My Favorite Job

I will preface what I really came here to write with a something-other-than-brief description of my work experience. Read at your own risk.

I got my first real job (the kind involving paper work and taxes) when I was 16. I was a cashier at Wegmans (this is different than being a cashier at any other grocery store... you just have to go there to know what I mean). It was a fun job. I worked at it for the summer after 10th Grade and into my Junior year of high school. The only problem was that it was a 15-20 minute drive there and back and I didn't have a license. My parents would drive me there and come back later to pick me up. My parents encouraged me to look for a new job within walking distance.

I did and started that October working for Farrell-Messler Insurance Agency as their gopher girl. I filed papers, processed mail (in a nifty mail machine thingy), bought their groceries, ordered office supplies, made their bank deposits, made their coffee, did their dishes, and learned to write simple insurance policies. And I walked to the agency each day after school. At the end of the school year, Mr. Farrell, the big man in the office, pulled me aside and let me know that his daughter was coming home from college for the summer. She needed a job. And he only needed one gopher. So I lost my job. I didn't consider it a huge loss, however, because I was tired of the preppy clothes I was required to wear in the office, I hated dealing with coffee, and I actually found Mr. Farrell to be rather intimidating.

My mom and my brother, together, landed me my next job. (I'm sure my brother doesn't remember this, but it's true). The two of them were on a job hunt for my brother, who was only 15, so they were more specifically on an under-the-table-job hunt. The best brand of that kind of a job around here is farm labor (just ask the illegals) and that's where they went looking. Out towards Covert there's a farm called Poppycock Farm. They have a few big barns, so my mom chose a house next to one of them and knocked at their door (I'm sure he went too, but I'm also sure it was more my mom's idea, so she probably did the knocking and the talking). The woman who answered indicated that she didn't own the farm or have anything to do with it other than living next door to it and smelling its smells, but she did express interest in hiring a kid to do her gardening that summer. My mom, knowing me all to well, told Mrs. Bialke that I would jump at the chance to be paid to work in flower gardens all summer. So that's what I did. I worked mornings, before it got too hot, and I loved it. I also loved the association with the Bialkes. They had three daughters, who were ten year old, identical triplets. When summer gardening was over, I continued to babysit the triplets sometimes.

Babysitting was my only source of income for the majority of my Senior year. There was a lot of pressure for me to get a real job and I'm still not sure why I was so reticent, but I was. I just kept putting it off. Until March of my Senior year. I took cello lessons out in Brooktondale, high up in the hills. That drive was my favorite and the memory of being up on the hill in Brooktondale is still one of the most beautiful that I have. It seems like I would have driven slower to savor the drive that I loved so much, but I had a terrible habit of speeding. Like crazy. I liked to see how fast I could go and try to break my personal records. I never got caught until that March on a drive home from a lesson (through sleet). The officer didn't go easy on me and I was stuck with a fine of more money than I had. Instead of telling my parents, I decided to get a job and earn a pay check before the fine was due. I think my entire first pay check from Purity went to the Town of Dryden. What a stinker. I finally had motivation to get a job though.

My official title was Ice Cream Scooper (at least that's what I put on my resume) and it was such an awesome job. I ate so much ice cream that summer. People told me that I would get sick of it, but I didn't. I even gained weight because of it, but no complaints. I had so much fun and met so many neat people and experienced having frozen boogers on a regular basis. And I made a lot of money. Customers would tip us generously and I would often end up making 11, 12, and 13 bucks an hour thanks to tips. (Without tips I only made 6) Purity makes their own ice cream in the back of the building and they made a lot of flavors. Maybe 30 or 40. I memorized the name and ingredients of every flavor and sundae and shake. I even had dreams about them for months after I left. One more added bonus from my job at Purity was the weird bump of muscle that developed on my right forearm from scooping.

I returned to Purity the following May after finishing my first year at BYU. My boss, who owned Purity, also owned some branches of Purity called Eat Dessert First. I had worked at the one she owned near the Commons about once a week the previous summer, but this time she wanted me to be largely responsible for the one up in Cornell's College Town. Eat Dessert First served ice cream as a side thing. It mostly sold many different kinds of cakes and pies and cookies and brownies. Did I mention coffee? It's primary source of revenue came from the sale of coffee related items. I had to figure out how to make cappuccinos, lattes, mocha lattes, espressos, iced coffees, flavored coffees, regular coffee, dark coffee, and every other kind of coffee and I had to figure out how to make them perfectly. The people (Cornell students) who came in were (mostly) stuck up and would demand perfection. If I didn't get it right, they would tell me. I got burned more than a few times thanks to coffee. Let's just say it should have been the bane of my existence that summer, except that it wasn't my only job or even my full time one that summer. For a few weeks, I worked three jobs at once. I worked full time in a factory, where I needed to be by 6:50 every morning. To get there on time, I would leave around 6:15, when I finished at the factory at 3:20pm, I would rush off to either of my part time jobs where I would work until 10 or 11pm (or when I worked at Purity, sometimes I wouldn't finish until around 1:00am). I would shower at night and try to be asleep by 1:30 just to start over again the next morning.

The factory was the craziest job I've ever had.It was more of a man's job, but I worked it with plenty of girls, too. It's still not too funny to me some of the things we did, so let's just say that it required the wearing of steel toed boots,

goggles, ear plugs, and sometimes full body suits.

My other part time job was at the Ithaca Yacht Club. I was too young to wait tables, so I bussed them. The only thing redeeming about that job was that I worked with my brother.

I came home from BYU that summer to rest from school and see my family, but I worked so much that I saw very very little of my family and by comparison, school seemed like a huge break when I returned. It was a little lesson about what summers are for adults... nothing special, just hotter. I was becoming an adult and very quickly losing enthusiam for "summer vacation".

My next job after the Summer From Hell was back at BYU and once again titled Ice Cream Scooper. The only differences between working at the Creamery On 9th and Purity was management, grill operation, and milkshakes in Utah would be called "soft ice cream" in New York. The management difference turned out to make all the difference and I resigned after only 2-ish months.

That brings me (wow this turned out way longer than I intended) to my last job as a wage earning employee. I worked for BYU Vending for my last 3 years at BYU. They were that good. Or they paid me that well. Or a little of both, I don't know. They title says it all. I was a route driver, so I drove around and filled vending machines. For some of the time I was in charge of FHP, meaning I carried a big black duffle bag full of tampons around campus to fill said machines and collected only quarters. That is a very long story, with lots of other stories intermingled, of its own, so I'll leave it at that.

Now for the reason I even started this post.

My Favorite Job.

Lucky for me, it is my current job, and I expect to hold this position for the rest of my life. Because of this job, I am disgusted by almost nothing, sometimes I feel that maybe I have super powers, and I am losing my hair color fast. After some days, I really think that I've seen it all, but I know that's not true. It's probably the most difficult job (even considering my time spent in the factory) I've ever tried, but it's definitely the most rewarding. I'm even okay with not getting paid to do it, because, truly, there is nothing I would rather be doing. I love being a mom.

I love spending all day, every day with these two little crazies. They are so much fun and they are so cute. They make me wonder about things that I've never thought of before and try things that I really never even wanted to try. Sometimes I just can't believe how blessed I have been to be their mom.