On Another Job.

When I first met you you mentioned about poor people getting jobs. You made it sound so easy.

(This is email that turned into a story. It was written to a friend who is a priest.)

The job of the poor is to test the rich.

You probably haven’t noticed the bathroom doors downstairs and how the metal portion that people kick hasn’t been cleaned or polished. And that reminds me of a story.

Years ago I was looking for a job in New Hampshire and afraid to go into the ritzy Hanover Inn. It was intimidating.

I procrastinated until one day really desperate for a job I put in an application. I was hired as a temp worker. God saved me from having to work at this dreaded place for years. And I knew differently.

Really this is just a part of the story. A few times I saved them from failing inspections. Because I had a nose for inspectors. And I thought the Catholic church should have an inspector general or a group that travels from church to church and inspects churches just like they do with schools.

One day I was polishing the brass on the back steps and my boss the general manager of the hotel happened to be coming up the back steps.

He asked what I was doing. I told him I was polishing the brass which he could evidently see.

He started to ask why. But before he could get it out I told him that one day an inspector was going to come in the back door as they often did and notice that the brass on the steps was polished and that the area was clean and smelled wonderful and therefore conclude that we had a clean hotel.

The manager smiled and nodded and told me to keep on going on.

In the same hotel we had a boss that would try to intimidate us he was a huge man bulky and wide like he just came off a fishing boat. And he would lean into us and cower over us and see how we reacted. I wasn’t aware of the “Yes chef,” “No chef ,” routine. That was how we are supposed to reply I didn’t know that.

When he worked the line during big events things always got worse. I remember asking the other employees what the mess was. The people knew what they were doing. He was my boss and told me not to whistle while I worked.

And then there was the time that they had me come in on the Fourth of July even though they knew the restaurant wouldn’t be busy for me that was a day killer because I…