FIRST JOB MEMOIR
Driving Sam's Chevy Vega
In the city of Paradise
Sam's Deli was on the corner of Friendship Street. Every day after school, I walked there. It was my first job.
The inside of the deli had hardwood floors and chicken soup cans lining the shelves. A big, shiny case was full of meats, cheeses, and salads. The silver meat slicer was constantly humming with shavings of cold cuts on the floor. Sam's wife was often in the backroom at the bread slicer, wrapping loaves of fresh rye bread in clear plastic bags.
Sam always wore a white apron with mustard stains and squeaky ripple-sole shoes. He walked back and forth from the register to the deli case, fixing the gray strands of hair still left on his head. He had a raspy voice that barked orders," Mark, bring up the box of gefilte fish from the cellar. Mark, make sure you wipe down the meat slicer. And please, don't forget to fill up the Vega while you're out delivering."
I loved Sam like a father. He paid me seven dollars an hour in 1973 and gave me a fifty percent discount on all deli foods and bread, which was no small perk.
I called Sam the "Merlin of Corned Beef." He added salt, sugar, cloves, ginger, and a secret ingredient to his prized corned beef. He…
