there for 8 months, and wanted to quit for all of them. But I thought: that’s what work is – going to a job you didn’t like because you had to, because there’s no better way out.