(In which Manual Scan/Lemons Are Yellow vet Paul Kaufman revisits the day jobs of our misspent youth.)
You asked for it … There have been multiple requests for a post about the various jobs we held so that we could afford all the gasoline, musical equipment, hip apparel and rolled tacos that propelled the San Diego scene.
I’ll start the proceedings with two rather uncool jobs that I held; since both establishments are still in business, the names will removed to protect the guilty. The first was a small Italian eatery where I washed dishes. The work itself was OK, but there was a creepy and exploitative relationship between the owner and the crew.
Owner shows up late … So you clock in late … So you lose money. He was superficially pals with the cooks, but somehow they always owed him money — several possibilities going on that I didn’t want to know about, but it was clear who held all the cards. The worst aspect was the owner was always bragging to the cooks about which of the female waitstaff he was banging. And he would leave half-eaten plates of food mouldering in his office — every few weeks he’d send me in to collect them. A real gent!
By comparison, my experience with a large fast-food chain was surprisingly much more pleasant, given the bad rap such jobs usually get. They had very set standards for professionalism and cleanliness that were a foreign concept at the other place. The other workers were largely people with young families trying to get by — honest, hard-working folks — and the management had worked themselves up the ladder in the business. So I gave them points for providing that kind of opportunity.
OK, let ‘er rip. What did you do for $$$?
— Paul Kaufman
I spent the summer of 1984 in a shower cap, rubber gloves and a white lab coat, within the sweltering confines of Genentech’s manufacturing and distribution center on Torrey Pines Road, assembling institutional-grade pregnancy tests on a production line.
There were a couple of different kinds of tests that required dropping a precise number of little beads (768, if I recall correctly) into either a dry tray or a wet solution; carefully transferring oily, horrible vials of either horse or rabbit serum into the package; sliding in packing materials; and hand-transferring multiple labels onto each vial and box. The temperature was in the 90s, and the soundtrack was a constant rotation of “What’s Love Got to Do with It” and “I Ain’t Missing You At All,” the two big FM hits of the summer. (One day, the shipping-and-receiving guys somehow switched to a novelty channel, and I briefly heard the Fugs’ “Boobs a Lot,” which was inarguably the aesthetic high point of the entire experience. Except for the time one of the Filipina employees brought lumpia in a tiny, sad gesture of team spirit.)
Because everything had to be FDA-approved, each step of hot, frenetic activity was punctuated by a wait for the floor inspector to come by and make sure, for example, that the labels had been stuck on according to government standards, or that each of the 768 dimples in the plastic packing tray held a small, yellow bead. I usually spent that wait time trying not to lose consciousness … A couple of times, my chin did come within inches of the workbench before I bolted back upright.
I had to get up at 5:30am every weekday to start my shift. I’d drive down to the plant, work, eat something indescribable off the lunch wagon (while reading Joyce’s “Ulysses” — cripes!), then clock out at 3:30 and make a beeline downtown to join all you folks. I’d rarely make it home before 3am, and after a couple months on two hours sleep a night, I could make that looooong ride from downtown to Encinitas in my sleep … And basically did.
Noise 292 percussionist Wendell Kling remembers some of the intense hallucinations I experienced on that ride up 805 to 5 … Giant, mechanical spiders looming over University City … Hassidic Jews hitchhiking near Del Mar … glowing pools of blue light opening up in the center lanes every few miles … Then two hours later, back to the assembly line!
If anybody here received a faulty pregnancy diagnosis in the latter part of 1984, I personally apologize.
Matthew I remember that well. If I recall, the acronym name of the preg test was SLUGGO, right? Which I thought meant “Stop Littering Our Globe with Googling Orphans”.
I was also subjected to a lot of workplace-enforced top 40 that summer. I still gurgle a little bile each time I hear “Girls just wanna have fun”.
