It was time, and I really didn’t feel ready. But the food bill had dragged on too long. My boss was insistent. “Go collect the cash from those sailors,” he said.

So I tucked my white short-sleeved shirt into my white trousers. And then, because I had food stains on the lower portion of the shirt and the top of my trousers, I tied a freshly cleaned and starched apron around my waist. I looked ready. But I still didn’t feel like it.

And off I strode, looking for a certain U.S. Navy vessel undergoing refitting at a San Diego shipyard. It was quite a walk from the cafeteria to the ship, but I didn’t mind because it gave me time to prepare myself mentally. A handful of sailors had run up a tab of nearly $200 during the previous three weeks because I allowed them to charge their food at the remote lunch stand I operated for the cafeteria.

And now it was time to pay the piper because my boss was slightly furious that the chit had been allowed to reach the total. I mean, it was 1963 and that was a lot of chow considering the prevailing prices. I had granted credit because -- well, because I couldn’t see a reason not to. After all, the sailors promised they’d pay me. Besides, I was a somewhat gullible 19-year-old.

Finally reached the vessel after making my way through the hazards of a major shipyard. Found my way to the mess hall aboard ship, and contacted the commanding officer, with whom I had spoken via telephone a few days earlier. He and his fellow officers were at their own table in the main dining area because the officers mess was torn up during refitting.

Their table had a tablecloth and a steward. I took a deep breath and addressed the C.O. He gave me a gimlet glance, and then berated me for allowing sailors to charge. “They’re sailors for Pete’s sake,” he intoned. “Did you expect them to pay?”

I answered, “Yes.”

He continued to grumble, finally advising me that there was no way they could collect the total debt. But the crew had agreed, he said, to fork over $95 from their recreation fund. I took the cash and left.

Upon my return, the boss was not happy, and told me so in no uncertain terms. And I never let sailors charge their food again. Even when they promised they’d pay.

Not long after, I left that job. After all, I didn’t look that good in white clothing, even with a fresh apron.