Guest Post: Nancy Franson, “Double Pepperoni”

My first inclination was to think of her boss as sadistic, brutal, and mean. Then I remembered the new taxes which had just kicked in, causing business owners statewide to turn off air conditioning and trim operating expenses wherever they could.

I also started thinking back to some of the summer jobs I had when I was the same age as that young lady.

“You should apply,” he said.

I knew next to nothing about filling out job applications and even less about making pizza. Still he was my dad and he told me to go downtown and apply for a job, so I did.

The pizza shop was run by a Greek family, some members of which spoke no English. It took me weeks to figure out who was married to whom and how each was related to the other. Every evening the owner sat in the dining area, chain smoking. He said little, but often stared at me with his dark, scary, Greek eyes as I was trying to figure out how to do my job.

I overheard her asking the owner how she was doing in training me, assuring him she was being especially mean to make sure I got it right. Several weeks later, she and her boyfriend were fired when the owner realized they were skimming money off delivery sales.

Although air-conditioned, the heat in the pizza shop was brutal. With my back turned toward industrial-sized pizza ovens, the air conditioning provided little relief. Usually only one oven was fired up at a time, unless there was a special event in town or on campus and we expected the demand to be heavy. The town’s local street fair was one such event, and it usually fell during the hottest week of the summer. I remember emptying one of the ovens, filled with searing hot pans full of pizza, just as a crazed, knife-wielding street fair patron chased a woman into the shop, past the ovens, through the kitchen, and out the back door.

I did all of these things for less than minimum wage, paid in cash.

Being Greek, the shops owners celebrated a number of Orthodox Christian holidays. I worked alone the weekend of Orthodox Easter as the family observed the holiday. Running low on pepperoni, I went down to the basement freezer to get more. As I opened the freezer door, I found the two blue eyes of a goat’s head staring directly back at me.

Gradually, I got to know the owner and his wife. I worked hard, and they became friendly. The wife and I usually split a pizza during my shifts. She joked with me about my high school boyfriend being one of their best customers during that summer, referring to him as “Mr. Pizza.”

My son has a job this summer, mowing a hayfield in the blazing heat. I think about him and I think about the young woman working without air conditioning at the dry cleaner’s. I smile and give thanks that I’m not a teenager anymore.

But every time I make a pizza, I count the pieces of pepperoni as I place them.