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My mother was a very wonderful woman. When she and my dad divorced, she moved to California and worked two jobs in the cannery at night and as a waitress during the day. But she saved enough money to establish a restaurant.

Ninety percent of my best friends back home are plumbers, electricians, builders, or landscapers. Most of our dads worked in trades.

My dad was a plumber, and my mom was on and off again, either a stay-at-home mom or working with the disabled as a visiting-nurse assistant.

My dad was a bartender. My mom was a cashier, a maid and a stock clerk at K-Mart. They never made it big. They were never rich. And yet they were successful. Because just a few decades removed from hopelessness, they made possible for us all the things that had been impossible for them.

I used to tell people my father was a plumber, because that would mean we had a normal life.

My dad's a worker, an electrician, a bog standard job. Nothing glamorous like a footballer, but yet he still provided me with what I needed.

I worked as a secretary, a waitress and a dance teacher - all in high school.

When my parents met, my mother was a waitress and my father was a dockyard worker. They were part of that post-war better-yourself generation, so they both went to night school.

I was a bartender at a Pizzeria Uno's for nine years. The people I worked with were amazing, but it was quite possibly the most miserable time of my life.

My mother's a secretary; my father's an electrician in a mining company.