Page 5 of September Lessons
For some reason, Leigh-Ann had a feeling that wasn’t Carrie’s concern.
Chapter 3
CARRIE
“Damn, sure didn’t take you long to figure it out, huh?” The manager of Paradise Pizza, an uninspiring middle-aged man with the more uninspiring name of John, said with a scratch of his hairnet. “You sure you’ve never made pizza before?”
Carrie finished doling out pepperonis to two large pizzas about to go into the oven. After a half-hour long training session abouthow to touch pepperoni,Carrie wowed her new boss by,somehow,sprinkling toppings in a record-breaking thirty seconds. Like it was hard or something.
“I worked in a factory the moment I turned eighteen,” she drolly said. “This is more of the same.” Everyone had their roles, although most were trained to fill-in on other roles if ever necessary. When efficiency was on the line, a girl figured out how to get things done. Especially with bosses like John – or Tony, or Jim, or Bobby-Ray – breathing down her neck.Jim really breathed down my neck. Too much, if you ask me.“You ever work in a factory, John?”
The man was simple enough that he didn’t take offense to that accusatory statement. “Nah. Don’t think I have, anyway. Think I’d remember that.”
Carrie snorted. “There’s not much to it. You do what they tell you as efficiently as possible.” She stepped aside as one of her coworkers picked up the pizzas and slid them into the oven. “This job is cakewalk compared to a factory, I tell you what. I can see outside!” She jerked her thumb to the big window overlooking the parking lot. They were far enough away from Main Street and its sidewalks to avoid most of the lookie-loos who peered inside to watch the pies being made, but every once in a while, a child pressed its face against the glass and grinned. Sure beat the unyielding views of fluorescent lights and heavy machinery.Oh, and don’t forget all the workers in their hairnets and blue uniforms.Carrie kinda missed the uniforms. They were snug, but comfortable.
And itchy. She didn’t miss that part.
“Good going. You’ll be out of probation soon enough.” John walked away.
Probation. Ugh. There was a word that made Carrie cringe.
“You’re doing way better than I did when I started here.” Carrie’s only other coworker on duty, a young-ish woman named Skylar, locked the pizza oven and rinsed off her hands in the corner sink. “Took me two months to put the pepperonis on right, let alone in the time they wanted. Can you believe it? I was responsible for two orders missing the thirty-minute cutoff. Surprised I didn’t get fired, since places like this don’t hurt for potential employees.”
Was that a dig at Carrie, who only got this job because her uncle put in a good word with the owner? Granted, based on the schedule in the staff room, there weren’t a lot of employees working at Paradise Pizza, and almost all of them – save the manager – were part time. Skylar was at the maximum amount of hours before she was considered full time and eligible for benefits.Saw it all the time at the factory. These buttheads never want to pay more than they gotta, so we take our minimum wage and work three jobs to pay for benefits out of our own pockets.Carrie thought it hilarious she was back in a personal finance class at school. She could practically teach it herself.
At least minimum wage was way higher in Oregon than it was in Alabama. The only major expense Carrie had was her car, and right now it was only putting her around a small town, its biggest excursion going back and forth between Clark High out in the middle of nowhere. It was ten miles to Roundabout from there. An easy fifteen-minute drive that put some of her commutes back in Alabama to shame.
So, working part-time, she’d save a little money. What she did with it after she graduated? No idea yet. Maybe she’d drive back home. Maybe she’d go to community college somewhere. University wasn’t on the table. Carrie didn’t know what she wanted to do, since until now, her biggest goal was to simply survive in peace.
And maybe have a girlfriend.
“Like I said to him,” Carrie muttered. “You work in a factory, and you figure things out pretty quickly.” She didn’t have to be told to change her net and wash her hands after she accidentally scratched her head in the middle of rolling out dough. With a groan, Carrie dropped what she was doing and headed to the wash station.
Skylar probably took a while to learn things because she was too busy spacing off every time there wasn’t something to do. She did that now, while Carrie washed her hands and contemplated that rolled out dough for the next pizza to inevitably be called in. It was Friday evening, after all. Didn’t take rocket science to know that the weekend was the boom times for the only pizza place in town. Carrie’s first shift had started at four, a full forty-five minutes after school got out. She was probably looking at phone calls from most of her new classmates putting in orders and then complaining that Paradise Pizza didn’t make this style of pie or offered those giant cookies like the corporate places.
Meh.
John manned the phones while Skylar said hello to whomever came inside. A few of the lunch time slices were still available, but most people wanted to buy a whole pizza to go. Suited Carrie fine to stay in the back and man the ovens as the orders came through the pipeline.Like being in the factory.She may have more roles to perform, but once she got into a groove, work was easy enough. John and Skylar remained flummoxed that a teenager put in as much effort as Carrie did, but she was there to work, wasn’t she? Besides, she didn’t get this job based on her own merit. She may as well prove her place on the small “team.”
Sunset brought the first lull in orders. Skylar came into the back to help with prep. Carrie washed her hands for the seventh time that evening.Anytime now I’ll remember to stop touching my stupid head.She couldn’t help it if the dry, Oregonian air made her scalp itch. Dandruff sucked, all right?
“Hey, Carrie!” John poked his head out from the office. “Since you’re such a quick study, how about I show you how to use the POS system?”
In case they worried she really wasn’t a teenager, Carrie snorted at the mention of “POS.” Sure, she knew what it meant. In a variety of ways…
Skylar took over the kitchen while John trained Carrie on the register. Within two orders, Carrie knew her way around the apps, and within three orders, she was trainingJohnon a computer.
“You kids really are something else,” he said, scratching his head. Carrie had half a mind to tell him to wash his hands. “I thought Skylar would be young enough to figure this thing out for me, but it looks like you’re the computer whizz around here! Go figure!”
“What can I say? My generation grew up on smartphones. This isn’t much different from an Android OS.” Click that big, colorful button. Follow the instructions. Stare at pictures. Very little reading required. How intuitive. “Let me guess, though. You’re an Apple guy?”
John looked as if he had no idea what she was talking about. “I got a Nokia. Is that Apple or Android?”
“You’re on your own, happy planet, John.”
“You keep talking with an accent like that, honey,” he said with a genial grin, “you’ll be getting all the tips around here! You hear that Skylar?” His voice echoed into the kitchen. “You need to pick up a real accent to get tips!”
“Sure, John.”
