One Saturday last summer Jason wanted to bring the kids to his work to show everyone where he works and what he does and to get a few extra helping hands to get some corn sorted for a tight deadline he was trying to meet. I'm sure he had rosy visions of how it would go, and the kids were mostly quite helpful and had a great time sporting work gloves and pushing each other around on office chairs and musing about how much money one should be paid when working a job like this, which led to the telling of The Worst Jobs We Never Had.
Jason's story went something like this-
When I was in high school a buddy of mine told me about a job that he had packing up houses after school every day from 3 to 8 PM for $10 an hour. That's $50 a day, and that was pretty good money back then (back in the 1900s, as we like to say around here).
I went with my buddy after school one day and met his boss. He said it was a good job and that I could try out the job for one day, and if I liked it and if I was a hard worker I could have the job.
So everyone piled into the back of a big van that didn't have any seats in the back of it. There were about 10 guys sitting back there, and the boss said that the time went by a lot quicker if you were high (which means using marijuana, which is a kind of drug that makes your brain not work quite right and is really bad for you).
My buddy said that he didn't smoke with the other guys, but that he just sat there and did his work and made the money and it was all good. But I didn't think so! I didn't care how much money I might make, I didn't want to spend any time in a van full of smoke and drugs. So I turned down the job and found a better one that didn't put me in a place that I didn't want to be!
*****
*****
And this is mine- hands down one of the best stories I've got-
After I finished my associates degree at BYU-Idaho, I didn't know what I wanted to do next. I wasn't sure what bachelors degree I wanted and it didn't really make sense to keep going to school and paying tuition without a plan, so I decided to take a break from school for a bit (which was mostly okay because I finished my two year degree in 18 months). I moved from Rexburg down to Provo, Utah because my sister lived there and I liked the idea of being closer to her, but I didn't have a job lined up. Still, I found a really cute apartment and had enough money saved up to start living there and looking for a job.
And I looked, and looked, and looked. For four months! I really liked the idea of being a secretary or administrative assistant of some kind, and I applied with Utah County to be considered for any secretary position they had in the whole county.
One day I got a phone call and set up an interview with the animal shelter. It was run by the county and they in need of a new front desk person. I didn't know what to expect- it certainly wasn't the environment I had been hoping for, but I was starting to get to the end of my funds and my optimism- I needed a job!
So the next day I dressed up in my sharp black woolen suit and headed to the shelter with my resume in hand. Only I had the wrong address, so I had to call and ask for directions, which made me late and made me even more nervous.
I walked into the front door of the shelter and was hit- nearly knocked over- by the pungent animal smell. And the noise. There was barking and meowing and chirping and a general feeling of sadness and panic in the air. There was a corkboard with 'Lost Dog!' signs plastered all over it. This was clearly not a happy place.
I was called back for my interview and was directed to sit on a couch that was covered with animal hair. I shook hands with the interviewer and immediately started trying to discreetly pick hair off my suit. It was a futile effort.
The questions I answered went something like this-
"We need you to type up a letter in response to an elementary school that is asking why the shelter euthanized so many animals every year. With unlimited numbers of animals reproducing and limited space to keep the homeless ones, clearly euthanizing the bulk of them is the best option. Could you just type that out real quick?"
"Sometimes the secretary needs to help out with the animals- hold down the dogs when they get their euthanizing shots or take them back to the kennels, and they can get real upset, maybe even bite at you or pee on you. Are you okay with that?"
"What would you do if we euthanize a dog and it's owners come in the next day to claim it. How would you deal with that?"
"And this here is Bud (in walks a 6 foot 6 man covered in tattoos and piercings and, by my horrified memory, handcuffs on each wrist). He's part of the work-release program we have going on with the prison. Are you comfortable working with convicted felons?"
(At this point I told the girls that "Bud" winked at me and said, "Hi there little lady", which made them both squeal with disgust and delight.)
"And now that you've got an idea of what the job includes, would you like a tour of the facilities?"
Of course, I did not want a tour, I just wanted to run far, far, away but I politely said yes and we proceeded down the hall toward the barking and the meowing and the panic-stricken animals.
"Here's where we take care of the cats- if you really shove them in you can fit 25 or even 30 cats in one of these gas chambers... sometimes you'll have to help shove the door closed."
"And over here is where we do the dogs. Can't fit as many of them in but they don't put up as much of a fuss."
And then I made the mistake of asking where the animals bodies went after they were euthanized, so I was taken out back, where there were three sheds filled with rubbermaid garbage bins. Sticking out of the first one was an image I'll never forget- the stiff corpse of a beautiful golden retriever.
"They just stay out here until they come collect the bodies. All of them are incinerated on Thursdays. Do you have any other questions?"
The only question I had was HOW I ended up there in the first place. I quickly said no, thanked them for their time, and hurried back to my car to continue picking dog hair off of my skirt.
And the next day, they offered me the job.
