My first job was at a place called Frosty's, the only real hangout in my small prairie town. The front third of the building was dedicated to cheeseburgers and soft ice cream; further back in the middle was a modest pinball arcade, while in the rear was a pool hall. Many God-fearing townsfolk considered this to be three levels of Hell, descending from evil, dinner-spoiling sweets to money-sucking coin-operated amusements, to the domain of smokers, ne'er-do-wells, and hooligans.In the middle of it all was a commercial jukebox, a beat-up thing with terrible audio, and about 50 records.