4:28 p.m. | 2002-09-08 My First Job. My first job was as a dishwasher at a local, swanky restaurant. I was 15. The headwaitress was a former madam of a local bordello and was 150 years old, at least. She had a penchant for mooning the cook when she got mad at him. A sight I witnessed numerous times, albeit, I always tried to avoid being present for such displays. It was her way of saying �So there!� before stomping back out to the dining room. It always followed some angry diatribe about how lazy, stupid and incompetent the cook was. She also yelled at the rest of us but stopped short of actually mooning us. And, I suppose that if you�re used to your employees bedding the locals, we did appear incompetent as we were busy cooking, serving and cleaning rather than having torrid sex with the patrons in the back room. The cook was a guy in his 30s who was always trying to pick up on me and who always tipped me with homegrown weed. (I didn�t smoke the stuff, so I gave it to those who did. They really appreciated it. Apparently, it was some good stuff.) He also used to whip me in the rear with a towel, which I�ve never found as amusing as fraternity boys do. Notwithstanding the fact he was married, he was always saying he was going to take me out for a night of fun or whatever. It made me nervous and uncomfortable. So, one day, I changed tactics. Instead of blushing, stammering and backing quickly out of the room, I said: �Sure, how about Friday night?� Then he started blushing, stammering and backing away. It was never a problem after that and I learned my first lesson in how to deal with unwanted workplace flirtation (which is now known as sexual harassment, as is mooning your colleagues). The owners (husband and wife) were kind of odd people who liked to keep costs down. When I started, the wife showed me how to use the meat slicing machine and then told me that if I ever cut myself to let her know and she would sew up the cut herself. She then proceeded to take me to the storage room to show me the various needles and thread she had in the first-aid kit. I did once cut myself on the slicer but I didn�t tell her. It wasn�t that deep and the cook and I got it to stop bleeding after a while. At the end of the summer, I turned in my letter of resignation. Considering that start, I�d have to say I�ve come a long way. your thoughts? seed flower