I had my first "official" job when I was 14 years old. I befriended a guy at school named Rich, who was in the next grade up. I have no idea how we came to be good friends because we couldn't have been more opposite of each other. I was focused on academics and video games, and he was into metal shop and auto racing, and guns. Nevertheless, we became friends, and he eventually moved in with us as my foster brother. 

Rich worked at an automotive repair shop called Kruse Automotive. The owner, Jim Kruse, used to work at Mort's Wayside Garage down the street on Lima Road and decided to venture out with a shop all his own. His primary business was the repair shop, but he also had four gas pumps installed out front branded as a Marathon gas station. 

Jim liked to sell regular unleaded gasoline for a penny or two below his cost. Obviously, he would lose money on gas, but this technique is known as a loss-leader. Grocery stores do the same thing when they offer a sale on a popular item to get you in the door to buy other stuff. Jim used low gas prices to get people to stop for a fill-up and ask about car service and maintenance. 

This strategy must have worked because the shop became very busy. Initially, there was no dedicated employee for the cash register. Whoever was working the desk for the repair shop (or the nearest mechanic) would hop over and handle any gas customers as needed. The gas business became so busy that Jim needed to hire a gas attendant, especially for evenings and weekends. 

Rich told me about the job opening, and I said it sounded like a cool part-time job. Kruse Automotive was about 20 minutes from my house, and I didn't have my driver's license yet. I told Rich he would be my main mode of transportation until I got my license, and he said that was fine. He didn't even ask for a cut of my pay.

I don't remember any formal type of interview. In fact, it seemed like it was a done deal as soon as I arrived. The office manager gave me the lay of the land. The cash register was not programmed. She told me to hit the No-Sale button, which triggered the register drawer to open to make the change. I was supposed to place any big bills like $50's and $100's under the coin tray. There was no training on how to spot counterfeit bills. When the drawer got too full, I had to take the excess bills out and put them in the cash box that was sitting in a drawer below the counter. This box also had extra ones, fives, and tens in case I ran out. The cash box was not locked and was not a traditional safe. It was just a cheap metal box where we stored the greasy bills. I was shocked that this was the extent of money tracking--there was none! 

The gas pump control was pretty easy. It showed the four pumps and the status of each. I could tell the grade of gasoline and how much they pumped. I could also program an amount for pre-paying customers even though the majority of customers pumped first. There was no way to pay at the pump. I also had the power to shut off the pumps individually or all at once if needed. 

The credit card machine was also straightforward. It had the slot to slide the card and a keypad to enter the card details. We also had the old-fashioned card imprinter under the counter if the card machine couldn't read the card. The card imprinter was low-tech. I had to write the transaction details on a two-ply receipt and then place the card and the receipt on the machine. I pulled a lever that would push the receipt against the card to create an imprint. I kept the original and gave the customer the copy. The last time I saw one of these machines was when I was traveling for work in California in 2015, and the cab driver had one in his trunk. He was clearly upset that I didn't have cash, but I was reacting with glee at the sight of an old friend.

When you walk into virtually any gas station today, it's a mini-mart with all kinds of items for sale. This was not the case with our gas station. When customers opened either of the glass doors to enter the lobby, they saw a sparse landscape. There were a few chairs against the right wall for customers waiting to pick up their vehicles. In the corner was a bubble gum machine. On the left, my station at the cash register. Directly ahead was the main repair counter that took up one-third of the space. There was a door next to the counter that led behind the counter to the office. Between the counter and door was a stand with a coffee machine. There was also a door to a public restroom. If you came out of the restroom and kept walking, you would be behind my counter and cash register where I was stationed. 

In 1991, the Federal Minimum Wage was $4.25. If you are shocked by that amount, remember everything was a lot cheaper back then. For example, gas was $0.89/gal. I was excited to get my first paycheck, which was actually a white envelope filled with cash. I remember the conversation with Rich.

BW: "I was expecting a paycheck."
Rich: "Yah, don't tell anyone that you're getting paid cash."
BW: "Why not?"
Rich: "Because you're getting paid under the table."
BW: "What table? What do you mean?"
Rich: "They are paying you cash, so they don't have to worry about the paperwork and taxes and child labor laws and all that. At least you are getting the full amount without any taxes."
BW: "Okay, cool."

