My First Jobs
Posted: Tuesday, November 22, 2011
by Dianne Lehmann
Artisan Jewelry from SyZyGy
My very first job was odious. My parents didn't believe in giving an allowance and what I did to earn money within the family was not referred to as chores, but as my job. I was four years old when my dad instituted a point system that correlated to money (pennies actually, and fractions of pennies, but at the time you could get two pieces of candy for one cent). It was his idea to start teaching me, at a very early age, the value of a job well done and how earning money related to working. I can't say it did me any harm and over the years my employers always appreciated my strict work ethic.
There were other tasks like taking out the trash, gathering the trash, helping with the dishes, helping with the laundry, dusting the living room, removing weeds and the like. Not only did I earn money, I also learned how to do a lot of different things at a very young age.
Dad kept scrupulous track of all that I did and on Saturday night, the week's wages were paid out. I looked forward to Saturday night. Half of what I had earned during the week went into my piggy bank and eventually into a savings account at the end of the month. The other half was mine to spend. Dad really knew what he was doing. And early on, I figured out that if I wanted to buy Christmas presents later in the year, I'd need a special savings account for that. I had a little cedar box that I started putting half of my spending money into around June.
My first job outside of the home was babysitting. I started doing that when I was about 11 years old. When I told my parents that I would like to babysit, they enrolled me in a course (given at our church) to teach kids how to be good babysitters. I was the youngest person in the class. We learned to always take a notebook with us so that we could jot down the telephone number of where our "employers" would be, how long they expected to be gone, the telephone number of their family's doctor and the license plate number of their car along with its description. On the inside cover of the notebook, we wrote all the pertinent emergency numbers. There was no 911 at that time. The course offered very little in the way of how to actually deal with children. I had to make that up as I went. Even so, the parents were quite happy with my work and I soon had more job offers than I could handle.
There was one little girl who got petite mal seizures. A boy whose feet had to be washed in a very specific way before putting him to bed and a baby who would stop breathing when you fed her from a bottle. I really wish her parents had warned me about that. Scared the … you know what … out of me the first time it happened. There was the brother and sister that hated each other so much that their parents would frequently go away for an entire weekend. Their father would pick me up around 5:00 p.m. on Friday night and return me home at about 8:00 p.m. on Sunday night. They paid me well for it and that was the only reason I kept going back. There was also the family with five kids and a dog that ate the cat's poop. They let the cat defecate wherever it wanted to inside of the house. I charged extra for that and kept hoping they would never call me again. I also charged extra if I was kept after midnight. Even so, my rate was only 50 cents an hour increasing to 75 cents an hour for the special circumstances. I probably really should have charged that family of five kids a dollar an hour.
I earned money by babysitting until I was about 19 years old. At that point, my studies took up too much of my time. Also, I had met Bernd (now my husband) when I was 18 and wanted to spend every spare minute with him.
My first actual job, as most people would look at it, was working for a major department store in the South Coast Plaza in the city of Costa Mesa, California. I was just shy of my 24th birthday when I was hired after applying just about everywhere. Bernd and I had been married for almost a year. I had completed my education up to that point with the attainment of a bachelor's degree in biology. I wanted to take a year off from school, work for a wage, save all the money I made, and then use that money to complete my master's degree.
The store was within walking distance of our apartment, as were all the other places that I applied. That was because we only had the one car. There were many times that I would leave work, walk to the nearest grocery store, do the shopping and then wait in the parking lot for Bernd to come pick me up on his way home from work. I got a lot of exercise in those days.
I was hired as a "floater" in the beginning. I still remember the day I got stuck in the fur department. Not only was I morally against the wearing of fur, I didn't know a darn thing about selling them. The human resources woman who delivered me to the department told me I probably wouldn't have to sell any furs and that I was just there to make sure none of them walked off. Which wasn't likely because they were all chained to the racks and I didn't have the key and couldn't have shown them to a customer even if I wanted to. But I had, nevertheless, learned by working now and then in Bernd's dad's fine jewelry store never to take more than one high-end item out of the case at a time. I was told that if the phone rang, I was to answer it and apologize for the inconvenience of being uniformed about furs and therefore unable to answer their questions. The phone rang more that day than I wanted it to. It was the longest eight hours I ever spent working there.
Then there was the day that I spent stripping off old price tags from glassware and applying new price tags. The new tags were for a higher price than the old. This was in preparation for a 30% markdown sale. I wasn't too happy about what that said about their business practices. But the day went quickly.
Eventually, I was taken on full time by the manager of the Notions, Fabrics and Toys department. That was where I got my first lesson in being taken advantage of by co-workers. Imagine my surprise to be called to human resources and told that I was on probation for not making my sales quota. I didn't even know I had a quota. The manager and the other employees had neglected to tell me and allowed me, with my shyness, to avoid dealing with customers and take on just about all the responsibility of keeping the three departments clean, neat and well stocked. Meanwhile they made all the sales. As soon as I found out, that ended right quick.
I'm still picking up poop … but it is mostly from horses. I don't get paid for it. It's more of a barter system; I pick up the poop and in return I get to ride for free. Although, they would let me ride even if I didn't pick up the poop. I just feel better about it when I think I'm contributing. I've absolutely no desire to take up babysitting as employment ever again. I learned a lot during those years of watching other people's kids … mostly that I never wanted any of my own.
I've said before that retail sales isn't for everyone. While it seems simple on the outside, the reality is that it takes a lot of intelligence to do it well. And you need a very unflappable sort of personality. One that doesn't send you to the women's restroom every time some unthinking customer takes out her life's frustrations on you. Age cured me of that, and experience. But some people never do learn how to deal with it.
I never did go back for my master's degree. Life just sort of got in the way. And working was considerably easier than being a student. Parents take note, going to school is tough. Don't think your kids don't work. Oh, darn, maybe I should have listed student as my second job! That's one I'm still working at (student of life) and will probably work at until the day I die.
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