When I got my first job, it was because my parents made me. I remember being obstinate and emotional about the whole thing, neither of which were unusual for 16-year-old me. My parents drove me to the amusement park for my interview and I remember it being asked semi-serious questions considering the job took no skill. Despite creating drama over the issue at the time, getting that job was one of the greatest things that ever happened to me. (Hear that mom and dad? You were totally right!)
I read a lot about the importance of the jobs people have in high school and the role those jobs play in future career goals. That might be true, but my summer jobs didn’t lead to my current career choices as much as they did to my current social skills. I grew up in a town where you had to drive to go do anything. I went to a small-ish all girls high school. My social circle was small and my social life was pathetisad. When I started working I met boys and people from other schools. My world expanded exponentially. I also worked 60-hour-weeks with a bunch of people my own age. That concentrated grouping of teenagers spending so much time together led to adventures, stories, romances and lots of fun. The job was boring – we had to create our own entertainment.
One of my favorite memories was working at a ride where kids could wheel themselves around a small train track using a handcar. Working the ride pretty much just meant we kept kids in a line and went out to push kids who got stuck along the track. My friend T and I used to use this time to play the game “Rate Yourself” where we would pose challenges such as, “Rate yourself on looks on a scale of one to ten compared to everyone we can see now.” Sometimes we would do comparisons to people on their way to the water park. These were always flattering for us. I remember being asked to rate myself and quickly concluding “I’m a ten.” When else in your life do you get to have such confidence?
Another goofy memory I have is from working a ride featuring Jabber Jaws that we referred to as Squid. No one liked to work this ride except for me so I worked it a lot. It was stupid but kids really got a kick out of it. It was in the middle of the kids area of the park and you were removed from other rides. The only way to get other works’ attention was through hand signals. We’d hold up six fingers when we had to go to the bathroom, or just ask to take a six. (In loud places I sometimes still do this, but no one understands.) Once while working squid I cut up my middle finger on the ride pretty badly. There was quite a bit of blood and I needed to see a first aid station. I tried to get someone’s attention and keep blood off of my beautiful polyester uniform. The end result was me waving my middle finger all over the place. T was my supervisor at that point in time and he walked over with this horrified look on his face. I was completely oblivious to the hand gesture and just trying to keep my cool in front of a bunch of kids while my hand was dripping blood. When I saw the look on his face, I saw my hand and realized what I was doing and pretty much ran from the scene, partially for first aid but also from embarrassment.
Isn’t it funny the memories that stand out from your past? The things that stick with me aren’t huge events, just small details that make me smile.
