When I was a teenager, I worked as the “Sheet-out-boy” at a local Pizza place.
In other words, I took a ball of Dough, dropped it into the top of this rolling machine, and it would flatten the Dough and roll it out like a flat sheet of paper.
I’d then stretch that flattened Dough out more by hand and fit it into the Pizza Pan.
Over and Over, I’d do that each night.
I’d have to split it up between Small, Medium, and Large Pizza Pans.
On a Friday or Saturday Night, I’d Sheet-Out between 300 and 500 pans of Dough.
Over and Over, I’d drop the ball of Dough into the machine, grab it as it came out, and spread it into a Pizza Pan. All night long.
Towards the end of closing, I’d begin washing all the Pizza Pans and Utensils used.
I had no earbuds in my ears to listen to my music.
So, I’d sing Pink Floyd or Aerosmith songs in my head as I worked.
The other employees, mostly teens like me, would watch me.
They once told me, “We all thought you were ‘Stoned’ when you came into work because you’d stand there and do Sheet-Outs for hours without stopping.” I laughed.
I once got promoted to working the Pizza Ovens. It was short-lived, though. I messed a few orders up by giving customers the wrong Pizza, and I got sent back to doing “Sheet-Outs.”
Truth be told, I never wanted to work the ovens. It’s too hot in that area.
They did give me a “Title,” though. “Head of Sheet-Outs.”
I took the job for the purpose of making friends.
My only bills were my car payment and a Gas Charge Card.
As long as I made my car payment, Papa would pay my auto insurance.
Why bring this up?
Well, I did make friends with the others while working there, which is why I took the job to begin with.
And I just now got through talking on the phone with one of those friends.
We’ve been friends going all the way back to my teens.
I set out looking for a job to make friends, and it worked.
