dolorosa_12 | Gainful (?) employment.

A few posts ago, I promised (or threatened) to write about all the jobs I've ever done. Well, I'm in a writing mood, so here they are:

1. July 2000: Shop assistant in a health food shop.
This was a winter job that I did to fill in for someone (who incidentally also went to my school). I worked here for two weeks, when I was 15. The job involved serving customers from the various large jars of grain, nuts, dried fruit, organic chocolate, licorice and apricot delight, as well as selling organic toiletries, clothes and things like aromatherapy oils, candles and incense. I knew the people in the shop - my family had been shopping there since I was seven - which made things easy for me. They treated me very well - feeding me organic food from the cafe that was attached to the shop, and making me milkshakes. My most vivid memory of this job was this old woman who made me cry over her order of pearl barley. This was on my very first day; she didn't make any allowances for my newness, and snapped at me as I tried to find the barley she wanted. Evidently, I gave her the wrong kind, because she yelled at me, and it made me cry.

2. December 2000-December 2002: Shop assistant in a Swiss chocolate shop and bakery.
I worked at this job over the holidays and every Saturday during the last two years of high school. In some ways it was a perfect job: over the two years, I worked with three different groups of girls (and one guy) who were about my age. We all got on very well, and the boss, who was also the baker and chocolatier, left at about 11am every Saturday, leaving us to serve in the shop, count the money and lock up. Of course, we spent this time gossiping, eating the food and reading out of date magazines which the next-door newsagency would dump in the lane behind the shop. We only ever had to work hard in the weeks leading up to Christmas and Easter (on Holy Thursday, we had to come in to work at 5am and work until 6pm). The main problem with this job was the boss, who was the biggest sleaze bag on the planet. He decorated the bakery and chocolate room with a collection of Playboy and Penthouse centrefolds (which actually constitutes sexual harassment, but no-one ever complained about it). I remember once he got a letter from a four-year-old girl who wanted to see the shop because she wanted to be a chocolate-maker when she grew up, and we had to take all the posters down in preparation for her visit - and then PUT THEM BACK UP once she'd left. Apart from the boss, the job was very good. We got on well with each other, and with (most) customers (I'm excluding the ones who made me cry). One guy extavagently dubbed us the 'Bread-Goddesses of Narrabundah'. I shall always remember this job fondly.

3. January 2003: Waitress in an RSL cafeteria.
I lasted only two weeks at this job. It was HELLISH. The boss and the head chef were both sleazebags. The food was disgusting, and the smell of it would get into my clothes and skin and hair, making me feel ill. I got into trouble on my first day because I didn't realise that the RSL held a minute's silence every day at 11am and got yelled at by a Vietnam vet. But what really made me quit this job was a nasty experience with the dishwasher. He was in his mid-40s, washed out and washed-up. He had an us (dishwashers and waitresses) against them (bosses) mentality, and kept telling me we were 'a good team'. After my third shift, this happened:
Dishwasher: What are you doing after work?
Me: (remember, I was 18, and innocent) Oh, nothing much. I'm just going home.
D: We're a good team, aren't we?
Me: Oh, yeah, of course.
D: Because we're a team, you should come out and get a drink with me after this shift. Since you're not doing anything.
Me: (in horror) Oh, actually, I have to...(thinking desperately) help my younger sister with her homework.
It never occurred to me that a 45-year-old would even consider asking an 18-year-old out or that that was what he wanted. If I'd been a bit more clued-up, I would've lied, but as a result of this conversation, I was so uncomfortable that I refused to go back for another shift, to the point of being too embarassed to even collect my pay. My mother was so horrified at this that she collected my pay herself.

4. February 2003-May 2003: Shop assistant in an Italian bakery.
This was one job I should never have taken. I liked this shop before I worked there, and now I cannot bring myself to return, such is my dislike for most of the people that work there. It was one of those typical trendy Sydney cafes that thinks the world of itself; the inevitable conclusion of the ridiculous Sydney attitude that treats chefs like celebrities. It was run by two very arrogant brothers, one of whom, at least, was a drug dealer. The chefs all had God-complexes, and the baristas and waiters sneered at anyone they didn't consider trendy enough for them. The owners made me feel unwelcome the entire time by acting as if I was untrustworthy. The aprons, tea-towels etc were kept in the same room as the computer where the accounts were done, and the owners refused to let me go into this room to get my uniform without someone else being there. I was the only one who got this treatment, and it made me (who was used to locking up a shop, being left alone, and knowing the alarm code) feel really unwelcome. The problem was compounded by the extreme fussiness of the owners. Every 10 minutes, they'd prowl through the shop, telling me off for fingerprints on the glass cabinets, flour on the floor or cups left on tables. I agree that shops should be clean, but I think when there are five customers queuing up, they take priority over uncleared tables.
But in the end, it was another (younger, but still not particularly appealing) dishwasher asking me out that convinced me I had to leave this job.

