My grandparents owned a small restaurant called the Airport Grill in Waters, an eye blink of a town a couple miles up the road. And yes, there was an “airfield” right behind it. “Field” being the key word. I don’t remember any concrete runway nor anything but a small private plane or a National Guard helicopter parked out on the grass.
My first job was as a waitress there.
Unless you count reservations clerk for our small motel. My dad still tells the story of waking up in the middle of the night to find me out in our screened porch handing a room key to a strange couple. I ‘d already taken them out to view the room, and they had filled out the registration card. I was probably still in elementary school, and I don’t know that I learned anything from that, but I’m guessing my parents did.
Anyway, back to the restaurant . . .
CONTINUED over at Red Letter Believers
This post is part of a series on first jobs that David Rupert is hosting over at his place. I got to meet David in real life last September on the Frio River–literally–and found him to be a man with a heart for God, people, and all creation. He has a passion for encouraging us to live out our faith in every aspect of life.
Come on over and read the rest of my story, and while you’re there, poke around his site and get to know him, too. He writes good words. One of my favorite posts of his is this recent one, Fire on the Mountain.
Also, don’t miss some of the other first jobs posts listed in the top right sidebar of his site.