I've noticed that certain parts of my history are becoming history...
My working history in particular.
This is a bit of a time capsule, something to remember before the bulldozers have their little way.
My very first job, at 16, was cleaning the public interiors of an old three story apartment building. I got paid $20 to mop hallways, vaccuum floors and scrub a 16 step marble staircase every Saturday morning. It was hard work, made harder by a woman who made it her duty to sit in the hallway outside of her apartment to supervise my mop skills. "Hold it straight!... Push, don't drag!" She never introduced herself, but I noticed that she wore green saddle shoes. So I called her Green Shoes. Green Shoes was always watching.
She taught me that while a good job doesn't always receive praise, a bad job never goes un-noticed.
I noticed that the apartment complex, my first job, is now for sale.
My second job, a year later, was a lot of fun. I was a runner at a popular r…