Restaurants have a lot to offer a young employee: food, cash and other young employees. So, when I was younger, I had a lot of restaurant jobs.

Have you ever experienced something as a kid, and years later, reflected on the experience and seen it in a whole new light? Maybe it's a function of age. I only know that once upon a time I worked for the world's greatest manager. I didn't realize it then. It was 20 years ago. Her name was Jackie, and she was the owner and manager of Foxy John's Coffee Shop.

I'm going to tell you how Jackie got me to do things I never thought I would do. She got me, a rebellious know-it-all kid, to comply and deliver. Think it's a challenge getting employees to do what you want? Let me share sales and leadership tips from Jackie, Management Master, and coffee shop owner.

Hot Shot

I sauntered into Foxy John's, wondering, "Who's the genius who came up with that name?" I looked around the coffee shop - bright yellow vinyl booths, and more wrought iron than The French Quarter in New Orleans. The décor made McDonald's Playland look tasteful. But it was spotlessly clean, which surprised me a bit.

I asked the hostess if I could fill out an application and speak to the manager about a job. Of course, I was pretty sure I wasn't going to work at a place like that, you know, a lowly coffee shop. The cashier handed me an application, and said,

"Jackie is the owner, and general manager. You'll need to visit with her if you are interested in working here. She will review your application and conduct a short interview at 2:30 on Saturday afternoon."

Then, she arched her eyebrow and added, "Be on time. And I suggest you dress up."

What? How dare she! I mean, sure, I was wearing my favorite Cheech and Chong T-shirt and a pair of sweat pants - very few holes. But, it was a coffee shop for crying out loud. How particular could they be?

Still, I was intrigued. How could they be so formal, so hoity-toity? I had worked for a dozen restaurants. In most cases, I was hired on the spot, and asked, "Can you start this afternoon?" Never had I been chastised for inappropriate dress! Sheesh.

But, Saturday afternoon, I returned, at precisely 2:30, wearing a khaki skirt and a pressed blouse. Not that I planned on working there, mind you. I just wanted to meet this Jackie chick.

I submitted my application to the cashier, and sat down in a booth to wait. Jackie breezed in - big smile, firm handshake and a perfectly fitted designer suit. Very classy. She looked over my application and we chit chatted. Then, she put on her glasses and asked three very sharp questions:

• If you spilled coffee on a customer's lap, what would you do?

• Do you like money?

• When is it OK to tell a lie?

Now, as a soon-to-graduate business student, we had been practicing interviewing skills in class. Jackie blew me away with these questions! Much better than the ones in my Personnel textbook. I stammered and offered these responses.

• Apologize, ask if he is alright, and keep my hands out of his lap.

• Yes, I love money.

• Never.

Jackie, poker-faced, just nodded. She said, "Would you be available Monday afternoon for a second interview?"

I said, "SURE! I mean, yeah, I suppose so." Why was I so interested? I certainly wasn't going to work there. But, suddenly it was important to me that Jackie would want me to work for her. So, I agreed to meet her at 2:30 on Monday.

Dressed To Impress

Finally, Jackie said, "We would like to offer you a position as a waitress here at Foxy John's." She said this solemnly, as if she were a queen bestowing knighthood. She continued:

"Your employment is dependent on three things. First, you must tell the truth. Always. Lie, cheat or steal and you are gone. Second, you will do things my way. I've got a system here, and it works. If you want to play, I can help you make lots of money and have a lot of fun. Third, you must wear the uniform. From tip to toe, you need to wear the official Foxy John's uniform."

Looking back, I realized that I was sucked into Jackie's game from the moment the cashier challenged me on my outfit. At the time, however, I still thought I might not want to work there. The reality was that I was hooked, and Jackie knew it. She knew the effect she had on me. But she also knew, that any 21-year-old girl was going to have trouble wearing that uniform.

Suzy got up and walked into the kitchen. She returned with a young woman, about my age, who was sporting the official Foxy John's uniform. I gasped. I almost threw up. This, my friend, is what I would wear as a Foxy John's Coffee Shop waitress:

• Bright white (polished every day) nurse's shoes.

• 20 gauge support hose. The really nasty Band-Aid colored kind, like your grandma wore.

• Hot Pants. Remember them? Only these were made of thick brown polyester.

• A skirt over the Hot Pants. Why?

• A fitted bodice, same brown polyester. The color of dog poop.

