It’s 3:50 AM, and I’m standing outside the Ralphs grocery store on 17th Street in Santa Ana, CA. My first day on the job.
A month or so ago, my mom came home from grocery shopping at that same Ralphs and discovered she had been undercharged a few dollars. She immediately went back to the store and asked to see the manager, Scott Lund, to repay the difference.
He was impressed. A few days later, Mom got a letter in the mail from Scott thanking her again and offering her a “Ralphs cake of your choice” from the bakery.
I didn’t think much of it then. After all, I was marking time until leaving for Navy boot camp in 10 months. With that much time, I tried to find a second part-time job to supplement my work at an after-school daycare center, but I was having no luck.
The economy was in bad shape. It was the reason I joined the Navy in the first place. Six months earlier, I graduated from dental lab technology school but couldn’t find a job. My instructors, all prior Navy, suggested I join the Navy to continue my lab journey and maybe ride out the bad economy.
After doing a mountain of paperwork, I was sworn into the Delayed Entry Program (DEP), which meant I was sort of in the Navy but not officially. That meant I had nearly a year to wait.
After hearing me complain about no jobs, Mom reaches out to Scott Lund at Ralphs and asks if he had any openings.
The timing couldn’t be better. Scott says they need a morning wrapper. I have no idea what that is, but the hours are 4:00 AM to 8:00 AM and pays $7.00 an hour.
Mom gives me the good news and tells me my first day is the following Monday.
Lesson Learned: Always do the right thing. You might just benefit from it.
Mr. Lund (as I’m instructed to call him) calls to let me know I should be outside the front door of the store at 3:50 AM and use a key or something to knock loudly on the glass door. Then, my boss, Ralph (yeah, I know, Ralph works at Ralphs), would let me in and show me what to do.
I reach into my pocket for my car keys and knock loudly. A moment later, Ralph appears.
He’s in his early 30s, I’d guess. I’ve seen him there before since I basically grew up shopping at that Ralphs. For a guy that young, he was losing his hair and wore an awful rug on his head that he slicked down. In fact, my dad often referred to him as “Slick” (not to his face) since he often saw Ralph when we shopped in the morning.
He opens the door to let me in, and immediately I smell cigarette smoke. Ralph and most of the morning crew are heavy smokers. I introduce myself and shake his hand, and he walks me to the back where the time clock is. My hand smells like cigarette smoke.
Then Ralph explains the job.
The morning stock crew arrives at 1:00 AM and unloads the semi-trucks that pulled in overnight with the previous day’s order. They wheel the cases of food to the appropriate aisles, cut the boxes open with box cutters, and stock the shelves.
My job is to follow one aisle behind them, tear down the empty cardboard boxes, and put them in a large canvas bag that’s tied to a half-dumpster with wheels I push around. Once that was done, I get a dolly (called a two-wheeler), load up all the go-backs (boxes of stock that won’t fit on the shelf), and take them back to Receiving. Go-backs are put out the next day if more room was available on the shelves. Then, when all that was done, I help the morning crew face the shelves. That means pulling canned and boxed goods to the front, turning the labels in the right direction, and aligning them—making it all look nice and neat.
It’s not a challenging job, but it’s physically taxing. Within a month, I drop about 15 lbs. I enjoy it, though. The stock crew is friendly, even though they are much older than my 18 years. Larry Butcher, the Receiving manager, is a retired Navy Chief. A real old salt. He speaks in a gravelly voice and often pages me on the overhead: “Mack, Receiving! Mack, Receiving!” to give me a task. He likes me since he knows I’m heading to Navy boot camp soon. Larry is also a day trader. He mentors several of the morning crew, guiding them on stock trades. One morning, he exuberantly shouts over the overhead, “Adam-Millis opened up 10% higher!” Shouts of joy fill the empty store. The morning crew, investing with Larry’s advice, has just made a lot of money.
As time goes on, I show more initiative. Larry cuts out a cardboard letter “E” and puts it on the dumpster near the loading dock. He explains that it was a Battle E, awarded to top Navy ships and units. He says I’ve earned it with my performance here. I’m very proud of that.
