Friday, October 13, 2006

May I take your order?

Funny, Little.Red.Boat's post reminded me of Jobs I've hated and Loved to Lose.

My first "real" job (as in "not babysitting") involved spending one afternoon per week stuffing envelopes for my best-friend's mom's Med-Tech staffing agency. My best-friend and I would sit on the floor of her little office in downtown Chicago, folding and stuffing for two hours at $3.50 an hour. I made $7.00 a week. Train fare there and back cost me $2.00. To cash the check at the currency exchange cost me about $.90 cents. My first job at age 14 or 15 netted me $4.10 per week (at hourly wages that low there was no such thing as taxes). I don't know how long I felt that was worth my while, but I know it wasn't long.

There was the 20 minutes (or maybe 5 weeks) I spent working as a cashier at the local White Hen Pantry (a.k.a Quickie Mart). My Dad got me that job. I used to work Saturday and Sunday mornings starting at 7:00 a.m. This is distinctly "Not. So. Good." when you're 17 and out partying with your peeps until the wee hours. I vaguely remember the day manager lady looking at me and saying something like "You don't belong here. You've got too much class." I believe I said "Thank you."

One weekend my name wasn't on the schedule and then again the following weekend. This went on for about 3 weeks until one afternoon after school I walked over to the shop where the boss man was dilligently sweeping the floor. I said Hi and made the usual small talk while he focued intensely on non-existent dust.

"So am I ever going to be on the schedule again?" Mutter, mutter.... he wouldn't even make eye contact. "Dude, it's ok if you want to fire me, just say so." He looked like he felt terrible about it, but his manager lady was right. I didn't belong there.

... or maybe it was because I kept stealing frozen chocolate chip cookie dough balls from the freezer. We'll never know.

Oh yeah, then there was the summer I worked as counter girl at a Brownie Shop called Square Deals. Also downtown. Also making nothing per hour.

I never got to work in the bakery, though I would have liked to (I'm good with flour). I was a temporary replacement for the regular counter lady who'd gone on maternity leave. I think I gained 10 pounds and lasted one month. Bleh.

Bank Teller. Sooooo very not fun. One month, maybe two. Another girlfriend's mother was the teller manager there. She was kind enough to give me a job when I needed one, but she took one look at me and said "You won't be here long. You're too smart and you look good in that suit. Like a professional. You'll go a lot farther than some silly bank teller job."

Yeah. Truthfully, the Teller job wasn't that bad until one day when my favorite teacher from grade school (Mr. Coffee Breath) pulled into the drive up and leered at me with a cigar hanging out of his mouth. Hello, Shattered Dream, how are you? and again with the Bleh. Shortly thereafter, I got a new job.

How about you all?


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