Breaking & Entering
The summer following my sophomore year at
Occidental I needed to make some money to help my parents cover my tuition. I was hired as a dishwasher by J's
Restaurant in Glendale , California
J's Restaurant was located on the corner
of North Glendale Avenue Monterey Road Ventura Colorado
Boulevard
In 1964, California Federal Savings put
up a building on Eagle Rock
Boulevard Northeast Los Angeles
and plays a key part in this story). The California Federal Savings
building later became a CitiBank property but went up for sale in November of 2014
asking $8.2 million.
I started at J's on a Thursday night
which was less hectic than the week end nights and gave me a chance to get my
bearings. From 6 to 9:30 pm I mostly washed, dried and replenished the
supply of dishes and utensils. Around 9:30 the restaurant stopped serving
and by 10:00 the assistant manager, servers and cook were gone and I had the
place to myself.
I was being paid for eight hours
regardless of how long it took. If I finished early I could leave and still
receive eight hours pay. However, if I went over eight hours there was no
additional pay. By 2:00 am I was expected to bus all remaining dishes
from the restaurant and counter areas and finish washing and stacking; clean
and replace the various components of the coffee making equipment; vacuum the
entire restaurant; clean all tables, seats, counters and shelves in the
restaurant, kitchen and walk in cooler; clean the restrooms; take the wooden
floor platforms from the kitchen and walk in cooler to the parking lot, hose
them off and but before replacing them, sweep and mop the floors in the
kitchen, walk in cooler and restrooms; and remove all trash to the dumpsters in
the parking lot.
There was an additional chore that the
assistant manager was careful to demonstrate for me. In the kitchen above
the griddles and stoves were a series of thick metal mesh screens that
collected grease. They were to be removed, de-greased, washed, rinsed and
then put back. When the screens were replaced they would still be wet and
it was necessary to switch on a heating element to sterilize the screens and
evaporate all moisture to prevent rust. The heating element was to run a
minimum of one minute to insure sterilization but no more than 2 minutes to
prevent the restaurant from burning to the ground.
That first night was rough and when I
finished I drove east on Colorado Eagle Rock Boulevard
I took this on as a challenge and began
analyzing ways to shorten and combine tasks to reduce the time needed to finish
my shift. I also began to accelerate the pace at which I worked.
Gradually I was able to bring the total time down to eight hours. I would
finish in a rush each night, jump in my car and race to the California Federal
Savings tower to check the digital clock to see if it was a new personal record.
I became obsessed with reducing the time to a new low.
The methods I employed to save time had
other benefits. I began clearing dishes from tables as soon as customers
were finished. This meant there was no huge backlog of dirty dishes
waiting for me when we stopped serving. It also reduced the time that
customers had to wait for a clean table. The customers liked not having to
wait. The time for a meal was reduced and servers were able to wait on
more customers. The servers started getting better tips and they cut me
in for a share. The servers also didn't want the coffee equipment and
some other chores to interfere with my clearing tables so they started doing
those things for me.
I was working at a brutal pace and
created a couple of perks to make things more bearable. Twice a night I
would dash into the cooler and shut the door. I told everyone I needed to
cool down. Once inside I would grab a foot long skewer I kept there and
thrust it into a bucket of shrimp; then remove the skewer loaded with shrimp
and plunge it into a bucket filled with cocktail sauce. Finally, I would
place the skewer above my mouth like a sword swallower and push the delicious
dripping goodies into my mouth. I then replaced the skewer and returned
to my chores munching away for the next few minutes.
The other treat I looked forward to every
night took place after everyone else had gone home. I would lie face up
on a counter top under the drink dispenser with my open mouth directly below
the root beer spigot. I was usually fairly dehydrated at this point in
the evening and would put quite a dent in the root beer supply.
After my third week on the job, I had
lowered the digital display time to 12:37. I had cut four hours and ten
minutes off of the first night I worked.
On a Sunday night at the end of my fourth
week I was in the last stage of wrapping things up before I drove home.
The grease screens were being sterilized by the heating elements while I was
taking trash from the rest rooms to the dumpsters in the parking lot – an
example of combining tasks to save time. Standing by the dumpsters, I
heard the back door being blown shut by the wind. This being the door I
used to enter and exit the restaurant since the front door is locked by the
assistant manager when everyone leaves at 10:00 pm. This also being the
door that locks automatically when shut, making it unnecessary for the assistant manager to
provide me with my own key.
I went to check on the back door to see
if by chance it somehow was not locked.
It was locked. I could hear the
heating elements humming away. I ran to check on the front door but it
was also locked. I had never been given a phone number to use in case of
an emergency. I could still hear the humming from inside the
kitchen. I returned to the back door. I had seen it done countless
times in films and on Dragnet.
One simply has to lift their knee and jam their foot forward as hard and fast
as possible positioning the bottom of the shoe close to the doorknob, and
voila!
I didn't really see where I had any other
option so I gave it a shot and discovered that it is just as easy as it looks
on television to kick in a door. In fact, because I was in the pumped up
mode that is typical at the end of my shift, the door not only opened but was blown
completely off its hinges ending up on the floor a full twelve feet into the
kitchen. I went into the kitchen and switched off the heating elements,
turned off the lights and did my best to replace the door. There were
several small shattered pieces of wood that I used as shims to hold the door in
place inside the jamb. I drove home a little flustered and went to
bed. I don't remember looking at the digital clock.
The next morning I got a phone call from
the assistant manager. He asked excitedly, "Were you here when
they broke in?"
I hesitated but then said,
"Yeah". I just didn't want to tell him that I kicked in the
door. His question sounded as there might be a way around this.
Now he was really excited, "You were
here! What the hell happened? Are you okay?"
I said, "I was at the sink and I
heard a big crash and it scared the shit out of me and I yelled. I saw
the door laying on the floor and I heard somebody running away. I waited
a while and put the door back and I just went home cause you never gave me a
phone number to call."
A little calmer now, he said, "Did
you see 'em?"
I said, "No, I just heard 'em
running."
Then he told me, "Well the
detectives are here now taking fingerprints. Get some sleep and do you
think you can come over here later today so we can talk?"
I said, "Sure."
When I met with the assistant manager
that afternoon he told me that he was really pleased with my work and he didn't
want me to quit because of what had happened. Also, he was going to give
me a raise of 25 cents an hour starting the next week.