During most of the time I was hanging out with artistic-minded folks and other weirdos in San Diego, I worked at two main jobs. The first was delivering pizza for Aetna’s on El Cajon Blvd. I started that job in high school. It was a cool job, because I got my white, middle-class self out of the center of S.D. to all sorts of neighborhoods I hadn’t been to up to that point, like all the barrios and southeastern neighborhoods of the city. I can relate to the be-at-work-not-getting-paid thing. When I first worked there, the drivers would show up at the time they were scheduled for. They would sign in and then wait until enough orders piled up (literally, on top of the oven) for a driver to go out. Then he (it seemed to be always he, it was a potentially dangerous job, a guy got mugged when I was there) would clock in and go out. You got a little over minimum wage, had to use your own car and pay for the gas, but you got tips!
I worked at a Texas Bar-B-Q for a week. Greg Marx got me that job. It was in Kearney Mesa/Clairmont. Near Maria Dudley’s house. I think Greg rented a small room at Maria’s. Three people worked there at a time. The boss/owner was cowboy from hell. His job was to slice the meat. A young female employee worked the register. My job was to take big ol’ shoulders of beef that were in plastic bags covered in blood, slice the bag, and throw this heavy mother on the grill, which was about head-high. A few of those, some hams, and then I would make the bean salad. Then I would bus tables and wash dishes. All for $3.65 an hour. For a dollar a day I could eat all the red meat I wanted.
I got another job through Greg Marx, also in Kearney Mesa. I held this job for the longest continual period up to that point and for 13 years afterward: 6 months. The pizza delivery job was on and off over a few years. The job was to spray varnish on pool tables and rub it down. We wore gloves, but the stain would work its way in between the gloves and our shirts. It would get under your skin. It would embed itself in your teeth. Olhausen billiards. They sell them at upscale interior design places in San Francisco where members of the 49ers and people like that shop. $3.65 an hour.
Still living at my parents house, that $3.65 went a long way. I always had a burrito to eat, weed to smoke, beer to drink, and gas to drive all over the county. I didn’t really have money left over to buy many records or clothes with, I was terrible at managing money. I knew so many people who were into music I would just go over to their houses and listen.
Weeeeeeeeeelll,
Comic Kingdom. 1/2 my wages in comic books, 1/2 my wages in cash…and of course the time they hired me to play Conan the Barbarian for a TV commercial. Akchully they hired me to play a rabid comic/fantasy FAN who thought they were Conan. Evidently I was so skinny and such a nerd (glasses helped) that I fit the bill. I got paid in splif for that one.
Bobo and I dug a trench one day. Up a very steep hill as I remember. At the end of the day when we got to the bottom of the trench, there was a broken but very active sewer pipe. YUM! Now Bobo (Cricket) works at the shit plant…who knew he had such foresight?
Wahrenbrock’s Book House. My step-dad’s day job. So we all worked there for a while…all us kids of their full time staff. The upstairs neighbors were Atticus books who specialized in Beats and obscure modern American lit. Need a first edition of “The Ghost Ship” by B. Traven (of Treasure of the Sierra Madre fame)? Got it.
Sbarro’s Italian Eatery. Mission Valley Center. Started as a dishwasher ended up manager until I couldn’t stomach it any longer. Learned to make pizza while on many substances.
Left that one to work for Eric Bacher’s dad at the liquor store. Great boss. Great friend. He bought me a new hat and glasses when John Murphy and I got jumped in the park and the Bomber Boys stole my hat.
That hat was where I kept Bo Diddley’s E string…so it was lost forever.
I did some phone sales gigs and such amongst all that. I could kinda sell anything and did from time to time. Never liked it much though…can’t really rip people off and feel good about my job. Can’t be an asshole boss either, so if I was expected to do either I never lasted very long. It’s amazing how many bosses want you to be a creep. That’s kinda why I’m self employed to this day. I set my own rules. Never pays well but I’m not a creep at work.
I’m only a creep at home.
hehehehehehe
Pat
The Treasure of The Sierra Madre is a great book! I really liked it. Where was Wahrenbock’s? Was that in La Mesa?
This isn’t from “the day” but I had a job walking a pony through East LA. You had this pony and little cowboy suit. You had to convince the parents of the kids in the barrio to dress up their kid and stick them on the horse and then snap their picture. The sales guy, my boss would then go around with the prints and sell them a package of photos. Pony pictures are a big mex american tradition. One day the friggin pony laid down on the sidewalk and would not get up. It was a mess. The kids that wanted to do it were too old. The toddlers that you needed to get would cry so you couldn’t sell those shots. You only got paid if the pics sold, and, since you didn’t do the sales, you never really knew.
