Jobs I’ve had: Ponderosa Steakhouse

[Courtesy of Rusty's Jobs I've Had series.]

My first real job was with Ponderosa Steakhouse in South Georgia. I worked there for nearly a year, starting at the end of my junior year and continued until I graduated.

First let me tell you, it is not a real steakhouse. Sure, you can order a ribeye or the oddly named chicken fried steak, but.. most people came for the buffet.

I’m not quite sure how I happened upon this job. My friend R. worked the grill, told me they were hiring, drove me there after school one day.. and bam, I walked into my house later announcing that I had secured a job. They were quite amazed.

I started out working the cold bar (re-filling the salad bar – ugh), moved up to hot bar (where I learned how to make green bean casserole) and finally up to waitressing.

The uniform involved khakis (shorts, skirts or pants), a short green waist apron, a purple button down and tie that had tacos and burgers on it. For Real.

The nice thing about waitressing at Ponderosa was that a lot of roughneck Southerners and Navy guys frequented there, so it was easy to get nice tips if you wore short shorts and cocked your head.

But alas, my favorite tip story was when a couple had requested more butter for their rolls. After they left, their receipt had, “Where’s our butter?” written on it, with a quarter sitting on it. Damn.

And there was quite a cast characters who worked there, from The Manager – who referred to CNN as the Clinton News Network and slept with one of the 16 year old waitresses – to The MILF Waitress – who once told a group of patrons that she stayed in shape through sexercise – to the Pregnant Waitress – who smoked like a chimmey and was very vocal about telling people it was her right to smoke.

One night, I had had enough and stormed out of the restaurant and attempted to tear out of the parking lot.. and backed right into a friend from high school. We did not call the police however because he had been drinking. He paid for my car and I went back to work.

Another night, one of the cooks gave me a ride home and attempted to impress me with his awesome “bat out of hell” driving on a dirt road. Bad idea. The car spun out of control and I flew out of the windshield (no, I was not wearing my seat belt). I escaped uninjured, but I do have a few scars to remind me to buckle up. Every. Time.

One thing is for sure – it was never dull.