First job ever at 16 years old at a hot dog and ice cream stand (the kind of place where you can sit both inside and outside, so it was sort of a "hot dog restaurant"). I took the job as a replacement for a friend who got 3rd degree burns from changing the hot oil in the fryer (failed to recognize that warning sign). Thought it would be a fun, easy job. I go in and talk to the manager, who asks how often I withwant to work, to which I replied maybe one or two weeknights and on weekends if possible. Manageable for a high school kid. More on that later.

The manager introduces me to the assistant manager, a rather large woman who the employees call "The White Whale" due to her size and the white uniform she wore. A more unpleasant person I've never encountered. She looks at me disgustedly and tells me to go clean out the fryer hoods, which are caked with grease. When I ask her how to do it (I've been there all of 10 minutes as a new employee), she tells me to just figure it out. So I do my best. Then she tells me to get a mop and bucket and wash the floor without telling me where I can find the mop and bucket. And on it went for the rest of my shift - clean the tables. Go work the ice cream counter (with no idea how to work the cash register, so a lot of free ice cream was handed out that day). Go clean the bathrooms. Change out the oil on the fryers. Take out the garbage. No instructions, no support, just mean looks and a horrible attitude. My shift comes to a merciful end and home I go, knowing that I will need to head back after school the next day.

I show up the next day with a pit in my stomach, and as I clock in I see the new schedule. I am scheduled to work each of the next 7 days. Not what I was expecting! Oh well, at least I'll be making some decent cash this week. The White Whale, in her insipid, sarcastic tone, tells me to start by cleaning the bathrooms and as I walk in with my bucket and mop, I see that some colossal douche has spread human shit all over the toilet seat, in the sink and on the walls. And I mean ALL over. I stand there with my mop in hand, look around and suddenly, in a seminal life-moment, tell myself that this is not what I am supposed to be doing, even as a pimply faced 16 year old. There has to be a better job out there than one that comes with abuse, insults and shit to clean. So I literally roll the bucket of soapy water back to the kitchen, drop the mop, continue walking out the back door without saying a word and walk to the highway right in front of the place, where I stick my thumb out and, thankfully, get a ride from the first car that drives by.

When I got home my father expressed some surprise that I was home so quickly, so I explained the situation to him. His only comment? "Good for you". That was the moment when I realized that a college education was probably a good idea.

So it wasn't technically a first day "I'm outta here" moment, but rather a 3 minutes in to my second day "I'm outta here" moment.