• A flirty, yellow and white gingham apron. Stiff material. Kevlar, I think.

• All topped off with poufy sleeves. They were so poufy, that the waitress's earrings were resting on the top of the poufs.

My mouth hung open. Certainly, the waitresses didn't really wear that? Perhaps that was the suggested uniform. Jackie leaned forward, looked me in the eye and said, "You'll wear that if you want to work here. If you show up with white sneakers instead of the nursing shoes (How did she know what I was thinking!) I'll send you home. Out of uniform twice, and you are gone for good."

Maybe I accepted the job just to find out if people really wore that horrible costume everyday. Maybe I wanted to see how Jackie managed to pull off getting young girls to willingly wear an outfit that would condemn them to eternal spinsterhood.

. Whatever it was, Jackie sold me. I took the job.

On my first day, I showed up wearing a coat over the dreaded uniform. I wore sunglasses, as I had damaged my retinas by looking directly at my too-white shoes. It was 7:30 on a Saturday morning, and the restaurant was buzzing with brown and yellow waitresses. No one seemed to mind wearing the uniform. I took my coat and glasses off, and reported to Suzy.

Suzy handed me a nine-page training guide. I wasn't to speak directly to a customer for the first week of my training.

"Uh, Suzy," I offered helpfully, "I already know how to waitress. I have had lots of experience."

"I know," Suzy countered. "But, Jackie insists on doing things her way. And her system is pretty good. Play it by the book. She hired you in spite of your experience. Jackie is unimpressed with what passes for service at most restaurants. By the way, Ellen, congratulations. Jackie is picky. You are the first person she's hired in the last 25 interviews."

Really? Well. How about that? Instantly, I stood taller in my scratchy polyester. I looked around at the other waitresses, all friendly and welcoming. Learning how particular Jackie was, they moved up a notch in my eyes.

Still I tested the limits. Was Jackie as tough as she made herself out to be? I cornered another waitress, Alyssa, while she was filling saltshakers.

"So, what's Jackie really like? She talks a big game, but would she fire you if you didn't wear the shoes?"

Alyssa said, "The money is so good. The work is easy and fun. Why risk it over the shoes? What's the point?"

Suddenly, I felt petty. What was the point? Alyssa said kindly, "The shoes bug everyone at first. Jackie has weird taste. How about the name? Foxy John's? And, have you ever seen so much wrought iron? But, it all seems to work."

Every day I bought more of what Jackie was selling. She was a fanatic about numbers. Everything we sold was documented on this huge white board. Total sales, average sales, number of customers. Selling was the game -and there were contests everyday. What a competitive bunch of women! Once, I bought a brownie myself just to break the tie and win the dessert contest.

Suzy grilled me like a drill sergeant on procedures. On a busy shift, a coffee shop waitress can write more than 100 tickets. Suzy would grade each ticket, and make corrections in red pen. No kidding! Each week she would go over the red marks, showing you the right way to do it. Each week I made fewer mistakes.

Lessons To Learn

• Smile. Show some teeth.

• You might just be the best part of someone's day. Husbands and wives grow tired of talking to each other. Talk to them. Entertain them. Give them something to talk about after you're gone.

• Ask questions. Listen. Answer questions. Give them what they want.

• Use adjectives to describe what you offer. Never say, "Do you want some dessert?" Instead say, "Wow, we just pulled a fresh apple pie out of the oven. Would you like some? Maybe with a scoop of vanilla ice cream melting on top?" (Note: sell clean air, pure water, dust-free surfaces and total comfort - not part numbers.)

• Bigger sales mean bigger tips. Even if someone is a chronic 10 percent tipper, 10 percent of $10 is more than 10 percent of $5. (Note: commission.)

• Support the people who support you. Befriend the dishwasher and bus-person. (Note: installer and dispatcher.) They make your life easy.

• Punt with personality. This is a great tip. At some point, you are going to screw up. Be yourself. Take responsibility. And don't rest until you have resolved the problem.

Jackie taught me how to sell. I loved Jackie. I would've taken a bullet for her. (It probably would've bounced off the Kevlar bodice anyway.) Six months later, I graduated and moved away. Now, as an older woman, I appreciating what she taught me.

Jackie taught me about sales. And discipline. Most importantly, Jackie taught me about leadership. If she could get me to wear that uniform, well, what wouldn't I do for her?

Substitute water heaters for pancakes. Think you could learn something from Jackie?