Boy, did I feel lucky when I scored my first summer job. I was 15. Once I reported to work the feeling of good fortune rapidly dissipated. My manager at Poncho’s Mexican Buffet was named Minnie. A rather ironic name considering she was as close as a human could come to resembling a ball; and she was a mean sphere. Read More: Vail Daily column: Tough summer jobs teach good lessons | VailDaily.com.