Aside from Larry, the rest of the crew is an odd bunch. They are loud and boisterous. One of them rigs a box of Tic-Tacs with a rubber band onto the button of the overhead pager. Then, they put a small portable radio near it and crank up the music. The store doesn’t open until 8:00 AM, so we have it all to ourselves. They cut cases open and stock quickly, deftly holding the box cutter while balancing cigarettes between their fingers or lips. We listen to Back on the Chain Gang by The Pretenders, Do You Really Want to Hurt Me? by Culture Club, and Overkill by Men at Work. Some 40 years later, I still think of those early mornings at Ralphs when I hear those songs.
A few weeks later, one of the crew, a Marine veteran named Dennis, is horsing around with Miguel, the porter. Miguel sweeps, mops and shines the floors after we stock and face. Dennis pulls out his box cutter and pretends to sword fight with him, but Miguel gets too close. Dennis accidentally slashes him across the chest. Blood soaks through his white shirt. Ralph gets him to the back to tend to the wound, and Dennis is fired on the spot.
Now there is an opening on the morning crew.
Ralph pulls me aside the next morning to let me know I’m being promoted to morning crew (also known as the Night Stockers, a term that would go out of fashion a few years later after serial killer Richard Ramirez, known as the “Night Stalker,” creates a reign of terror over Los Angeles). I know the job. I’ve been observing for some time.
The pay raise is significant. I now make $12.00 an hour, but the job starts much earlier. I now work from 1:00 AM to 8:00 AM. It means my sleep schedule changes, but I quickly learn I don’t need that much sleep. On most days during the summer, I work 1:00-8:00 at Ralphs, then head to summer camp at the daycare center from 9:00-4:00. I buy a car, a 1982 Mercury Capri with the 5.0-liter engine. Life is good. I have lots of money, and now I’m starting to rethink joining the Navy.
Lesson Learned: Work your ass off at all times. You never know when it will come back to benefit you.
Scott Lund pulls me aside the next day and asks if I knew anyone who can take the morning wrapper job. I suggest my lab school classmate Vic, who is also struggling to find a lab job.
Vic sucks at the job. He is lazy and unfocused—very different from how he was in lab school. He lasts a month and quits. Scott hires someone else. I feel somehow my reputation is now tarnished. And I never speak to Vic again.
Lesson Learned: Don’t refer family or friends, even your best friends, if they can’t do the job. It reflects on YOU.
Soon, Ralph moves off the night crew and is replaced by another manager named Mike. He is also a Navy vet but a complete asshole. Within a month, I hear rumors I’m telling everyone Mike doesn’t pull his weight on the morning crew. Nothing is further from the truth. I have no idea who said it or why, but I’m learning the realities of life in the adult workforce.
Lesson Learned: The adult workplace can be a tough place to navigate. Only the strong survive.
I focus on work, doing my best to be faster than my teammates. I look for extra things to do. Despite the issues with Mike, I’m liked by everyone. Soon, things are back to normal, and eventually Mike warms up to me. I hear rumors I’m being considered for the order clerk position. That job is held by a guy named Marty, who is being considered for crew lead. Scott Lund thinks I might be a good fit. The best part? Marty makes a whopping $20.00 an hour as order clerk.
Now, I’m really rethinking my Navy choice. There is a future here for me. I could be successful, and wouldn’t have to leave home. By then, I’m even rethinking being a lab tech. This job was relatively easy, and I’m certain that after order clerk, crew lead, and department manager, eventually store manager would be mine. I begin researching ways to void my Navy contract.
But as December 5, 1983, draws closer, I realize that Ralphs is a job, not a real career. And while it’s great for an 18-year-old, seeing guys like Larry and Mike—Larry in his 60s and Mike in his 40s—I realize I don’t want to be stocking shelves, cutting boxes, and facing soup cans for the rest of my life. I resign myself to honoring my military commitment.
Lesson Learned: Don’t allow some success to derail you from a plan that promises massive success.
On the morning of December 5, 1983, I leave home at 4:00 AM to head to the recruiter’s office to get processed for boot camp. I pass by Ralphs.
Seeing the lights on makes me nostalgic and just a little bit homesick. I do a U-turn and head back to the Ralphs parking lot.
I drive up along the glass doors and see the crew working. Although I can’t hear anything, my mind fills in what’s happening:
Loud music.
Crude jokes.
Cigarette smoke.
Laughter.
I miss it already.
Wanting to say goodbye, I pull alongside the front door, blow my horn loudly, then stomp on the gas and burn rubber out of the parking lot.
Adulthood has officially begun. But fortunately, this job has equipped me well.