Excerpt: Jobs

There was a time when you would pull in to a gas station, and a real human being came out and asked you how much gas you wanted, and would proceed to pump the gas for you. You might even get him to clean your windshield, check your oil, or, if you had pulled into a really high-class joint, inflate your tires to the level recommended in your owner's manual. He would then proceed to take your money, give you change, and possibly even send you off with a smile and a kind word. If you were really lucky.

Usually, in a small town like mine, said real human being was a clueless teenager who took the job because he had no work experience whatsoever, wasn't qualified to do much of anything else, and wasn't remotely prepared for what a crappy job it was.

So it almost goes without saying that pumping gas was my first job.