They finally hired someone to work the cash register during the day. I don't remember his name, but he had a gruff voice, and he was the brother of Jim's wife. My work schedule was determined by the shop's needs and Rich's work schedule since he was my ride. I worked a couple of evenings during the week after school from 4 PM to 9 PM. I also worked most weekends, either the morning shift from 7 AM to 2 PM or the evening shift from 2 PM to 9 PM. This worked out great for me because I could get all my homework done when it was not busy.

Soon, Kruse Automotive added a couple of other part-time employees to man the gas pumps. One guy was named E.J., who was originally hired as a parts runner. If the shop didn't have a part in stock, it would order it from a local parts shop. We'd get deliveries from parts shops all the time, but sometimes they needed a part pronto, so the parts runner would go get it.

Oddly, no one seemed to care about the lack of money tracking. In fact, sometimes Jim would dip into the cash box and take a wad of bills and wink at me. I wanted some type of tracking and accountability in case money went missing. I could picture Gruff Voice saying, "It's probably that high school kid who took it and bought reefer." I programmed the cash register and created a balance sheet that would be completed at the start of each shift. At least this would enable us to track the status of the register and cash box for the hand-off between our shifts This tracking made it a little more difficult for Jim's cash-box withdrawals, but he always said, "Don't worry, I'll take care of the balance sheet." 

One day after only a week on the job, a customer parked his car right in front of the doors to the lobby. It was pouring steam out from under the hood. He came inside and shouted with a panic, "Get some water! I need water!" I didn't know what to do, and no one else was around, so I went into the shop looking for water. I was unfamiliar with the shop and didn't see anything. I then walked into the break room and saw a big jug of water on the table. I grabbed it and went out front to help the customer. I handed him the jug, and he poured the water into the radiator to help cool the engine. I was actually pretty proud of myself until I realized that the jug of water I grabbed was purified drinking water owned by one of the mechanics named Mark. He was none-too-pleased that I wasted his water. At lunchtime, Rich took me to the grocery store so that I could buy Mark more water. I replaced his one jug of water with two jugs for the trouble. Most of the other mechanics didn't get along with Mark because he was a snarky asshole, but he took a shine to me ever since that event. He even paid me to wash his truck using shop resources when it was slow.

I remember one summer, Gruff Voice went on vacation, and E.J. was also unavailable. They needed someone to man the cash register for the entire week and the weekend. I was out of school for the summer and had nothing else better to do. I worked from 6 AM to 9 PM Monday through Friday and 7 AM to 9 PM that Saturday and Sunday. I remember receiving quite the stuffed envelope for that stint of work. I'm sure that scenario broke all kinds of child labor laws. 

Perhaps it coincided with my 16th birthday, but I remember at some point no longer receiving white envelopes full of cash. I have a distinct memory of seeing my first paycheck and being shocked by how much was taken out for taxes. 

Eventually,  we added more things for purchase in the lobby. We still had free coffee, which one customer noticed and grumbled, "Shot of yer mud?" while gesturing at the coffee maker with his thermos. We added a rack for candy and snacks. We added a stand for quarts of motor oil. We even added cigarettes, though this was a controversial decision.

Jim was a runner, played basketball, and was very health-conscious. He did not smoke and despised smoking. Initially, he refused to sell cigarettes for this reason, much to the chagrin of employees who smoked. I think the argument finally wore Jim down that if he didn't sell cigarettes, customers would buy them somewhere else anyway. I showed up to work one day and there was a small rack mounted on the wall behind the register fully stocked with cigarette packs. If memory serves, I think we were selling them for maybe $2 or $2.25. I found myself in the strange circumstance of being old enough to sell cigarettes but not old enough to buy them. 

Gruff Voice kept a hard pack of Marlboro Reds in a drawer by the cash register. One Sunday I was bored and since nobody was around, I decided to light one up. I went into the shop and lit the cigarette and started to puff away. My lips started to tingle. I then made the mistake of inhaling the smoke and initiated a coughing fit that lasted several minutes. That was the first and last time I ever smoked a cigarette.

At some point, a shop dog named Doobie appeared. I did not understand the meaning of his name until years later. He was a Doberman mix, and I never found out where he came from, only that he lived at the shop. Doobie was a cool dog, and he kept me company, especially on Sundays when the shop was closed. When I turned 16 and got my license, I was driving myself to work in my 1984 Chevrolet Caprice Classic. Every Sunday morning, I stopped at McDonald's and ordered three sausage egg McMuffins and a large orange juice. Now, I didn't eat all three of them because Doobie helped me out. 