Of course, they made it clear that I was second choice- their first pick for the job didn't pass the background check. So the job was mine if I wanted it.
What was I going to do?
I needed money. I didn't have a plan. I didn't have many other options.
But I knew that there was no way on God's green earth that I would be able to get up and go to work every morning if that was my job.
So I turned it down.
And then I went and got a job as a manager at American Eagle, where I worked for a quick six months before I decided that I was ready to finish college. It might have seemed like an unnecessary detour in my education, but I needed that time to realize that I did NOT want to be a secretary for the animal shelter and I did NOT want to be a retail manager- I wanted to finish my education!
And even if I don't use my sociology degree every day in my current life, I'm still so grateful that I have it, and so grateful that I had the sense of brain and the courage to not go down a road that I knew wasn't going to get me where I really wanted to be in life.
And after I did graduate from college, I got a job as an administrative assistant not too far from the animal shelter. For three years I did the rigamortis salute in remembrance of one of the best choices I ever made.
Rest in peace, puppy.
One day I got a phone call and set up an interview with the animal shelter. It was run by the county and they in need of a new front desk person. I didn't know what to expect- it certainly wasn't the environment I had been hoping for, but I was starting to get to the end of my funds and my optimism- I needed a job!
So the next day I dressed up in my sharp black woolen suit and headed to the shelter with my resume in hand. Only I had the wrong address, so I had to call and ask for directions, which made me late and made me even more nervous.
I walked into the front door of the shelter and was hit- nearly knocked over- by the pungent animal smell. And the noise. There was barking and meowing and chirping and a general feeling of sadness and panic in the air. There was a corkboard with 'Lost Dog!' signs plastered all over it. This was clearly not a happy place.
I was called back for my interview and was directed to sit on a couch that was covered with animal hair. I shook hands with the interviewer and immediately started trying to discreetly pick hair off my suit. It was a futile effort.
The questions I answered went something like this-
"We need you to type up a letter in response to an elementary school that is asking why the shelter euthanized so many animals every year. With unlimited numbers of animals reproducing and limited space to keep the homeless ones, clearly euthanizing the bulk of them is the best option. Could you just type that out real quick?"
"Sometimes the secretary needs to help out with the animals- hold down the dogs when they get their euthanizing shots or take them back to the kennels, and they can get real upset, maybe even bite at you or pee on you. Are you okay with that?"
"What would you do if we euthanize a dog and it's owners come in the next day to claim it. How would you deal with that?"
"And this here is Bud (in walks a 6 foot 6 man covered in tattoos and piercings and, by my horrified memory, handcuffs on each wrist). He's part of the work-release program we have going on with the prison. Are you comfortable working with convicted felons?"
(At this point I told the girls that "Bud" winked at me and said, "Hi there little lady", which made them both squeal with disgust and delight.)
"And now that you've got an idea of what the job includes, would you like a tour of the facilities?"
Of course, I did not want a tour, I just wanted to run far, far, away but I politely said yes and we proceeded down the hall toward the barking and the meowing and the panic-stricken animals.
"Here's where we take care of the cats- if you really shove them in you can fit 25 or even 30 cats in one of these gas chambers... sometimes you'll have to help shove the door closed."
"And over here is where we do the dogs. Can't fit as many of them in but they don't put up as much of a fuss."
And then I made the mistake of asking where the animals bodies went after they were euthanized, so I was taken out back, where there were three sheds filled with rubbermaid garbage bins. Sticking out of the first one was an image I'll never forget- the stiff corpse of a beautiful golden retriever.
"They just stay out here until they come collect the bodies. All of them are incinerated on Thursdays. Do you have any other questions?"
The only question I had was HOW I ended up there in the first place. I quickly said no, thanked them for their time, and hurried back to my car to continue picking dog hair off of my skirt.
And the next day, they offered me the job.
Of course, they made it clear that I was second choice- their first pick for the job didn't pass the background check. So the job was mine if I wanted it.
What was I going to do?
I needed money. I didn't have a plan. I didn't have many other options.
But I knew that there was no way on God's green earth that I would be able to get up and go to work every morning if that was my job.
So I turned it down.
And then I went and got a job as a manager at American Eagle, where I worked for a quick six months before I decided that I was ready to finish college. It might have seemed like an unnecessary detour in my education, but I needed that time to realize that I did NOT want to be a secretary for the animal shelter and I did NOT want to be a retail manager- I wanted to finish my education!
And even if I don't use my sociology degree every day in my current life, I'm still so grateful that I have it, and so grateful that I had the sense of brain and the courage to not go down a road that I knew wasn't going to get me where I really wanted to be in life.
And after I did graduate from college, I got a job as an administrative assistant not too far from the animal shelter. For three years I did the rigamortis salute in remembrance of one of the best choices I ever made.
Rest in peace, puppy.
Boy did the kids enjoy hearing those stories. And the ice cream was pretty delicious payment for the hard work, too.
