Meet the Cleavers

Kitchen StoriesI worked at one of the “Greek pizza” places that were common here in Ann Arbor for years. I was their first ever, female, dishwasher. Apparently this meant the fat, dickish, MARRIED, cook was supposed to pinch my ass whenever he passed me in the tiny hallway of a kitchen. Hey jerk, probably best not to send cleavers through the dish-line just before doing that. I did not get fired for grabbing one and threatening to take his damn hand off. What I did get fired for was when my then boyfriend, whom they had hired for “security” heard about this, got drunk and made a huge, slightly violent, scene with the weasely manager. They retained him and fired me. Ah the ’70’s.

Shared By: Stella, Ann Arbor, MI

Posted in On The Line - Kitchen Stories

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