Doobie liked lying down on the rug placed right in front of the glass doors because there was always sunshine streaming through the windows during the day. Customers often opened the door and walked right in without noticing Doobie and ended up tripping over him. Doobie would be roused from his slumber, and the customer would rush to pet Doobie and say, "What's the matter, puppy?" 

On the evenings or weekends when I didn't work, E.J. or one of the other guys took the shift. I remember Jim, the owner, needed to work on some things, and he showed up at the shop one Saturday with his three kids. They were elementary- and junior-high-age and a handful. I got along with them, and I think we were playing catch or something outside since it was slow. While we were in the middle of playing, Jim called me over. I thought the fun was over and that I was in trouble. Instead, he told me to write a note for E.J. with several clean-up tasks to do. Then he said to head back out and keep the kids occupied. 

I went on vacation and left my car at Kruse Automotive to have some minor repairs completed. When I picked up the car, I noticed a few things were different. The driver's window seemed stiff and harder to roll up and down. My black fuzzy steering wheel cover was missing. Also, my ignition was different. Previously, my ignition was so worn that I could remove the key completely while the engine was running. This was a convenient bug (feature?) when I stopped to get the mail. I could leave the car running if someone else was in the car. I don't know whether anyone planned to tell me, but my car was broken into while it was parked in the lot. This was before they put up a fence and locked gate to secure customer vehicles. They replaced my driver's window and the ignition at no charge and the insurance company was none the wiser.

On a Monday at school, I told my friend Josh that I had a crazy story for him about how that weekend I almost got held up at the gas station. But we had to head off to class. I ran into Josh a couple of hours later in the hallway between classes, and he wanted to know what happened. I didn't have time to tell him. Later in the day, we ran into each other again, and I told him I still need to tell him the story of getting held up, but I had to see a teacher about something. He finally shouted angrily, "YOU are holding ME up!"

I believe it was a Saturday night, and no one was at the repair shop except me and Doobie. One of the mechanics, who was also named Jim, came to fill up his car. His girlfriend walked into the lobby to say hi while he was filling up the tank. She backed up and stood out of the way while another customer came into the lobby. This customer had not bought gas and seemed to be acting kind of weird. He was fidgeting and acting like he didn't know what he wanted. I noticed Jim's girlfriend was staring at me wide-eyed. This was not unusual because she often had weird facial expressions. I think the customer bought a candy bar or something small, and then he left. Jim's girlfriend walked back over.

GF: "Oh my god, you almost got robbed!"
BW: "What? What do you mean?"
GF: "That guy was going to rob you."
BW: "How do you know?"
GF: "When he reached into his back pocket to grab his wallet, I saw he had a gun in the waistband of his jeans!"
BW: "Yikes! I'm glad you guys were here!"

Jim (the not-owner) finally came in to pay for gas, and we told him about it. Based on how they were both dressed, I think they were headed out for a night on the town. She mentioned that maybe they should stick around for a while to make sure the would-be armed robber did not return. Jim wasn't too keen on the idea. I didn't understand it then, but I think he was probably looking for the shortest distance between two points if you get my drift.

On March 18, 1995 (my senior year), Michael Jordan sent the famous two-word fax "I'm back." One day later on Sunday, he suited up with #45 and played his first NBA game in 17 months after leaving professional basketball to pursue a career in baseball. I watched that Bulls vs. Pacers game from the break room at Kruse Automotive on a small TV perched on top of the refrigerator. The Pacers won the game and Jordan went 7 for 28. It didn't matter because the GOAT was back!

Rich had graduated the previous year and left Indiana to pursue a technical certification. He's currently traveling the world as a government contractor working on submarines. I had the chance to meet up with him in Phoenix a couple of years ago to catch up on old times. 

I worked at Kruse Automotive all the way up to my high school graduation. In fact, Jim Kruse and his family were at my graduation ceremony. We didn't have a formal termination of the working relationship, but this natural break seemed to signal the end. I knew that I would not return once I started at the University of Toledo in the fall, even for breaks. It would have felt like a step backward. 

I lost track of everyone I worked with at Kruse Automotive. I'll always be grateful for my first job. I learned how to interact with customers, how to handle money and the value of honest work.