Downtown SD 6th and Broadway.
Still there but much smaller now.
pat
Swept up and did rentals a little at San Diego Surf Shop, dishwasher/occassional prep cook at Bernies next door to SD Surf shop, did crime, held drugs for a couple people, Washed dishes at St Germains in Cardiff and Borellis in Oceanside (low point right there). Began doing carpentry in late 83, early 84. Never planned to do it for 20 years. Love carpentry, don’t really like the industry itself or most of the people involved. Was really sucky doing carpentry with pink or blue hair or a mohawk. Lots of dumbass rednecks on construction sites back then.
I always thought Works was a nickname, because you were always working. I remember visiting one time at Sbarra.
Always at copy shops for me………..
Ted knows about copy shops.
I remeber I made some flyers at the shop one time late at night. Used about 100 color copies to make one good flyer. Back then color copies were like $5 a piece. I think I burned a whole months pay that night……….If they knew
Dave Fleminger has recalled how his Sea World food-service career with Squirrel led to the formation of SD punk legend Social Spit.
I’d also like to hear about the role of Aesop’s Tables as a source of funds for San Diego’s underground!
In a similar vein, the Encinitas Pannikin underwrote a large percentage of North County’s rock-‘n’-roll shenanigans in the mid-’80s. And I’m still hoping someone can do justice to Annie’s Hug of Leucadia, which was a source of employment for several local punks at the dawn of the ’80s.
I was also a Sea Word alum from the summer of 83 I think. The best SD related job I had was the summer of 85 (I think it was 85) when I worked at a croissant shop in the mall in Mission Valley. I was staying at Murphy’s on Normal St. and every day brought home a giant bag of leftover croissants -- ham and cheese, spinach, chocolate. I think I single-handedly raised the cholesterol level of the underground denizens many, many points that year. I haven’t eaten a croissant since.
I worked for the UCSD Guardian newspaper from 82-84, mostly doing illustration and graphics-prep along with driving the delivery cart (fun) and filling in for a short time as features editor (I was horrible at that). I’m guessing I participated in the last gen of paste-up (rolling up with wax) layout..?…I think there was one computer in the whole building.
The Guardian is located next door to the Che Cafe…
tempeh burgers and rock ‘n roll!!!
many many copies.collating by hand. Spiral binding = no fun. I worked a lot with Mike Stax and he had this little sony tape deck. We would listen to garage punk all day on this little thing. All the soroity girls would look at like we were nuts. And we were, at least I was. The machines back then were crude in comparison to today. We have a better copiers on our desktops now. When I first started there the Xerox 2400 was the deal, it had a row of green flourescent lights, no collator, no two sided, it took forever. I actually remember when the first fax came out. We were thinking who the hell is going to want to use this thing. For that matter I remember when the first calculators came out!! UGH! Now I am old and ugly.
Yeah, I was pretty handy on the slide rule myself.
I was the first dishwasher ever at the Pannikin in Encinitas and worked there from the summer of 1980 through 1985 off and on around school and other schedules. Smoking Coco-puffs in the basement. 1982/83 saw me eating bags full of chocolate covered espresso beans before going dancing at the Headquarters or King’s Road or where-ever. One summer’s recurrent Pop theme was Electric Avenue. One blissful summer working with Brian “Brymo” Kunz sucking down whipped cream nitrous and running out to the counter to help customers while experiencing the effects. I nearly doubled my income with “tip supplements” (selling coffees without ringing them into the register).
1984-89 was spent working at La Paloma Theater in Encinitas where we would climb out on the roof and smoke pot until the patrons would come and complain because the film reel would have ended. We would run in to find the screen blank white in the middle of the film. Oops.
One of the few cast-iron rules in my days at the Encinitas Pannikin was “don’t throw knives at Siouxie.”
