The boy has been looking for a summer job. He’s applied to a dozen jobs and had a few interviews. In the meantime, he’s done several odd jobs including babysitting, lawn mowing and, perhaps the coolest of all, assisting Sean Tubbs with recordings for the Charlottesville Podcasting Network. These are all great jobs to have, but too few and far between to assist him with the pain of his oncoming life as a poor college student.
He interviewed for a sales job, which turned out to be that time-honored appointment-driven scheme to sell Cutco Knives. What funny about this is that in 1989, my husband had the same interview, was presented the same earning structure, had the same “convincing” conversation with me about taking the job. He sold knives to several friends and we still have his sample set; the best knives we own. The boy made a list of all the people he could imagine coercing to buy knives from him. He came up with 10 names. Then he decided he’d better let that opportunity go.
He’s a good kid; smart, reliable, has his own wheels and is willing to work hard. For money. That’s the important part. Let me know if you have a dog sitting, lawn mowing, filing, binder assembly, podcast recording, ditch shoveling, telemarketing, table-waiting, coffee-fetching or other menial job for him. You’ll be saving his hide because his dad’s going to wring his neck if he doesn’t get a job soon.
I hope he does get a non-terrible job, although I think everyone needs a truly awful job at some point, hopefully early in their career. Everyone needs one demoralizing, insulting, disgusting, offensive job to reminisce about when their work-life improves. Think of the opportunities to play that negative one-upmanship game comparing past work lives with current coworkers.
My friend Jim had a bad job when he was in high school. He worked in a pickle plant, driving a forklift. It was hot and smelled to high heaven of pickle brine. Just talking about it, his nose wrinkles with the memory of a smell he was not rid of from May till August.
One of my husband’s first jobs was in the Chrysler plant, attaching hood ornaments to minivans, working on the line during the night shift. The plant was hot; the work, mind-numbingly boring. Charmingly, he presented me with a hood ornament in lieu of an engagement ring when he popped the question. Luckily, a ring came later.
I worked as a waitress for two weeks; till a construction worker slapped my butt and my fellow waitress creeped me out by reading the Satanic bible and telling tales of her extensive drug use. I also worked at a mall McDonald’s and vividly remember scraping off the remains of a cheeseburger that had been plastered to the wall.
Everyone needs THAT job, the one that makes you never go back, to work hard, study harder and believe that there’s a better place for you one day; that you deserve it and will do anything to get it.
What was your worst job?