Strange Dealings at the Oven Mitt Factory

<p>In 1991, I lived in San Francisco and was in desperate need of work. I grabbed a Bay Guardian newspaper and searched the classifieds. There were plenty of clerical and medical assistant gigs but I didn&rsquo;t want to work in a corporate or hospital setting. I considered a bike messenger gig but this required something sturdier than my wounded Schwinn. That&rsquo;s when a strange ad leaped out at me: &ldquo;Oven Mitt Factory in need of Customer Service Manager.&rdquo; This was mysterious and worthy of a second look.</p> <p>I called the number and spoke with the company president, a woman named Catherine. She sounded young and quirky though her dialogue was dotted with hippie jargon like &ldquo;bummer,&rdquo; &ldquo;trippy&rdquo; and &ldquo;you dig.&rdquo; We arranged an interview for the following day.</p> <p><a href="https://lorenwoodcuts.medium.com/strange-dealings-at-the-oven-mitt-factory-9f251c94885e"><strong>Visit Now</strong></a></p>