5. May 2003-July 2004: Check-out chick at Woolworths.
God knows how I lasted at this job so long. It was absolute hell. It was dead boring, hours spent scanning items, interspersed with tea breaks and occasional 'training' sessions where I was forced to watch Woolworths propaganda videos where all the actors sported fetching '80s haircuts. The worst thing about this job was the sneaky way they organised the roster. They would always roster on fewer people than necessary, and then, when it got busy, they'd call people not rostered on to come in and work extra shifts. I had no problem with working more hours a week, but I loathed being called on the spot to change my plans and come to work. It got to the point that during my hours of availability, we had to take the phone off the hook until I left for my rostered work. The one thing this job taught me is NEVER TO GIVE YOUR MOBILE NUMBER TO YOUR PLACE OF EMPLOYMENT. If they've got your mobile number, they've got you, mind, body and soul. This job is summed up by the reaction of my supervisor when I quit:
Me: I'd like to quit. I've been offered a job in a shop next door to my house. The travelling is hard for me, and it worries me to travel at night.
Supervisor: (snappishly) It's not THAT far from your house.
Like that was going to make me feel more warmly to the place!

6. July 2004-December 2006: Shop assistant in a European (Austrian) bakery and chocolate shop.
This was probably the best job I've ever had. The boss was the most laid-back, reasonable guy I've ever worked for, fussy about the quality of his cakes and chocolates, intolerant of any rudeness on the part of customers. The attitude here was not 'the customer is always right' but rather 'respect my staff, or get the hell out of my shop.' There were so many weird regulars. My favourites were
A) This sleazy Afghan guy who flirted shamelessly with every woman in the shop, and delighted in telling me that my (younger) sister who also worked in the shop was prettier than I and would definitely get married before me; and
B) An elderly woman whom my sister and I christened 'Mrs Cheese-pocket' on account of her favourite product. She had a habit of standing outside the shop and peering in to see what we DIDN'T have, then coming in and asking for it, for the pleasure of being able to yell at us for being out of her favourite product. Sometimes she'd switch complaints, and gripe about how expensive our products were, how cold it was, and how much being old sucked. One day the boss lost patience with her and yelled at her to 'f--- off', which scared her away for a few months, before she came crawling back.
This job is a perfect example of a harmonious workplace. The boss treated his workers with respect, understood that we couldn't do more than one thing at once, and understood that some days were harder than others (if it had been a particularly busy day, he'd slip us a $20 bonus), and in return, we respected him, the work, and tried hard to make money for him. This is a lesson all employers should learn.

7. 2003-2006: Babysitting.
I babysat my dentist's twin boys, who are now nearly five. I loved doing this job. The boys were sweet, well-brought-up, loved reading and always brightened my day. I'm sure that some of their cuter quotes have found their way on to this journal.

8. July 2003-present: book-reviewing.
I got into this job by a weird coincidence. The fifth Harry Potter book was about to come out, and I happened to see a documentary on Roald Dahl on TV. I decided that Rowling owed a huge debt to Dahl, decided to write an article about it, and with much prodding from Mum, sent it to a few newspapers. A few reviews later, I became The Canberra Times' young-adult book reviewer, a job that I have to this day, and which gives me both joy (at the quality of books still being written for young-adults: Scott Westerfeld, Garth Nix, I'm looking at you!) and despair (at the rubbish which gets written, and rewarded for its preachiness with awards). I've recently become the historical fiction reviewer too, which is fun.

9. January 2007-present: Features sub-editor.
I've written so much about this job that I'm not going to say much, except to say DON'T DO IT unless you are the world's greatest pedant, have no ego, and don't mind being the object of hatred of most journalists. Sometimes the articles are great, sometimes they can be made great with careful subbing, and sometimes they're atrocious examples of why some people should never be journalists. The fact that I was paid more per hour to work in the bakery in Sydney than I am in this job sums up my attitude to it.

10. February 2007-July 2007: Tutor at Kumon.
This was a very fun job. I took it because the subbing job was initially not full-time. It was very low in terms of stress. All I had to do was mark work, occasionally help the students, and enter work on to a database. I did Kumon myself when I was 10-15, and I knew the people who ran this Kumon centre. It paid well, it was relaxing, and it was a job that made me feel like I was actually making a difference in people's lives. I wish I could still work at this job, sometimes.

11. April 2007: Food and beverage seller at Cirque du Soleil's show Varekai.
Those that know me probably know that I've been a huge fan of Cirque since I was three years old, so I was a bit of a fangirl when I did this job. It was probably the most 'corporate' of my jobs, and was an interesting experience because of that. We were expected to sell a lot of stuff, offer upsizes for customers and so on. The supervisors were strict, but fair, and although the work was exhausting, it was a nice, brainless relief after my work at Kumon and at the newspaper, which I was also doing. The other people were nice. The highlight of this job was getting to see the show for free (although I'd already seen it earlier in Sydney). I would definitely work for Cirque again.

So. I've been working for seven years, and I've worked in a variety of jobs. I think I've had a fairly good run. I've never been fired, I've always left every job on my own terms, and I've (mostly) not tolerated bad working conditions. I'm glad that I've worked in horrendous jobs, though, because it taught me that I CAN endure it if necessary. The one lesson I've learned through all of this is that working in bad jobs with good people (co-workers AND bosses) is infinitely preferable to working in good jobs with bad people.