Summer Job? Or Reward from the Universe?

by Hank Phillippi Ryan

 

There was no way around it.  Every summer from the time I turned 16, I had to get a summer job.  All the kids in my family did, as soon as we passed into no-longer-child-labor territory. In fact, there may not have been child labor laws back then (after all there wasn't even color TV, for heaven's sake) but anyway. My step-father insisted. No summer job? Forget about it. That also meant no pool privileges, no car privileges, probably no food privileges.

 

So my first summer, after complaining about it for awhile, and failing at trying to prove to Mom and Boo (as we called him) that no one would hire a teenager with no experience, I went to the Avon Shopping center, I think it was, in suburban Indanapolis. I inquired at the A and P--do you need anyone? No. At Shaeffer's Drugs. No. At Adore Beauty Salon. Pronounced A-dor-ay, of course. No.

 

Next on the strip mall was the dry cleaners, can't remember the name. Oh, yes, Tuchman's.

And they needed a clerk. Great!

Cush job,I thought. Take people's clothes, give them back. Though it did smell a little funny in there. So done deal, I was hired, and then they handed me an employee information form to fill out.

I picked up the pen, and began to write.

 

"Waitaminit," the clerk said. "You're left-handed?"

 

"Yes," I said.

 

He took the paper back. "We can't train a left-handed person," he said, shaking his head. "The machines--"

 

Machines? I remember thinking? Why will I need a machine?  

 

"--the cleaning machines are designed for right-handed people only. No way, sorry, but we need someone right-handed."

 

And with that, adios job.

 

I was crushed, defeated, and went to the Dairy Queen to drown my sorrows in a double chocolate softserv in a cup with pineapple topping and coconut flakes. The Dairy Queen. Where, as it turned out, they needed a person to be a counter girl.

 

And I got the job.  I adored it. I learned to make an ice cream cone with a curl on top, and dip it in chocolate keepng the curl in place. (Bet I could still do it.) I learned customer service, how to be nice even if you didn't feel like it, how much fun it was to make someone happy, how fulfilling it was to give people something delicious, how fantastic it was to get a paycheck, what a good feeling it was to go home tired after a real day's work.

 

And, because you can make ice cream cones left-handed, but not do dry cleaning, I did NOT spend my summer breathing tetrachlorethylene, "perc," the solvent they now know causes cancer and all kinds of other horrible things.

 

Somehow, to me, that's all just--chillingly revealing about the universe. Or maybe it's just a nice story.

 

Summer jobs anyone?

 

 

Comments

[Hank Phillippi Ryan]

Yes. I see the font changed in the middle of the post. Why? AH, yes, you might well ask.

I have no idea. I tried a billion times to fix it.

I also tried to post lovely photos, of dry cleaners, and Dairy Queen ice cream cones. But typepad would not let me do it.

So, imagine standard font. Imagine photos.

I do appreciate it.
xoxo

[Peg H]

My first summer job was as a trail guide and stall mucker at a Colorado stable when I was fourteen. They didn't worry about child labor laws because we weren't exactly 'paid' help. My parents did get a major discount on my horse's board and the hay and grain were free. If someone tipped me, I got to keep that. Yes, I was young and dumb but I sure did love it and my parents didn't have to worry about me because they always knew where I was.

[Chris Adams]

Did you become addicted to , or were you put off for life from - ice cream?

[Sheila Connolly]

My forward-thinking New Jersey town had a job bank set up for high-school kids for short-term stuff like babysitting or clean-up after dinner parties. But after senior year I was a camp counselor for a down-on-its-luck overnight camp that was due to close that year. It was called Camp Washington; the small lake there was called (wait for it) Lake George. Really.

[Hank Phillippi Ryan]

Sheila, that's too funny.

Chris, we were allowed 50 cents worth of ice cream a day. We all LOVED it, waited for it, and I never sneaked a bit (or a bite) otherwise. Even thinking about it now, yum. I would have chocolate soft serv with pineapple sauce, and try to get as much as possible into the tiny cup we were given.

So no, I still love it.

But the next summer, I worked at a dime store. And for a time, at the candy counter. Don't even mention toasted coconut sticks. Ah...I overdosed.

And Peg, yes, wouldn't we have done anything to be around horses?

[Peg H]

You bet! And I did. Imagine a fourteen year old taking adults out on trails. Surprisingly they actually listened to me.

[krisneri]

Hank, my first job was working in a bakery. I had to wear a uniform and pretty geeky shoes, but I got to be a whiz at tying a string around those pink boxes and breaking it with a snap of my hand. And I still love rich cheesecake and just about everything else my bakery baked. OD'ing on that stuff didn't cure me, either.

[Hank Phillippi Ryan]

Oh, the uniform! At Dairy Queen, we were required to wear all white. Everyone else wore nylon-polyester 60's era nurse outfits.

No way Beatlemaniac me was going to be seen in that get-up! So I wore a white oxford cloth button-down-collar shirt and a white mini-mini-skirt.

Mr. Dairy Queen manager was incensed. And even more so because the rules just said "white."

And yes, though, those little things you learn. Breaking the string. Love it.

[Long Island Summer Camp Nurse Needed]

That's a great story. DQ is so much better than a dry cleaner. Some summer jobs aren't even in the retail area, like camp counselors and camp nurses. These are jobs with lots of rewards and are always hiring when the summer comes around.

[Kristina L.]

I learned a lot about how to be "nice even if you didn't feel like it" at McDonald's. Good job for a college student, which I was. I did develop a dislike for Coca-Cola and hamburgers after a while, but I still love milkshakes and fries!