Picture a hot cramped hallway, a single corridor, surrounded by tables, ovens, sinks, and almost any other thing a restaurant would need. Ovens placed neatly across one side while the pizza is created on the other. Old slippery tiles lay across the floor, blackened from years of ash, are now covered with square mats to prevent accidents. I gaze upon the kitchen as a 2 lane freeway in opposing directions. The pizzas are carried across the intersections, only barely escaping an accident. Tossing and turning suddenly. Luckily, the pizzas make it to their destination in one piece. While you may think that sounds like excitement, it is the complete opposite. You can try to gaze upon the wide window in the front of the building but a neon pizza sign forces your eyes to lock on to it for a short period of time. And, By that time your interest is gone and replaced with a new customer waiting for a pizza.

Simply walking through the hallway is a dangerous act. With long wooden pizza holders being hauled all throughout the building and slippery floors, it’s a miracle pizzas aren’t flying everywhere. I deliver tickets through the mob of people to a silver table at the end of the hall. Workers chatter in spanish while I walk past, disregarding me completely. Some of the workers are unable to speak english, making 5 hour shifts unbearable with no one to talk to but the occasional server. I greet the customers when the enter the small waiting room. Rusty red chairs scatter across the small room, accompanied by ancient photos of the opening of a new building or of their special for $3 pizzas in the 1980’s. I am standing upon the very ground those workers 50 years ago. Being a cashier for bill's pizza is a difficult job at times, and while making almost minimum wage is a reality I have to face, The job experience itself is priceless.