Taken to the Cleaners

At the ripe old age of 17, I got a job at a dry cleaners in Oak Park. The manager needed an assistant, or at least, that’s what he said. He was an older man, probably about my grandfather’s age, which would have put him in the high 60s, low 70s.

When I was 17, there was no such thing as sexual harassment. At least it wasn’t on the news or in the paper; expulsions and juvenile detention sentences for kindergarten boys who kissed kindergarten girls on the cheek didn’t exist. So when this man had me follow him around the store all day long, I didn’t think anything of it. Especially in light of the fact that I needed to be trained.

Trained? For what exactly was I being trained? I had no idea.

He took me around the plant, showed me the huge cleaning machines, the lines and rows of plastic-enveloped clothes, the immigrants slaving away, sweating, over hot steamy ironing boards.

He folded a thing here and there. He mentioned something about this and something about that. And at the end of my four hour shift, he paid me in cash: $14.00. Then he said to give him a kiss goodbye. It was only a cheek kiss, so I agreed. I figured he was harmless, this old dry cleaning man, and he was going to give me $14.00 per day.

The next day was the same, follow the man around, get paid $14.00, give him a kiss. The third, likewise. By the fourth day, I was thinking that this was quite an orientation for a person whose sole purpose at this place was doing nothing but following an old man around, collecting money in $14.00 increments, and giving him pecks on the cheek at quitting time. On the fifth day, I quit.

For four solid days it never occurred to me, not once, that I was working for a dirty old man as arm candy. Was I really that stupid? Probably not. I was more duped than anything. What had started out as a seemingly legitimate employment opportunity, had I not quit, could possibly have gone the way of a sick old man taking advantage of a naïve young girl. I am embarrassed that I didn’t think of this sooner, that I even gave the coot one single kiss on the cheek. But I also I shudder to remember it.