My 1st Job....

At 17, I knew nothing of it. Work? Oh yes, that’s where my father was most of the time. My mother mentioned the word occasionally when I would ask of his wherabouts, and the more mature and responsible friends that I had, began mentioning it, (it took awhile to realize that work was also a verb ) off and on as the dawn of my 16th summer vacation came closer. I wasn’t made aware of any necessity to seek employment of my own until my social circle began to disappear on me, and the daily invitations to “hang out,” were met with questioning stares that simply said…..”Duh!?” One of many rude awakenings I had the pleasure of dealing with during the formative years of my life. Blindsided once again and left with making decisions that I wished I’d been given some guidance for making. Why do people have to work? Should I work too? Who would give me a job? It must be true that the cobbler’s child has no shoes, because I was a business owner’s child and there I was, without a lick of business sense to be found.
My friends were kind enough to explain the purpose of working to me. Extra money they said. More independence… (HUH?) And of course there was the “more responsibility” part; it was all starting to sound like too much to think about for me. The only affect of work I had ever been exposed to was a father I never saw. I argued the pros and cons of work as I saw them and my friends just hung their heads in shame for me. “Awww…” they would mumble under their breath, “poor thing, she has no idea does she?” “NO!” I wanted to shout. “You’re right! I don’t have any idea!” I would ask my mother; surely she would know something about this.
My mother was kind enough to explain why I shouldn’t have to work; apparently this work thing wasn’t universal. “It’s not for everyone.” My mother assured me apologetically. “We want you to concentrate on school, and you don’t really have to work. Don’t worry about it” she said “It’s not all it’s cracked up to be anyway, and if you can get away without having to work….well then you should!” My next stop would be my father; undoubtedly he could solve this dilemma.
My father was kind enough to explain the job search to me. Off to the shop we went, and I listened attentively as he tried to instill a work ethic in me, in less than 10 minutes. He walked me through the different departments, explaining as we went, and the various tasks I could perform that would constitute as a job. I would file, and clean, I would assist customers and pump gas when things got busy. He left me to complete the simple tasks he had suggested, and by the end of the day there were 3 gas caps lined up across the top of the pump that I had forgotten to replace after fueling. I had cleaned a car and the owner refused to pay when he came to pick it up because it was still so dirty. I attempted to wash the years of greasy fingerprints from the cash register, not realizing that the cleaner was getting inside the machine, ruining everything….. It was my first day and it was my last.
There is a lot to be said for commitment. I heard myself counseling my own teenage daughter on the value of good work ethics the other day. “Make sure it’s a job you can commit to doing for at least a few years.” I advised “It’s important to develop a dedicated work reputation, it’s a small city and by the 4th or 5th job, the references will start to know each other.” I noticed the grin she was trying to hide as she asked….”So mum, what was your first job?”