Describe your first job.
Well I have two first jobs as it were. One that I shouldn’t count because it wasn’t my actual first job and another that was my first job, but it wasn’t ‘proper’ and ended rather badly.
The first actual job was at Quasar. You know that little laser game where you run around in the dark and shoot people with a cool little gun? When you hit them it makes the pack on their back vibrate to know they’ve been hit. Sometimes its called Laser Quest. Well I worked in one of them. My friend got me the job because there where short staffed and she knew I needed the cash. So I worked there probably for about six months. Gave up my weekends, worked in the week after school, it was fantastic. Then, out of nowhere, they took me aside one day and told me they had to let me go.
I was livid. Not only because they were firing me but because they’re reason for doing it was half-assed and senseless. They told me the washing up in the kitchen hadn’t been done to their satisfaction, nor had the floors in the diner been swept. When they came out with that, even then, with my sixteen year old attitude, I was like ‘Excuse me? Why the hell are you blaming me for this when I’ve been in the arena all day? That’s not even my role this week. And why the hell should you fire me for it?!’ Well it didn’t do me any good; they stuck by their decision, gave me the money and rolled me out of there. I haven’t been back into the building since. -_-
I don’t tend to count that as my real first job because it was just so short and I couldn’t get a reference out of them. I have no idea how organised they were, but in comparison to places I’ve worked since then – even Asda *shudder* – it seemed far more attuned to the fact that it is a job and there are things you do and don’t do. I hadn’t even finished my notice period yet (I think); it was pretty much just a case of ‘Don’t come back in on Saturday; we don’t need you.’ Pfft. And I was pretty damn good with those guns too.
The second ‘first job,’ the one I actually count as my first job for real was in Greggs. You know, the baker’s? Not far from the Quasar actually, there was a tiny little shop in town taking on staff and I became one of their Saturday crew, cooking up sausage rolls, laying out buns and cakes and handling till. And this is before that chain even had electronic tills! Everything had to be done in your head; including calculating change. In hindsight, it was actually a really good exercise in learning how to do that and not getting rattled by customer’s not waiting to wait until you’re done. It was nice as well, because the two other girls who worked in there were lovely (can’t remember they’re names now) and I got paid properly into my bank account. I had real money for the first time ever and could do exactly as I pleased.
It wasn’t incredible. I mean it really was just ‘Saturday kitchen staff’ but my first taste of working life. I remember that I had to look for jobs when I finished at drama school, because I was too old to go to the classes at that point. So I definitely must have been sixteen. It was also about the time that my interest in music began to explode and my gathering of single CDs began in earnest. I’ve only kept a few of them now, but I’ll tell you… I must have bought two or three every week with the money I made working in that shop. Oh and some funky jewellery that I still own actually, including a silver cross I call my ‘vampire cross.’ Like Buffy! ^_^
The only problem is, years on I don’t go into Greggs any more. Cheap and cheerful food though it may be, I saw enough of what happened in the back of my store that has made me absolutely certain that I never, ever again want to eat one of their sausage rolls or pasties. Not to say that every store is like that, obviously, of course they’re not, but when you work that long amongst a particular type of food is there any wonder that you don’t want to eat it any more? Like those people in Mc Donald’s I bet they don’t eat there every Friday night when they’re half drunk. They’ll go to the kebab shop down the road, for sure!
My 80 Post Challenge is brought to you with help from Tom Slatin’s 80 Journal Writing Prompts.