I Spoke Up At 16 And A Man Was Fired From His “Good Union Job”
His lawyer tried to persuade me to recant: “Do you want a family man to lose his job?”
He likely thought we were easy marks. We arrived in an older Chrysler minivan, pulling in front of the valet stand at the fanciest hotel in the city. My date was driving his mom’s minivan, I was in the front passenger seat, and two other couples sat in the second and third rows. The guys had on tuxedoes while the girls were wearing formal dresses. We were a bunch of baby-faced teens from the suburbs who looked like lost sheep. I was 16 years old.
The guys had planned a special treat for us before going to the Winter Formal dance at our high school. We had a reservation for dessert at the hotel’s restaurant but we were now late. My date had already circled the area a few times trying to find free parking but the entire downtown was packed with visitors going to see the holiday lights.
By the time we decided to pull into the hotel’s grand driveway, we were desperate and figured we would have to pay a big parking fee. I rolled down my window when the valet approached. After exchanging greetings, I asked, “How much does valet parking cost?”
He hesitated and then said, “Fifteen dollars.”
