Apr
16
$4.25 an hour
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As I stumbled out of my teens and into my early twenties, distracted by the great quantity and variety of questionable lifestyle choices in which to submerge myself, I plowed through a seemingly endless series of low-paying, crappy jobs. There was the movie theater position where I donned a clip-on bow tie and polyester vest and spent my evenings troweling oily popcorn into giant tubs; the printing company where I had to be there at 7 AM and as a result called in sick at least 75% of the time until I finally, to everyone’s relief, quit; the graveyard shift data-entry job where I nodded off over blinking DOS commands and got thousands of paper cuts; the brief, humiliating stint at a fast-food restaurant where my greatest fear (aside from someone I knew seeing me there) was that I would be asked to clean the grease trap.
The longest I stayed at a place where I was given both a uniform and raises in nickel increments was Kinko’s. I worked there for what seemed like a very long time, mastering every position available in the store, and had it not been for the day I sort of woke up and looked at my coworker, an exhausted silver-haired former fighter pilot grinding out what should have been his retirement years being yelled at by Sunday parishioners needing 500 copies of their church program immediately and what do you mean you’re out of yellow paper and realized I was seeing my potential future, I suppose there’s a good chance I’d still be there today, wearing a FedEx apron and explaining the concept of “single to double sided” to the slackjawed new recruit for the eleventy frillionth time.
It was a menial position with 10 minute off-the-clock breaks, barely-above minimum wage pay, and the indignity of being treated like some sort of copy machine fluffer by the majority of the customers I encountered, but I was friends with all of my coworkers. We joked and laughed all day long, even when we were mired in eight hours’ worth of brain-numbing tasks—or maybe especially because we were.
I still remember all these ridiculous things that happened there. The day I was oh-so-carefully aiming a fancy map through the laminating machine and watched in sheer helpless horror as a fly spiraled downward onto the paper just as the plastic squished it flat, leaving its bloody innards permanently sealed across Italy. The time a proud dad wanted us to create a giant color copy poster of his young pre-teen son at a Hooters, two waitresses leaning over him and smiling, and the uncomfortable, impossible-to-miss erection that became more and more visible as we enlarged the stupid thing. The smarmy frat boy who demanded that we produce a “Gucci-level” printing quality for him, my coworker’s mumbled comeback as she walked to the machine, my hysterical laughter at the transaction that actually resulted in me having to go home and change my pants.
Oh, good times, Kinko’s. I went on to more professional jobs, better paying jobs, and jobs with many more benefits, but sometimes I think that stupid little copy store was the best place I ever worked.
Do you have any fond memories of your entry-level jobs?
Apr
14
Just sayings
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Lord, was that ever a tedious weekend. We were visiting family in Oregon for Easter, and there was way too much driving and not nearly enough sunshine. The kids have had the same cold for weeks and can’t stop coughing, JB got sick halfway through the trip, and I think I lost my patience somewhere on the side of I-5.
This is where photos come in handy. Because sometimes pictures are a lot better than the boring, complain-y story that accompanies them.
In other news, Dylan has completely changed his eating habits, in that he used to eat and now he does not. Seriously, he used to devour anything and everything and now I swear to god he is living on graham crackers and milk. And you know how people say, oh, don’t worry about it, he’ll eat when he gets hungry? Well, that’s bullshit. Because here’s what happens when a child doesn’t eat enough: they get cranky and upset and eventually apoplectic with rage because they feel like hell and they DON’T KNOW WHY. In the meantime, you’re trying to get food in their system but they’re all pissed off and wailing and flinging their hands around and eventually you have to TRICK them by employing some bizarre form of peekaboo/here-comes-the-spoon-plane! game in the effort to get one single solitary fucking calorie in their scream-holes so they’ll calm down for the love of GOD.
Mealtimes have become a colossal pain in the ass and half the time I just spread random snack items around on accessible surfaces for him to hopefully grab while he’s bustling by on his way to find some pointy object to poke in his eye and if you’re wondering why there’s a piece of string cheese stuck to your ass it’s because every chair in my house now has food on it THAT’S WHY.
Also, as long as I’m ranting, here are some more bullshit sayings everyone needs to put a moratorium on:
Nap when the baby is napping. Yeah, because it’s so RESTFUL to try and fall asleep when you have no idea if you’ll be woken up in five minutes or two hours. See also: being woken up out of a drooling coma after five minutes, murderous feelings caused by.
Just wait until they’re teenagers. Okay, I get it, teenagers suck, but why does everyone say this? Maybe MY kids will be awesome teenagers. I mean, probably they won’t, but don’t go crapping in my future Wheaties just to share the misery, dammit.
I stay in shape by chasing my kids! Shut the fuck up, Hollywood. Unless you’re chasing your kids at a dead run around a track for 30 minutes a day five days a week I’m guessing that 8% body fat figure of yours has more to do with the no-carb diet and personal Pilates trainer.
This too shall pass. So will that spicy chicken burrito I ate last night, but it doesn’t mean it’s going to be pleasant.
What are your least favorite parenting platitudes?
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