I was waken up by my housemates that there was a farm job with a lot of beautiful Mexican girls while attending California State University at Fresno. I tried to look my best - silly me.
It was about picking oranges and there were some ladies with their primes passed long, long time ago. The crate was higher than I. After spending one tough, sweating morning, we filled up one crate and each of us got about a dollar which we spent in a Swedish eat-all-you-can joint. We piled up the bones of a thousand of chicken wings and we became a soda machine ourselves (due to drinking too much).
Now I am really sorry for the restaurant owner and to the chicken without the wings. That is my first and last job as a laborer and the laborers gain my respect particularly the Mexican workers legal or illegal. I never have wasted a dollar since that day.
It is about lies, beautiful girls in our dreams, hard farm work, tough business to run a restaurant, the value of money... At least I have a good story to tell to my grand children and of course with the beautiful young ladies instead of the old ladies to make my story more interesting.
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