This Saturday I earned the nickname "Kitchen" working at a christmas tree farm, my uncle's. Since I'm a bit taciturn, I didn't sell trees. I was in and out of the house making and serving co-coa and coffee for the unruly crowd of customers.
Everyone is different, a cliche that my expirience has emphasized. Some people would hover very close to me until I offered them coffee, while some would shove me aside, grab the very cup from my hand, and fill it themself. Some one bought a $27 tree, then asked if I had change for $100. It took me a while to figure that one out. Heck, it took me a while to figure out the change for $40; I shouldn't be a cashier.
After the hectic day, my uncle approached me. He puffed up his chest and said, "Since you're now 16, I'm going to pay you more than minumum wage, $7 an hour!" He smiled and looked proud of himself. I nodded in agreement, then mentioned bashfully, "Uncle, minimum wage is $7.65..."
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