Our manager, Carol Anderson, was a huge Siouxie and the Banshees fan, and she’d put a big poster up in the kitchen. All those knives Eric Sloan had been compulsively sharpening were being thrown forcefully by various staffers — either at random walls or at specific targets, Siouxie being a prominent one. So Carol laid down the law. I wonder what the customers thought all that thumping was about!
If the back of the Encinitas Pannikin could talk, it would be begging for mercy.
(PS to Dave Rinck: None of my jobs has ever offered training for how to evade suicide bombers. I think this should be covered under basic health insurance.)
In those early days, my job accountability maximum was maybe a month! I must have had close to 30 different jobs before I turned 21. Most of the early ones were kitchen positions. I worked at Baker from the Forest (in Mission Hills) as a line cook and the Soup Exchange on University. I also worked at this Chinese restaurant in Mission Valley called Peking Palace II. It was right around the corner from Sbarros where Pat was employed, along with Bobby Lane and this guy nicknamed “Slug”. I’d go and visit on my breaks. That job was cool cuz the owners would sell me large bottles of alcohol at cost -- and I was barely 18. But then the owner offered me a grand to marry him -- you know, so he could get citizenship? He seemed pretty OLD and I got all wierded out and stopped showing up.
oh jobs, being a gypsy bastard work was a means to an end, i did however manage to go from changing oil and tires and retailing of “party supplies” to programming launch codes and deactivating nuclear warheads. the government would trust anyone back then, in retrospect it does seem completely surreal.
I worked at Glen Abbey cemetary in Bonita installing sprinklers. When we moved to Colorado in ’84 I did the same thing there (my stepdad was a mortician). Also a dishwasher at a health food restaurant there in Colorado. The high point of that job was liberating a case of vodka, which made attending Wheatridge High School (home of the Wheatridge Farmers -- talk about steping back in time: I went from finally getting some respect at high school as my tormentors began to embrace things we had done a couple years prior (“Dude, Madness is cool”) to “PUNK SUCKS” again) When I moved back to S.D., almost immediately upon turning 18, with 60 bucks in my pocket and all my belongings packed up in the VW bus, Joe Hughes got me a job with Olan Mills delivering photo plans to people who were cold-called and sold these plans. Then, after graduating high school, at Tri-Axis machining in santee making Gull Wing trucks with John Nowell and others. That didn’t last long once I moved in with Murphy down at the end of Normal Street. In ’86 or so I started making cabinets, which lasted two years or so ’til I started at City College. I loved cabinetmaking, but was always broke. Then I found out about student loans and work study. Yay school!
Okay. First off, I spent five years ´81 to ´86 at the Food Basket in Mission Hills, where I pushed carts, bagged groceries and for the last three years, either took apart and cleaned the machines in the meat department after it closed at 5:00 (incredibly nasty job that I´m sure contributed to my vegetarianism years later) or awoke at 3:00 am to collect and bail cardboard. I was there for nearly all of the Hedgehogs, Mystery Machine and Tell-Tale Hearts days, and they let me pretty much dress how I wanted (I had to wear a tie, though) and only occasionally gave me shit about my hair. The night crew guys started to refer to me as ¨”Hollywood” after the TTH appeared in People Magazine. My funniest recollection of the Food Basket/Tell-Tale Hearts dichotomy was when we went on our midwest tour in January of ´85. John McKinney, the “promoter,” had some pretty cool psychedelic posters made and plastered in record shops all over Oklahoma and Missouri. Anyway, when we arrived, he told me that as he was putting up a poster in a Tulsa record store, some woman commented, “Hey! That guy bagged my groceries in San Diego, California!”
Following my exit from the world of meat and cardboard, I was hired by Lou Bacher, Eric´s dad and one of the two biggest employers of SD hipsters on record, the other being Dave Klowden´s dad, Bruce, with honorable mention going to Ted´s dad. Lou owned the Bottle Hatch, as well as a number of hotel gift shops, and employed Eric, Jeff, Pat, Mark Mullen, Bill Calhoun, etc. Bruce owned Aesop´s tables and employed David, Mike Stax, Peter English and a few others who later were charter members of Punks for Padres. Ted´s dad owned College Copy and employed Mike Stax, Terri and Ted Friedman, John Hanratti and Chris Gast, I think.